Chapter 7
“I’ve never been so happy to see you walk through my doors,” Lina Thum said as she wrapped her arms around Bel. “Don’t ever end up on my table again.”
“I don’t intend to.” Bel recovered from her surprise and returned the medical examiner’s embrace. Thewomenhad never hugged before, so it took her a second to respond.
“Sorry I didn’t welcome you back properly yesterday,” Lina said. “I wasn’t expecting to find a woman torn apart in the woods.”
“None of us were.” Bel released the M.E. and followed her into the back to prep for the morning’s autopsy.
“Some welcome home, huh?”
“I’ll say.”
“If the exam becomes overwhelming for you, let me know,” Lina said as they donned their protective gear. “I’ll get Gold to come down instead.”
“Olivia isn’t coming?” Bel’s stomach dropped.
“No, since you’re here to collect the evidence, she said her time would be better served elsewhere. But again, if it’s too much for you, I’ll call her.”
“I doubt this will be worse than seeing the victim bloody in the woods yesterday. I don’t want to give up this job, so I shouldn’t put things off. The longer I do, the harder it’ll be to get back into the swing of things… besides, you were the one who saw my dead doppelg?nger. It will be good for me to stay with you.”
“I agree. Thank you,” Lina said as the women entered the exam room. “I still can’t figure out how that surgeon transformed another woman into you. If we ran your fingerprints and DNA, we would’ve eventually learned it wasn’t you, but it was eerily exact. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see the body,”Bel lied. She knew exactly how Dr. Blaubart had faked her death. With a scalpel cursed by black magic. A dangerous weapon that was now under Eamon’s protection.
“I’m glad you didn’t see it. You’ve been through enough.” The women paused before the examination table. “Are you ready?”
“I hope so.”
Lina began the exam, documenting her finds as she went, and Bel stood watch to collect the evidence. She tried to focus on the job and not the disfigured torso, forcing herself to be clinical in her approach. She could do this. She was a detective and a survivor. She’d been gifted a second chance when Gwen Rossa hadn’t, and she refused to waste that.
“There are no defensive wounds on the body,” Lina finally spoke. “She has some scrapes on her arms, but they aren’t injuries associated with self-defense. They were probably from running through the trees.”
“So she wasn’t made to wear that cloak with force,” Bel said. “She either disrobed willingly for the killer or took her clothes off under mental duress.”
“There are no signs of sexual assault or activity of any kind. If she’d planned to hook up with someone, she died before they got very far. And this attack feels animalistic.” Lina pointed to the torn abdomen. “A sharp, curved blade carved these wounds… like a claw, but I don’t think any North American predators possess claws this specifically elongated. The animal would have to be massive.”
Ewan flashed through Bel’s memory before Eamon’s words shoved to the forefront of her mind. “I have a theory,” she said. “Aesop’s Files is a paranormal police procedural. Monsters and crime scenes and over-the-top drama.”
“I’ve heard, but I don’t watch it,” Lina said. “It has its fans, but it’s too unrealistic for me. If I’m going to enjoy a show with vampires, witches, and werewolves in it, I need them to scare the living daylights out of me. I also believe that if supernatural beings existed, they wouldn’t be quirky characters interacting with humans. They’d be predators, and we’d be the prey.”
‘Like Eamon,’ Bel thought to herself. ‘And Ewan, Alcina, The Tinker, Dr. Blaubart.’ They were all predators, and she’d been terrified of every single one of them.
“But your theory?” Lina prompted.
“Gwen Rossa was the Aesop’s Files head writer,” Bel explained. “And she dies in an overly dramatic way that’s reminiscent of the show’s deaths. Ripped apart in the woods while wearing only a red hood. It’s like the killer’s mimicking the show, paranormal aspectsand all.”
“Well, that’s scary,” Lina said.
“Is it possible that these lacerations were inflicted by prop claws?” Bel asked. “Did a fan want to live the show so badly that they created a weapon to reenact its murders?”
“Honestly? That makes a lot more sense than an animal killing this woman. I’ll keep that in mind when I examine the wounds,” Lina said. “Plus, that box with the ribbon. It was so… theatrical. You might be right. Someone could’ve followed the cast and crew here to recreate episodes with thevery people thatproduced them. Is there a red hood case in one of the seasons?”
“I’d have to double-check,” Bel said. “It pisses me off that the producers won’t halt filming while we investigate. This is merely a theory, but if someone’s recreating the show, a lot more people could die. The studio is willingly putting both its cast and crew and the fan in danger.”
“Good lord, please no more bodies,” Lina said. “Our town is overflowing. If we have a delusional killer on our hands, things will get messy quickly… not to mention the publicity. Can you imagine what will happen to Bajka when word gets out? Now add more than one crew member to the death toll?” She shuddered.
“Hopefully we find something during this exam that points us in the right direction. Most killers get sloppy.”
“Not in this town,” Lina laughed humorlessly. “We seem to attract the smart criminals… Oh, that box. Did you figure out what those letters meant?”
“Yes, I think so,” Bel said. “Not that it makes sense.”
“What do—what’s that?” The M.E. leaned over Rossa’s head, aiming the overhead light for a clearer view. “Come here. This is weird.”
Bel joined her, and after snapping some photos, Lina pressed her gloved finger to the woman’s eyeballs.
“Contact lenses,” she said as she pulled the object from Gwen’s eyes.
“What’s weird about that?” Bel asked.
“There’s something wrong with them. Hold on.” She moved to the magnifying glass. “Yeah, look. There’s a design on them. These aren’t normal contacts.”
“Design?” Bel joined her, and sure enough, the tiny lenses had what appeared to be a miniature landscape etched into them. “What big eyes you have,” she whispered, Eamon’s decoded message suddenly obvious.
“What?” Lina asked.
“The random letters in that gift box. It’s a Caesar Cipher,and it spelled out, ‘What big eyes you have.’ The killer was telling us to look in her eyes.”
“I’ll have a tech enlarge the image, but it looks like snowy trees. Do you think it’s Rossa’s murder site?”
“I can’t tell, but I doubt it,” Bel said. “These were manufactured in advance, so how could the killer know exactly where he would kill Gwen? Unless multiple perpetrators corralled her, he couldn’t have predicted where she’d flee.”
“Maybe it’s meant as a vague representation,” Lina said. “She died in the woods, and her eyes saw woods.”
“Either way,” Bel said, “this murder was premeditated.”
“Oh my god, it’s her!” a voice shrieked as Bel stepped out of her car. “That’s the detective!” A swarm of fans surged for her, and she launched into a jog, barely slipping inside the precinct before the cell phone mob accosted her.
“You all right?” Officer Rollo asked as he planted his body in front of the glass door, signaling withbothhis size and his uniform that no one was getting into the station.
“I’m fine, thanks. I take it word got out?” she asked.
“Unfortunately. It’s all over the news and social media, and fans are holding vigils. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”
“I don’t have social media, and I was in the morgue all morning.”
“Gotcha.”
“Is Griffin here?” she asked.
“In his office,” Rollo said.
“Thank you.” She jogged up the stairs. “And good luck out there today,” she called over her shoulder. They all needed it now. “Sheriff?” She knocked on his door, and when he beckoned her inside, she gave him a rundown of the autopsy, starting with her decoding of the cipher and ending with the discovery of the contact lenses.
“We got a tech to enlarge the image, and I printed it outas well asuploaded a digital copy.” She lay the shot of the snowy forest before her boss. “Whoever killed Gwen inserted the contacts into her eyes, and they act similarly to film negatives.”
“These woods don’t look like the crime scene,” Griffin said. “The snow’s in the foreground, with the trees in the background. Gwen Rossa was murdered in the middle of the forest.”
“Lina wondered if it generically represented the scene. Girl found dead in the woods with woods in her eyes,” Bel said. “Or it’s an actual place.”
“What kind of place?”
“Who knows?” Bel shrugged. “Where he hid victim number two?”
Griffin’s gaze shot up from the photo to meet hers. “You don’t think…?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe Lina is right, and they’re symbolic. Maybe this location meant something to Gwen or the killer. Or maybe this clue points to where we’ll find the next body.”
“I certainly hope not. Half of the Reale Estate and all the state parks are forests. We could search for years, and never locate these exact trees.”
“I hope not too,” Bel said. “I was just thinking out loud since everything about this death is strange.”
“Mmhmm,” Griffin grunted. “These contacts are a custom job, though. Where would someone get something like this?”
“The costume department,” Bel blurted, an idea suddenly coming to her. “Films often use contact lenses to change actors’ eyes. Especially when the characters are supernatural creatures.” She gave him a rundown of her theory about the killer mimicking the show, ending her explanation with how both custom contacts and weapons were something art departments were well versed in creating.
“You mentioned Rossa had no defensive wounds,” Griffin said. “So, she most likely knew her attacker. If it were someone she worked with, she wouldn’t have fought back until it was too late.”
“If a crew member wanted to kill his coworkers, Bajka is the place to do it,” Bel said. “Smaller town, sprawling nature, and a horde of fans to blame it on. It’s much easier here amidst the chaos than in the city or on a closed set.”
“Make the deaths theatrical, and suddenly, we’re looking for a crazed fan, not a disgruntled employee. That’s where my brain certainly went.”
“Mine too.”
“Come on.” He stood and grabbed his keys. “The weather compromised the scene, so we have little else to go on. Let’s speak to the producers about who had access to the set design. They might respond better if I’m there to question them.”
“You sure?” Bel chased after him. “Olivia and I can go.”
“I have Gold helping elsewhere,” Griffin said, aiming for his truck, and Bel opened her mouth to ask if her partner had requested that they be separated, but her boss cut her off before she could speak.
“I hope you don’t mind since you’re friends, but we’re stretched too thin to have you both running down every lead together. Plus…” he glanced at her as if decidingif he shouldadmit the truth. “Don’t yell at me, but I want to keep an eye on you.”
Bel laughed as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Did you and Eamon meet and designate shifts?” she teased.
“No… but we should,” her boss teased back. “Oddly enough, I’m generally wary of your boyfriend, but when it comes to your life, he’s the only person besides myself, your dog, and your father that I trust with your safety. He’s repeatedly proven that you come first… even before the law.”
“Not everyone is perfect.” Bel shrugged. “And he’ll be glad that you want to follow me around. Christmas break was… tough for us. I scared him.”
“Emerson, you scared us all. I was terrified when Abel kidnapped you and Gold, but seeing your body double on the slab? You were dead.” Her boss twisted as if he were checking the road for traffic, and Bel played along, both of them knowing the movement was to hide the tears threatening his eyes. “It’s why I want to work this case with you. I need proof you didn’t die on my watch.”
“Okay, now Ireallythink you and Eamon got together for a chat.”
“Maybe we should if it’ll stop you from scaring us.”
Thirty minutesanda few gentle police badge threatslater, Bel and Griffin sat in Bajka’s Bed-and-Breakfast dining room with the producers, Evelyn Pierce and Alistair Rot.
“Anyone on set could technically access our costumes and props,” Miss Pierce said. “Our entire show revolves around creatures and murders. Custom works appear in every episode, so it isn’t hard to steal prop weapons. We use different types based on the scene’s requirements. Rubberforwhen actors need to wield them. Bladeless for fight scenes. They’re just handles, and we digitally add blades in post-production. Then there are the real deals for close-ups. Those, along with some creature suits, could be deadly… although I can’t think of any reason a crew member would want to murder Miss Rossa. Her scripts are well-received by the public. This show has created steady work for everyone involved, so killing her wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest.”
“So to confirm, almost anyone on set could access the custom weapons and costumes?” Griffin asked, and when Evelyn nodded, he continued. “Have you noticed any props go missing recently?”
“Props disappear all the time,” Alistair Rot chimed in. “Actors and crew members love their souvenirs. And even if they weren’t stealing them, a set is the best example of controlled chaos. There’s a fine line between making art and meeting deadlines, and it’s hard enough finishing a season, let alone keeping track of every item that may or may not have gone missing.”
“Even if that missing item becomes a murder weapon?” Bel asked, and she could tell bythe wayMr. Rot stiffened he disliked that she kept challenging him.
“We don’t make murder weapons on purpose,” Evelyn said.
“Technically you do,” Bel said. “Your entire show revolves around murder.”
“Fictional murders, Detective. Our crew makes props, not weapons. Now, if someone used a prop for a reason other than its intended use, I’m unaware, but I doubt it. We’re all committed to making Aesop’s Files a success.”
“Regardless of your intentions, can we have the names of the art department’s crew members?” Griffin asked. “We’ll need to talk to them.”
“Yes, of course. What email should I send the contacts to?” Evelyn glanced up expectantly as she sat with her phone poised at the ready, and Bel didn’t miss the way every fiber of Alistair’s body protested her willingness to help. She studied the producer as his colleague typed the art departments’ names, and while he said nothing with his voice, his eyes spoke volumes. He didn’t want them digging, which meant they were on the right track.
“Hello? Anyone in here?” Griffin called as he and Bel climbed into the production trailer.
“Hi, can I help you?” A woman emerged from behind one of the many clothing racks vomiting color and fabric over every inch of available space. “Sheriff? Is something wrong?”
“I’m looking for the costume designer, Ellery Roja,” he answered.
“That’s me,” she said.
“Miss Roja, I’m Sheriff Griffin, and this is Detective Emerson. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
“I guess not.” She scanned her surroundings. “As long as you don’t mind if I work while we talk.”
“Not at all,” he said as they followed the woman to her sewing machine.
“Thanks. We have a decent-sized cast, and both Beau and Taron needmultiplesof the same outfit for their fight scenes. First is the clean version, then the dirty version of the same outfit as the struggle progresses, and a destroyed version for the end. Plus, many of our creatures are achieved with makeup, practical effects, and costuming—which I’ve won awards for—so I can’t afford to take a break… ever.”
“We won’t take up too much of your time,” Griffin said. “Do you recognize this?” He showed her a photo of Gwen Rossa’s red cloak.
“Um… no,” she said. “We haven’t had a character wear a crimson hood.”
“How long have you been the costume designer?” Bel asked. So much for their theory that the killer was mimicking a specific episode.
“Since season one,” Ellery answered. “Back then, it was just me. Now I work withan entireteam of seamstresses, leather cutters, metal workers, jewelry designers—you name it.”
“Could your team members have created this without your knowledge?” Bel asked.
“I guess so, but not for the show. All episode designs come through me.”
“But in their free time?” Bel asked.
“Sure, but if you think someone on my team killed Gwen, you’re mistaken,” Ellery said. “We are artists. Not murderers.”
“Still, where were you the night before last between midnight and sunrise?” Griffin asked.
“In my hotel room,” she answered. “It was snowing… a lot. I wasn’t going outside.”
“Can your department make custom contact lenses?” Griffin asked. “And you said the creatures are created using practical effects. Would that include functional claws?”
“Um, have you seen this show?” The designer gawked at themas if they werealiens who’d never set foot on Earth.
“I take that as a yes,” he said.
“It’s half of what I do.” She leaned over and snagged what looked like a shaggy carpet. “Here’s an example.” She handed Griffin the fur, and he twisted it so Bel could see the bear-like claws.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She fingered the sharp tips. “They seem too small.”
“We make all sizes,” Ellery said. “There are a lot of creatures on the show, and these are just the costumes. The prop department makes the weapons, and the special effects team oversees the practical effects. We have every version of a claw that you can imagine.”
“Can anyone come by and take stuff?” Bel asked as she slipped her hand into the glove, her fingers transforming into a monster.
“We lock up at night, but sure,” Ellery said. “Our production assistants run props and costumes for us. My team and I handle the important or expensive items, but the cast and the crew have access to everything else.”
“So someone could’ve created that red cloak or a weapon without your knowledge, then removed it fromset?” Bel pushed.
“Well, I can’t speak to the prop department, but it’s entirely possible. We’reincredibly busy, Detective, and we sew costumes. It’s not like we’re creating bombs and leaving them unattended for anyone to snag. The special effect crews are the ones with explosives, but they maintain a much tighter control over their creations.Ijustmake outfits and creatures.”
Bel glanced at Griffin, and the hardness of his gaze told her he agreed. It wasn’t the slam dunk they needed to identify a suspect, but it supported her theory that a cast or crew member could’ve used the show’s designs to kill one of their own.
“Did you work with Gwen Rossa often?” Bel asked.
“No. I knew her, but we didn’t work closely. She wrote the scripts and edited them with the directors, who then met with me to map out the character visions. The show rotates directors, but Warren Rouge has the most episode credits. I know him well, but Gwen and I rarely spent time in the same room.”
“So, you wouldn’t know if anyone hated her or wished her harm?” Bel asked.
“Unfortunately, no… why all the questions? The reporters are saying it was a crazed fan.”
“We cannot comment about ongoing investigations,” Griffin said.
“Ha,” Ellery scoffed. “So weird hearing that outside ofset. But I understand.”
“Are there any problematic crew members?” Bel pressed. “Or someone who had a grievance with another cast or crew member?”
“No. Aesop’s Files was almost canceled a few years ago, but after going viral, we became one of the most viewed shows. We’re all thankful for this opportunity.”
And there it was.
Bel figured Miss Roja didn’t even realize she’d done it, but the second she said they were thankful for the opportunity, her demeanor changed. It was a subtle shift, a flash across her features, but Bel had been watching for it. Someone wasn’t happy with the show’s success, and Ellery Roja knew who it was.
“So, no disgruntled employees?” Bel stepped closer to the woman, forcing her neck to strain as she looked up. “Someone who didn’t stick around long enough to see Aesop’s Files’ fame?”
“We’ve had people leave,” she said. “Like Willow Moon.”
“We heard Miss Moon’s departure was amicable,” Bel said.
“It was…I wasjustsaying everyone from production assistants to directors has left.”
“A show this size. It’s unlikely that everyone departed on good terms. Someone must have been fired.”
“Of course, people were fired,” Ellery said.
Now they were getting somewhere.
“Were any of these fired employees disgruntled?”
“I don’t know.” The weird look passed over Roja’s features again, and Griffin crossed his arms over his chest.
“Withholding information in a murder investigation could result in an obstruction of justice charge,” he said, hovering authoritatively over the designer.
“There was one guy.” Ellery caved. “But we all signed non-disclosures.”
“Why?” Griffin asked. “The Bajka Police Department had to sign a non-disclosure agreement since we’re outsiders, but is it normal to gag all your employees from talking about their colleagues?”
“The contracts are to protect from spoilers and leaks,” she explained. “But anything that happens on set cannot be talked about outside of the show’s production, and since this happened while filming, I am legally required to keep quiet.”
“Convenient,” Bel said. No one on this show liked to answer questions.
“I could lose my job if I speak about it.” Ellery’s eyes flicked around the trailer as if someone might pop outthe minute she spoke and drag her away from her machine, but Bel remained silent. Sometimes silence was more effective thaninterrogations,since most people often couldn’t bear the weight of a police officer’s wordless stare.
“I can disclose what was released during the court case.” It seemed Miss Roja was weaker than most. “A set designer named Orion Chayce worked for the show a few years ago, and he was in charge of rigging the practical effect. There was a malfunction one day duringshooting, though, and it killed a lighting technician. The investigation proved the accident was due to negligence on Chayce’s part, and he was charged with involuntary manslaughter. He served time for it and was fired, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Griffin repeated.
“Is he still in prison?” Bel asked.
“I think so?” It came out like a question. “I’m not sure. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work. I have a lot to finish before tomorrow’s shoot.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time.” Griffin gripped Bel’s elbow and guided her out of the trailer.
“Was it just me, or was she lying about that technician’s death?” he asked when they’d locked themselves inside his truck.
“Oh, she was lying through her teeth,” Bel confirmed. “There’s something about that story that she doesn’t want us finding out.”
“Or maybe she was warning us.” Griffin started the engine and cranked the heat before grabbing Bel’s hands and pressing them against the blowers. It seemed she wasn’t the only one haunted by the memory of her bandaged fingers. “She can’t tell us what happened, but she didn’t have to bring him up, either. I’m sure dozens of employees have been fired over the years. She could’ve picked any of them, but she mentioned the only person she’s not allowed totalk about. We’re cops. She knows we’ll figure it out.”
“Which makes you wonder whatreallyhappened to that prop,” Bel said. “If it required a non-disclosure agreement, was it an accident? I’m willing to bet it wasn’t.”
“Learn anything?” Bel asked as she slipped inside Griffin’s office with sandwiches in one hand and coffees in the other. Neither had eaten, so she’d volunteered to grab them a quick deli lunch while he looked into Orion Chayce’s case.
“You’re never going to believe it,” he said as he accepted the food. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Bel plopped onto the couch. As much as she missed Olivia, she enjoyed working with her boss. The safety he offered made it easier for her to slip back into the role of detective. “And don’t tell me. Chayce is out on parole.”
“He is, but that’s not all.” Griffin bit into his sandwich. “He never showed up for his last check-in with his parole officer, and no one’s seen him since.”
“He’s missing?” Bel almost choked on her lunch.
“He’s missing.”
Bel cursed and set her food down on her boss’ desk so she wouldn’t accidentally suck another crumb down the wrong tube. “What if the malfunction that killed the tech wasn’t an accident? It felt like Ellery Roja was lying when she mentioned Chayce, so what if he was just the scapegoat? He gets blamed for an accident he didn’t cause and ends up serving time.”
“And now he’s out for revenge,” Griffin finished for her.
“If he skipped parole, he could very well be in town,” Bel said. “He has special effects experience. He could’ve easily created the custom weapon used to kill Gwen Rossa.”
“But why her?” Griffin asked. “She’s a writer. How could she be responsible for a prop malfunction?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she ran into it and knocked a piece off, but didn’t bother to fix it, so he blames her for the accident. Or maybe she wassimplypresent when it happened, and Chayce associates her with the guilty parties.”
“I don’t like this.” Griffin placed his half-eaten sandwich on the desk. “If Chayce skipped parole to get revenge on the people who sent him to prison, I doubt Gwen Rossa is his only target. He’ll kill again, and our town is bursting at the seams with strangers. If he’s here, he won’t be easy to find.”
“We’re already stretched so thin,” Bel said. “We don’t have the numbers for a manhunt.”
“I can talk to the producers again. With this new information, they might consider canceling or postponing the fan events… not that I have high hopes for that. Without concrete proof,all we have isa missing parolee and a theory.”
“And they seemed adamant about keeping to the schedule,” Bel said. “The whole thing is weird. Refusing to pause shooting when your show’s writer is brutally murdered. Creating a madhouse by hosting events at the same times as a location shoot. It’s unorthodox. Does a show this popularreallyneed extra money?”
“Unfortunately, we’ve seen what wealth drives people to do,” Griffin said. “A man married a woman just to murder her and her young brothers to gain their inheritance. Meet-and-greets are nothing compared to that.”
“You’re right. It’s just?—”
“A lot,” he finished for her. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can always call for help.”
“I don’t want another detective taking over my case,” Bel said. “This is my town and my job. Blaubart took enough from me. He isn’t stealing anything else.”
“Okay. I had to check. I’ll stick with you when I can, though.”
“Thanks… but I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Isobel Emerson a burden?” Griffin rolled his eyes. “We’d havea lotmore cold cases if it weren’t for you. Now eat your sandwich so we can brief everyone about Chayce. We need to find him before he finds his next target.”
“Olivia!” Bel chased after her partner, catching up with her just as she exited the station.
After lunch, Griffin had called a meeting to discuss the Orion Chayce lead before leaving to reason with Aesop’s Files producers. The officers returned to the chaos, and the rest of the day transformed into a madhouse of paperwork, endless patrols, evidence examinations, and volatile crowd control, all against the backdrop of eager reporters and nosy social media posters. It seemed everyone with a cell phone considered themselves a reporter investigating Gwen Rossa’s murder, and Bel almost ducked out of instinct as she exited the precinct. She hated that her face had undoubtedly appeared on dozens of social media posts, and she wondered if Eamon had a contact that could scour the internet and erase her features from the fans’ online hysteria.
“Are you hungry?” she asked when Olivia stopped walking. “We could grab takeout and work at my place, or yours.”
“I have leftovers in my fridge,” her partner said. “But I’ll email you if I find anything.”
“Olivia.” Bel wrapped her arms around herself as she cut off Gold’s escape. She should’ve grabbed a coat because it seemed they were doing this in the freezing parking lot. “I don’t care what we eat, but we work together. We haven’t had time to talk, but if we don’t make time, we’ll avoid each other forever. You’re my best friend, and I?—”
“No!” Olivia hissed. “Because if you were my best friend, you would’ve warned me I was sleeping with a monster.”
“He’s not?—”
“He is.” Olivia stepped closer so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice and risk being caught on someone’s cell phone camera. “You might think so because compared to whatever devil Eamon is, a bear is normal, but to me? I was in love with him, Bel. I told you I thought he was the one, and you just kept your mouth shut. Youwere going tolet me marry a bear without warning me who I’d let into my life. Youwere going tolet me end up with cubs for kids, and that’s not something friends do. So no, I won’t make time to talk. I’ll work with you because I’m a professional, but I can’t be friends with a liar.”
“They weren’t my secrets to tell,” Bel argued.
“Maybe not Eamon’s, but Ewan’s? You owed me the truth about him. Have you seen it? Have you seen his bear?”
Bel nodded.
“How many times?”
She didn’t answer.
“How many times?” Olivia’s volume increased.
“Twice,” she admitted. “Once before I knew what he was and again when he shifted in front of me.”
“You’ve seen him shift? When?”
“Olivia…”
“When?”
“The Darling case. He helped us find the boys.”
“The Darling case? You’ve known for that long?” Olivia walked away before whirling around and storming back. “The minute I mentioned I loved him, you should’ve warned me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“What if he’d been cheating on me?” Olivia asked. “That technically would’ve been his secret to tell, but if you’d caught him in the act, would you have just stayed silent? Would you let me plan a wedding to a man who didn’t care enough to stay faithful?”
“OfcourseI would’ve told you,” Bel said. “But that’s different.”
“It’s not! You knew something damning about my boyfriend, and you kept it a secret. I would’ve never dated Ewan if I’d known the truth.”
“He’s a good man,” Bel argued.
“He’s a liar. Just like you.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my life has been hell lately,” Bel spat. “So, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your boyfriend when my boyfriend ordered him to tell you. That was between you two.”
“Why? Because your boyfriend said so?”
“Yes.” Bel got in her partner’s face, unsure if she was mad about Olivia’s accusations or that she was losing her temper. “We aren’t dealing with humans. Our laws don’t apply to them, so to you, Eamon is just some wealthy prick, but in their world, he is a god. He’s one of the most powerful creatures to walk this earth, and men like him kill men like Ewan for trespassing in their territory. But Eamon loves me, and I love you, so he made an exception. He ordered Ewan to tell you in exchange for staying in Bajka unharmed, so I’m sorry I said nothing in between the murders and myownkidnappings. It wasn’t my job.”
“I know your life has been awful,” Olivia hissed. “I worked with Eamon to help find you because I’d never leave you to die, and I’d do it again, but there’s a difference between not wanting you dead and not wanting to be your friend. I won’t ever let you die, but I can’t get past the lies, Bel. You and I had plenty of unchaotic moments together. You could’ve warned me what I was walking into, but you didn’t. So, I’ll work with you. I will always protect you, but we aren’t friends anymore. Stop trying to talk to me.Unless you have case information, I don’t want to hear it.”