Chapter 13
“His letters initially seemed harmless,” Taron said. “Someone goes through my fan mail to assess the safety before it ever gets to me. Is something harmful in the package? Would it be damaging to my mental health? Does it include content that warrants dialing 911? If she doesn’t find anything concerning, she passes the mail on to me, and this fan seemed innocent, if nota littlenonsensical. Written in beautiful prose, his letters read like the ramblings of a well-spoken poet, but then I noticed this.” She slid her phone across the table. “They look like normal hand-written correspondence.” She pointed at the photograph. “But see how some words are penned darker than others. It’s not instantly noticeable, but when you keep getting flowery letters delivered to you repeatedly without rhyme or reason, you start searching for meaning. At first, I wondered if it was just the pen running dry, and the author needed to press harder, but for curiosity’s sake, I wrote those words down on a separate piece of paper, and his messages suddenly made sense.”
Bel grabbed the expensive phone and pulled it closer, her eyes trailing over the darker words on the written page. “ You wore that red scarf I love ,” she readthe hidden message out loud, her stomach clenching at the fan’s mention of red clothing. “ It fluttered behind you, and I wondered what would happen if the wind blew too hard. Would it choke you? Would you die? You would be so pretty sprawled out on the sidewalk with crimson around your throat. It would be like a scene from your show. I watch every episode. I love them all. You would be so pretty if you died, but I would miss you. The. W. O. L. F … the wolf?” Bel’s eyes shot up to Taron’s before flicking to Eamon. “Do you know who sent this?”
“No,” Taron said. “All I know is that he always traces the letters W, O, L, and F darker after the word The, so I think he calls himself The Wolf. There’s never a return address on the envelopes, and because his mail is whimsical yet meaningless, they make it through the screening process.”
“He did that on purpose,” Bel said. “If he wrote that line about the sidewalk outright, the letters would’ve been delivered to the police.”
“I know,” Taron said. “But the dead on the sidewalk isn’t the scariest part.”
“What is?” Eamon asked.
“The red scarf,” Taron said. “The paparazzi and random social media users post photos of me all the time, so it’s easy to reference what I wear, but every letter The Wolf sends mentions something he shouldn’t know. Likethe scarf fluttering in the wind. Before I received this one, I’d gone out for coffee alone, so that day stuck in my memory. I felt safe going by myself because it was freezing, and I was bundled up. No one recognized me, but there was this massive gust of wind that almost ripped my favorite red scarf off my throat.”
“He was watching you,” Bel said.
“I think so. Everything he says is always slightly off-color and personal. Like the letter where he mentioned he didn’t like when I cursed when my heel got stuck in a crack. I remember muttering itunder my breathbecause people were taking photos of me. The last thing I wanted was a video of me cursing like a sailor going viral, which means he had to have been extremely close when that happened.”
“Have you brought this to anyone’s attention?” Bel asked. “Or taken it to the police.”
“I showed the letters to the studio executives, but they dismissed it. The slightly darker words aren’t exactly hard evidence.”
“But when you read them together, they make sense,” Bel said. “Anyone can see they’re threats against you.”
“But if there’s a stalker, the show might have to pause production, so the executives view The Wolf as merely a fan who writes nonsense. So you can understand why I didn’t want to visit you publicly. I need help. I need someone who believes me. Listen, I love my job. And yes, I’m shallow. I love being famous and pretty, and I love all the clothes and handsome men, but I’m self-aware enough to recognize it. I’m not cruel. I’m never mean to my fans, and I’m not delusional. I appreciate that I live a life of privilege, but I’m a decent person. I don’t deserve someone stalking me only to have the studio ignore my fear, and now with these murders, I’m worried I’m next.”
“Well, I don’t dismiss concerns like this,” Bel said. “Not when two other women have already died horribly. Tell me, how well did you know Orion Chayce?”
“Who?” Taron asked.
“The crew member who worked on the set design. His malfunctioning prop killed a lighting technician.”
“Oh, that guy. Sorry, I never met him. He was arrested before I joined the cast, soI couldn’t tell you anything about it.”
“Wait… so you don’t know Chayce?”
“Not in the least.”
“Hmmm,” Bel grunted, her theory hitting a snag. If Taronwasn’tpart of the show when Chayce’s accident occurred, he’d have no reason to kill her.
“Why did you ask about that guy?” the actress asked. “Did he kill Gwen and Ellery?”
“We don’t know. Right now, we’re just looking for possible suspects. His accident led to jail time, sohe could be seeking revenge.”
“Okay… that makes sense, but I doubt he’d be after me. I’m more afraid of whoever this Wolf is.”
“Do you still have his letters?” Bel asked. “I’d like to test them for prints and DNA.”
“Not here, no,” Taron said. “I turned most over to the producers. I should’ve gone to the police instead, but they want us to bring things to them first so they can prep their lawyers if needed.”
“Have you received any since you arrived in Bajka?”
“No, thankfully.”
“Okay, well if you do?—”
“You’ll be the first person I show them to,” Taron said.
“And talk to your mail assistant. See if she can get me the originals of those older letters.”
“Will do.”
“And Taron, thank you for being honest. We keep getting roundabout answers,and it’smaking it difficult to work this case.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to die, or anyone else for that matter. I’m not a detective like you, so I don’t do death and dismemberment unless it’s a prop. I enjoy acting, and pretending to be a tough cop is fun, but I’m not the real deal, nor do I wish to be. These deaths are freaking me out, and I don’t want to be next.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Bel said. “We’re taking every precaution to protect the cast and crew while you’re in town, but for the love of God, do me a favor, please. Don’t leave thebed-and-breakfastalone at night again. I mean it. We don’t know how he got Rossa, but we believe the killer took Roja when she made a midnight snack run. Don’t do that. Go to work. Go home and stay there. If you need to leave, get a police escort.”
“Or call me,” Eamon said. “I have the money to ensure your safety, and I would prefer no more women die on my property.”
“Thanks,” Taron said, and Bel realized he was trying to help, but Miss Monroe seemed to take his invitation a little too personally. Bel understood. It was hard not to grow intoxicated by her millionaire, and the brief flicker of green in her chest provedhow much she loved him. It also betrayed how much of his dark past she’d forgiven. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him to another woman, but her dog lying across his lap was convincing proof that the Impaler no longer belonged to the devil but to her.
“It’s getting late,” she said, gathering the empty teacups and placing them in the sink. “And we all have early mornings. Was there anything else you wished to share?”
“No, that was it.” The actress returned her focus to Bel. “And thank you for listening. You have no idea how relieved I feel now that someone is taking this seriously.”
“Of course.” Bel shook the woman’s hand. “If you remember anything else, find me… not in the dark where I might shoot you, though.”
“I will, and I’m sorry about earlier. Thanks for not shooting me.” Taron moved for the door and donned her outerwear. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait.” Bel grabbed her coat and gestured for Eamon to join her. “A deputy is posted outside the bed-and-breakfast, but remember what I said about not wandering alone at night. That means even in a car, so we’ll follow you back.”
“Cause of death was exsanguination just like Rossa’s,” Lina said the next morning as she and Bel conducted Ellery Roja’s autopsy. Olivia was, once again, conveniently absent. She’d declined to attend the exam in favor of tracking down Gwen Rossa’s final movements. Roja had returned to the bed-and-breakfast the night before she died, leaving at midnight to walk to the mini-mart alone, but Rossa’s last hours were still unaccounted for. Splitting up to tackle the mountain of work was smart when the department was spread so thin, but her partner’s absence was eating Bel alive. Was this how it would be for the rest of their careers? Was her best friend destined to become a stranger?
“Roja has no defensive wounds on her arms, and her feet aren’t badly damaged,” Lina continued, oblivious to Bel’s distress. “It’s identical to Rossa’s body.”
“No sexual assault?” Bel asked.
“No sexual activity at all,” Lina answered. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t expecting to hook up with someone, though.”
“I don’t know,” Bel said. “She was seen ata twenty-four-hour mini-mart buying chipsin the middle of the night before she went missing.That doesn’t screamtorrid affairto me.”
“The killer could be tailoring the way he lures them into the woods to each victim,” Lina said as she leaned over Roja’s butchered abdomen. “But Rossa wasn’t drugged, so I suspect neither was Roja. The lack of defensive wounds suggests both women knew their killer, or at least trusted him enough to go willingly.”
“Or he threatened them from the start,” Bel said. “Aim a gun at a woman walking alone in the dark, and she’d probably obey. If Orion Chayce is the perpetrator, both Rossa and Roja were aware he’d been sent to prison for manslaughter. I doubt they would’ve gone with him willingly.”
“Either way, their end was horrible,” Lina said. “I can’t even imagine being chased through the snowy woods in nothing but a cloak…” she trailed off as she remembered who she was talking to. “I’m so sorry, Bel.”
“At least I made it out of the trees alive. I got away.”
“And thank God for that. It’s bad enough examining strange women on my table. Seeing you was hell.”
“Was the likeness really that close?”
“It was exact,” Lina said. “It even fooled your father. The only one who noticed was Mr. Stone, but that makes sense. You’re a couple. I don’t want to assume anything, but he’s probably seena lotmore of you than we have. The body’s lower half was ripped apart, much like this woman’s. That surgeon saw you on vacation in a bathing suit, but he didn’t see everything, so he wasobviouslytrying to conceal what he couldn’t recreate. Thank god Mr. Stone spotted the discrepancies. But the time the doctor must’ve spent altering your doppelg?nger. He must have been planningon taking you eversince he met you at Wendy Darling’s wedding. How else did he find time to perform all those surgeries on Jane Doe?”
“He must have,”Bel lied. Lina was oblivious to the evil that roamed the earth, and she had no intention of enlightening her. She already had one friend and coworker angry at her. She didn’t need another. “And yes, Eamon said the body wasn’t right,” she half lied this time. There was something wrong with Jane Doe, just not the appearance. It was her blood. “We’d just returned from a tropical and romantic vacation. He knows what I look like.”
“Thank goodness. I’ll never forget what that man sounded like before he realized Jane Doe wasn’t you. His cries still give me nightmares. He didn’t sound human.”
Bel froze at her comment.
“And neither is this.” Lina leaned down to examine the severed flesh. “This is different.” She used tweezers to pluck something from the wound and held itupto the light. “It’s fur.”
“Fur?” Bel shifted closer, but the M.E. was right. It was a long strand of fur.
“There’s not a lot, butthere’sfur stuck in the wounds,” Lina said. “I can’t tell if it’s animal or synthetic until I run some tests, though. Wounds that look like claws inflicted them and then fur trapped in the blood.” She met Bel’s gaze. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say a creature from Aesop’s Files came to life and killed Ellery Roja.”
“Hey, Violet, is Ewan here?” Bel asked as she entered Lumen’s Customs.
“Yeah,” her friend answered. “In the workshop.”
“Thanks.” Bel stormed out of the office to find the studio’s new furniture designer. The minute she spotted him, she grabbed his biceps and hauled his formidable mass into the back room.
“Is everything okay?” he asked when they were far from Violet’s ears. “Is it Olivia?”
“I hate to ask you this, but I have to,” Bel hissed. “Did you kill those girls in the woods?”
“What?” Ewan reared away from her, but she held his arm tight. He was significantly stronger than her, but she belonged to the beast. If he valued his life, which he did, he wouldn’tso much asraise his voice around her.
“Both women were killed with claw-like weapons, and the latest victim had fur stuck in her wounds… like that of a bear’s. You killed someone in the woods before, so I’ll ask you again, did you murder those women?”
“Absolutelynot, and I can’t believe you would ask me that,” Ewan hissed. “You know full well I killed that hunter because he was trying to wipe out my entire pack. It was self-defenseofboth me and my family. I don’t kill innocent people, and I’m not a monster despite what Olivia thinks.”
“I had to ask,” she said.
“And would you feel the same urge if it was your beloved millionaire?” he spat. She could tell her suspicion wounded him, butbetter damagedpride than more dead women. She didn’t believe he was a cold-blooded murderer, but he’d killed for a good reason before. The presence of claw marks and fur had her wondering if he had reason again.
“I was always the first person to assume his guilt,” Bel said. “Not even he’s allowed to get away with murder in my town, so I had to ask. The deaths remind me so much of your bear, and you were the one to find Ellery Roja.”
“I can’t believe you think I could do that,” Ewan growled as he leaned forward until he was at eye level with her. “I’m not a monster, and if you believe I could do something that heinous, you’re not the woman I believed you were.”
“Well, you’re the man who lied to my best friend and made her hate me,” Bel said, not backing down. “And I’ve experienced the repercussions of mistakenly assuming someone was harmless.”
“I know. I was there alongside Eamon, searching for you. I saw the accident where you supposedly died, and I held Olivia as she sobbed. You’ve faced unspeakable darkness, but I’m not it. I’m trying to win Olivia back. Do you think murdering women would help my cause?”
“No,” Bel conceded. “It wouldn’t. Could there be another shifter in town?”
“I don’t know,” Ewan said. “New people flood Bajkaevery day, and I keep detecting inhuman scents. Nothing crazy, just your garden variety supernaturals, which is to be expected with this kind of show, so it’s possible. Eamon would be the bettermanto ask since his senses are superior to mine.”
“So you haven’t encountered other bears?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve detected.”
“I’m sorry, Ewan.” She finally released his arm. “I am, but life has been chaos lately. Every time I step into the cold, I’m back on that mountain being shot at by Blaubart. Olivia won’t talk to me. I just learned the truth about Eamon’s past. And now women are being ripped apart on my boyfriend’s property. So, I apologize for not behaving with more decorum, but I needed to prove it wasn’t you. To look you in the eyes and see your breakup hasn’t driven you mad.”
“Oh, it’s driving me mad, but not to murder,” Ewan said. “And have you ever stopped to consider the fur wasn’t an accident?”
“What do you mean?” Bel asked.
“A paranormal detective drama where creatures of all kinds live among humans comes to our town, and suddenly women start dying in theatrical ways with supernatural undertones. Now there’s animal fur stuck in a victim’s wounds. It seems alarmingly like an episode of Aesop’s Files. We’re living the show, and what if that’s what the killer wants? Clues, oddities, riddles. Girls in red, dead in the snow, clawed apart by a monster. What if this isn’t a supernatural killing at all? Have you considered that? What if the killer’s playing too close to the show, and everything you’ve found is merely part of the act?”