Chapter 20
“Where did you find this?” Bel demanded as she seized the evidence bag and shoved it at Lina. “This butterfly. Where was it?”
“In Hazel Wyatt’s fist. She must have died with it in her hand,” the medical examiner said.
“I didn’t see this,” Olivia said. “It wasn’t part of the autopsy.”
“Because it fell onto the floor when we movedher,” Lina said. “I documented it in my report, and we photographed it before I placed it in the evidence bag. Iwas going tomention it after we reviewed her identity, but I didn’t think a gum wrapper was pressing evidence.”
“But you’re certain this butterfly was in Hazel Wyatt’s fist?” Bel asked.
“Yes. I saw it fall out.” Lina glanced between the detectives as if they were in on some prank.
“And you didn’t alter the wrapper’s shape?” Bel asked.
“No. It was folded like that when it fell on the floor… What’s going on? Is this significant?”
“No… yes, I don’t know,” Bel said. “Can I take this?”
“Isn’t that your job?” Lina pinched her eyebrows together.
“Right…” Bel glanced at her partner, but Oliviawas staringtransfixed at the evidence bag.
“Are you two okay?” Lina asked. “What does that butterfly mean?”
“Not sure yet,” Bel said. “It could be nothing… do you need anything else from us?”
“Not at the moment,” Lina said. “I’ll call you if I have anything new… If I find more origami, do you want me to treat it as a priority?”
“Yes,” the detectives voiced in unison.
“And are you sure you’re okay?”
“We’re fine.” Bel rubbed the M.E.’s arm. “Thank you. We’ll talk soon.”
“Bye,” Olivia said as she followed Bel to the exit.
“Goodbye,” Lina called after them, but neither detective acknowledged her as they raced for privacy.
“What are the chances that this is a coincidence?” Bel asked as thewomenpiled into her car. “This isn’t a popular brand, and I’ve never seen anyone fold gum wrappers into origami, yet in the past few weeks, I’ve seen this exact butterfly in three vastly different locations, two of which were crime scenes.It’s impossible these three instances are related, but when have you ever seen this flavor and brand folded into this specific shape?”
“Twice,” Olivia answered. “The photo you took on your vacation and the one in your hands.”
Bel pulled out her phone and selected the photo she’d snapped of Anne’s discarded gum wrapper. She held the image next to the evidence bag, but there was no mistaking it. The origami butterflies were identical.
“They aren’t connected, right?” Bel asked. “They can’t be. How could they? A respectable plastic surgeon’s wife, an illegal surgery operation, and a frozen girl in Bajka have nothing to do with one another. This has to be a coincidence.”
“Remember my theory?” Olivia asked. “Where I wondered if Anne Chambers and Anne Blaubart were so different because they weren’t the same woman?”
“Yes, but that was our imaginations playing devil’s advocate.”
“It doesn’t change that the easiest way to become someone else is to steal an identity,” Olivia continued. “Anne Chambers was a bit of an accident-prone daredevil. It’s not unreasonable that she might have taken it one step too far, and someone who looked similar to her took advantage of her death. Someone like a girl who’d escaped the clutches of The Matchstick Girl Killer.”
“But how did Hazel Wyatt get the butterfly?” Bel asked.
“Same way Lina found it. It fell. Maybe whoever Anne was dropped it in her escape, and Hazel picked it up whenshe waslocked inside the freezer. It’s such a small cute thing. A young girl who knew she was dying might want to hold on to it.”
Bel lifted the evidence bag and stared at the origami with the overwhelming urge to cry. Was that what happened? Had poor, innocent Hazel found the abandoned butterfly and clung to it for comfort?
“If you’re right, why wouldn’t she have gone to the police?” she asked. “You escape a serial killer and change your face instead of going to the police? That seems extreme.”
“Except she was drugged,” Olivia said. “The police could’ve thought she was a junkie spouting nonsense. Most of the women Frost took were runaways or working girls. I hate to say it, but plenty of cops don’t take the words of intoxicated prostitutes seriously. Maybe she felt she had no choice. The police wouldn’t help and a monster knew what she looked like, so when Anne Chamber’s death fell into her lap, she seized the opportunity and became Anne Blaubart.”
“She would’ve been one of Frost’s first victims,” Bel said. “The Blaubarts have been married for years.”
“Makes sense why she went after a plastic surgeon, too. She could hide her differences from Chamber’s college pictures by merely requesting he perform touch-ups. She must’ve had criminal connections to find the island, which would explain why she was on the run. You don’t think she killed Anne, do you?”
“This is all hypothetical without evidence,” Bel said, “but no. If Anne Blaubart isn’t Anne Chambers, but a woman who escaped Frost’s violence, I doubt she would inflict harm on another woman after what she witnessed. My guess is Anne died accidentally, and instead of reporting it, whoever Mrs. Blaubartwas stoleher ID and became her.”
“I know this is theoretical.” Olivia sank back in her seat as Bel finally started the car’s engine. “But how else do you account for these butterflies? One is an oddity, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern. Three murders make a serial killer. I think three butterflies signal a concern. The only question is, how big a concern is it?”
“Before I let you go, I want to say how proud I am of how this station operated in my absence,” Sheriff Griffin said as he closed the morning briefing. He’d been absent the past few days while Jax Frost’s shooting was investigated, but it had granted him the much-needed rest with his wife after his dismissal from the hospital. The investigation ruled his actions were justified, as everyone knew it would be, and the entire station lovingly welcomed him back.
“Thank you, thank you, but that’s enough.” He smiled as the officers applauded him. “Now, back to work.”
The room laughed as they dispersed, but before Bel could leave the briefing, her boss limped toward her and cupped her elbow.
“Thanks for holding down the fort,” he said.
“It was no problem. I’m glad you’re back, though.” She wrapped him in a hug.
“Tired of handling my paperwork?”
“My god, there was so much paperwork,” she laughed. “But everything is done. Youjustneed to sign off on them.”
“Thank you. Ireallyappreciate it, but I’m back now, so I wanted to talk to you. You weren’t injured, nor did you fire your gun, but you were still involved in an officer-related shooting,” he said. “Work the rest of the day since you’re already here, but tomorrow’s Friday. Take a long weekend. Getting shot out is traumatizing, but getting shot at by a man unloading an assault rifle into the wall is a whole different nightmare. You’re running on adrenaline, but you might crash soon. I think you should get some sleep and see your therapist before that happens.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” she said. “I just feel bad leaving you guys with all this work.”
“The long weekend won’t make a difference. There will be a mountain of paperwork waiting for you on Monday.”
“Can’t wait.”
Griffin smirked, but before he could speak, his cell rang. “Hold on.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket, but Bel rubbed his arm and mouthed ‘It’s okay’ . The Sheriff nodded, and she left him to his call as she dialed one of her own.
“Detective,” Eamon answered on the first ring.
“Griffin’s back, so he’s giving me the long weekend off,” she said. “Care to spend it with me?”
“I would love to,” Eamon groaned, and Bel knew her hopes of a romantic weekend were dead. “I was going to tell you later, but one of my companies is teetering on the brink of ruin. I’ve been trying to do damage control from home, but it’s not working. I can meet you for dinner, but thenI’m catchingthe red eye. I’m so sorry, Isobel. You’ve been so busy that I wasn’t expecting you to be off. Any other business trip I’d postpone, but if I don’t go now, we’re looking at disaster.”
“Of course, you need to go,” she said. “You never stand in the way of my job. I wouldn’t dream of standing in yours. Besides, someone has to work to afford those expensive steaks Cerberus likes, and it certainly won’t be me, since I didn’t cause the addiction.”
“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling,” Eamon chuckled. “You baby him worse than me.”
“Okay, fine, I do baby him, but not with steaks that pricy. I can’t afford that, so go make that money.”
“As you command, Isobel. But I can have dinner with you, so if you want anything specific, text me. Perfect timing though, since I can’t babysit this weekend. Cerberus will be happy to hang out with Mom.”
“Poor boy. I miss him. I’ll see you at home.”
“I love it when you call my house home.”
Bel rolled her eyes. “Bye, Eamon.”
“Bye, Detective.”
“Oh my god, stop, my stomach hurts.” Violet collapsed forward as she laughed, her extended arm desperately trying not to spill her hazelnut coffee as she convulsed.
Instead of opting for a fancy dinner after work, Bel and Eamon had gotten takeout before his red eyeso they could maximize their time together. They’d eaten picnic-style before the grand fireplace Bel suspected he installed just because she’d gushed about a similar design on a TV show. They’d ordered Cerberus hisownmini meal, and the trio ate on the floor, filling the almost finished living room with laughter as Cerberus shredded a new stuffed toy. In her absence, Eamon had practically bought the entire pet store for her dog. She slept at his place after he left, but sleeping in Eamon’s bed without him didn’t have the same effect. Even Cerberus seemed restless, but he perked up when she dropped him off at her cabin. Neither of them had been home in days, and it felt good to be back, even if she’drather enjoy a lazy weekend before Eamon’s fireplace.
She’d then called an emergency session with her therapist, and it took only three minutes for her to realize how badly she needed to talk through the case. The shooting, The Matchstick Girls, and finding the drugged Sarah Bristol locked in an attic had profoundly disturbed her, but an hour and an entire box of tissues helped her take those dreaded first steps toward healing.
Needing something light after such an intense session, she met Violet at The Expresso Shot for lunch. When they sat down with their coffees and paninis, they agreed not to utter a single word about work, which was why her friend wascurrentlydoubled over, her entire body laughing at the innocent gossip.
“Right?” Bel giggled. “That was my reaction.”
“Oh my gosh, I needed this,” Violet said. “Relaunching Lumen’s Customs with Ewan’s pieces has been so stressful that I forgot how to laugh.”
“This was fun,” Bel said. “Thank you.”
“It was. Stop getting sucked into these insane cases that make it so you don’t exist.We haven’t had a girl’s night in forever,andweneed one.I know you and Olivia are busy with your ridiculously hunky boyfriends, but I miss you guys.”
“We miss you too, but from what I’ve seen, you might get yourownhunky boyfriend soon,” Bel teased.
“Oh my god, shut up before you start a rumor.” Violet shoved her knee playfully. “Deputy Rollo is cute, but we’re just friends.”
“Sure.” Bel winked.
“We are!” Violet turned bright red, confirming they were not ‘just friends.’ “Speaking of rumors, how come no one talks about you and Eamon? Or him in general? The sexiest, richest man in town is dating our favorite detective, and the gossip is silent.It’s likethey don’t even know he lives at the Reale Estate.”
“Eamon is… private,” Bel settled on. “When we first got together, Wendy Darling and her brotherswere livingwith him, so we hung around them for moral support. Then there was our vacation, Thanksgiving, and now this case. We’ve been too busy to go on public dates.”
“That makes sense,” Violet said. “I’m glad things are going well between you two. You light up when you talk about him.”
“He’s good for me…” she paused, Eamon’s striking features filling her memory. “He’s someone I never thought I would find.”
“You are in trouble,” Violet laughed as she dugthroughher purse and pulled out a pack of gum. “I know you have sisters, but if I’m not a bridesmaid,we’re going tohave a problem.”
“Woah, who said anything about getting married?” Bel said, distracted bythe wayViolet rolled the empty gum wrapper between her fingers. “We just started dating. There are no wedding bells in our future.”
“Oh, there are,” Violet teased, still rolling the gum wrapper until it was a tight ball.“Maybe not for a few years, but I’m telling younow,I better be a bridesmaid.”
“Okay, fine. If it happens, I’ll ask you first…do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“The gum wrapper?” Bel pointed to it. It was a popular brand, but the way she twisted it in her fingers had her seeing Anne. “Do you always roll it into a ball?”
“Um…” Violet glanced down. “I don’t think so. I was only rolling it because we’re talking.”
“So, that isn’t a habit?”
“No, definitely not,” Violet said. “UsuallyI throw it out, but sometimes, I fold it into a square.Other times,I leave it on my desk to wrap my chewed gum in.”
“And that flavor,” Bel said. “Do you always chew the same flavor and brand?”
“No. I have my favorites, but I usuallyjustgrab whatever I’m in the mood for when standing in the checkout line. Bel, are you okay? Why are you so interested in my gum?”
“So, you don’t have a habit with the wrapper, and you don’t stick to one brand or flavor,” Bel repeated.
“No,” Violet answered. “Why? Do you?”
“No, but I met someone who does. Someone whose routine is so specific that it’s impossible to ignore,”shesaid. “I’ve never seen anyone else do it, butthenthe other day, I came across the identical habit. Logic tells me they can’t be related, but what are the chances of an exact match appearing in three different scenarios in three different parts of the world?”
“I don’t knowexactlywhat you’re talking about, but coincidences occur all the time,” Violet said. “Every daypeoplerun into strangers who unexpectedly have the same friends, attended their alma mater, grew up in the same town, or have the same car. Coincidences are common in normallife,but in a homicide investigation? They don’t happen, especially when they connect multiple locations. I don’t have the details you do, but I see it in your eyes. You know these aren’t accidents. Otherwise, you wouldn’tbe so weirded outby my gum.” She met Bel’s gaze as if to say she knew a crime scene was where she’d encountered this specific habit. “Do you have a way to confirm the connections?”
“No…” Bel paused. After identifying Hazel Wyatt, they’d called the local police station to notify the parents of their daughter’s fate. After they delivered the death notice, the Wyatts instructed them to relay a message to the Bajka Police Department. They loved their daughter, and to honor her memory, they offered their help.
“Actually,maybe.” Bel stood up and threw out her empty coffee mug and sandwich wrapper. “If I needed you to babysit Cerberus tonight, could you?”
“Sure. I’ll keep my cats in another room, but who knows? They might get along.”
“Thanks.” Bel captured her friend in a hug. “I need to make a phone call.”
Bel knocked on the picturesque front door, and within seconds, a gentleman answered.
“Detective Emerson?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” She flashed her badge to confirm her identity.
“You madegreattime,” he said. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Bel stepped inside the modest but charming house and followed her host to the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt lived a few hours’ drive from Bajka, and after a call confirmed their willingness to meet, Bel had filled her car’s tank with gas and aimed for the highway. She could’ve mentioned her questions over the phone, but their daughter’s death was a difficult topic. She wanted to look them in the eyes when she broached the subject.
“Babe, the detective is here,” Mr. Wyatt said as they entered the kitchen, and the middle-aged woman offered Bel a sad smile.
“I made coffee. Would you like some?” she asked.
“I would love some.” Bel took a seat as the woman poured the brew into three mugs. She set them down on the table and then pushed cream and sugar into the center before placing a plate of biscottidownfor everyone to share.
“They’re just store-bought,” she said. “I’m not a baker, but I need something sweet with my coffee. Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” Bel fixed her coffee before she grabbed the dessert. “I have some questions, but before we begin, is there anything you’d like to ask first? I may not be able to give you all the details, but if there’s something you want to know, I’ll try to answer it for you.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s gaze slipped to Bel’s scars, and realizing she was a woman who understood trauma, she asked, “You were the detective on the case? The one who found our Hazel, right?”
“I was.”
“I heard you got the guy?” she asked.
“We did.”
“And he’s dead?”
“He opened fire on the police,” Bel answered. “The Bajka Sheriff shot him in self-defense.”
“Good.” Mrs. Wyatt grabbed her husband’s hand. “I shouldn’t say that, but I’m glad he’s dead.”
“It’s okay,” Bel said. “I think all the family members agree with you.”
They spent the next few minutes discussing the case, and she answered all the questions shewas allowed to. When the couple could no longer bear the details of their daughter’s death, they settled into their seats to wait for the reason a detective had driven so many miles to see them.
“Can you tell me about when Hazel went missing?” Bel asked. “I know the basics, but I would like to hear the full story if you’re comfortable.”
“Hazel was in college when she made friends with a woman in her early thirties,” Mrs. Wyatt started. “Her name was Annalise, and she’d returned to school as a student. Her reasoning had something to do with her boyfriend. She wanted to appear more intelligent because he was a CEO or something. I don’t know the specifics, but she and Hazel got along well. Hazel liked having an older friend. Our daughter was always mature, and she wasn’t a party girl. She liked that Annalise was reserved and sophisticated. Instead of frat parties, they’d go to wine tastings, museums, and plays. Welikedher for Hazel. Every parent is relieved when their kid has no interest in getting wasted in a frat house.
“Three years ago, Annalise invited Hazel on a summer trip.It was after graduation,andHazelhadmanaged straightA’s while working part-time all four years.We felt she should see the world before transitioning to a corporate job. Annalise’s boyfriend was footing the bill, so they both left with promises to keep in touch. Only we never saw them again.”
“Annalise is missing too?” Bel asked.
“Yes. I wonder if she was in…” Mrs. Wyatt trailed off.
“Do you have any photos of her?” Bel asked.
“Yes. The last text Hazel ever sent me was a selfie of them at the airport. Theywere going tobe traveling a lot, so she warned me they’d be without service often. She said it might be a few weeks before she could call home, so she sent me this picture to say goodbye. It’s why we didn’t realize she was missing at first. She cautioned us there would occasionally be no contact.” Mrs. Wyatt slid her phone across the table, and Bel’s heart ached to see the two girls smiling at the camera in a message thread that had sat unused for three years.
“Can I send this to myself?” Bel asked. “I don’t recognize Annalise, but not all The Matchstick Girls had missing person reports filed. This might help us identify her if she was with Hazel.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” Bel texted the photo to her phone before returningherhost’s cell. “Annalise’s boyfriend? Did he have a name?”
“She never mentioned it, unfortunately,” Mrs. Wyatt said. “Just that he was rich, and they were in love. Sometimes I wondered if he was real because Annalise was usually with Hazel, and we never saw him. I assumed they were long distance, and he didn’t care to hang out with college students, but he always struck us as odd.”
“Did Annalise worry you?” Bel asked.
“No. She was nice. Maybealittle too trusting and unrealistic, but she was lovely. Beautiful too.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Yes. It was Sept.”
“Thank you.” Bel pulled up her camera roll and selected the photo of the butterfly Hazel had been clutching when she died. “I have one more question for you. We found this gum wrapper origami clutched in your daughter’s hand. Do you have an idea why she would’ve been holding this? We’re trying to determine its importance and who it belonged to.”
“Oh, those.” Mrs. Wyatt ran a finger over the image, and everything inside Bel stood at attention. “Yes, it makes sense Hazel had this. Annalise had this nervous habit with gum wrappers. She loved this brand and flavor, which I don’t understand because it’s blandin my opinion, but every time she chewed gum, she folded the wrapper into these origami butterflies.”