Chapter 17
“Oh my god!” Violet was a tornado of emotions as she burst through the cabin’s front door. She kicked off her heels, still wearing the towering stilettos despite the snow, and shoved the overflowing grocery bags on the table before launching herself at the couch. She landed gently on top of the reclining Bel and started sobbing as she hugged her friend.
“When I learned about the accident, I got the most horrible déjà vu,” she cried. “I almost threw up…. How is she?” She glanced over her shoulder to where Eamon stood watching them from the kitchen.
“Surprisingly okay, considering she survived a choking and a car crash,” he answered. “The snow’s so deep, it cushioned the car’s impact, so she escaped without any broken bones or stitches. She’s banged up, and her throat will hurt for a while, but she’s all right.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Violet lay back down on Bel, and the detective chuckled despite the pain.
“What’s with the groceries?” she whispered in a voice almost as rough as Eamon’s.
“After I heard about the crash, I had a full-blown panic attack and had to sit on my kitchen floor. I never sit on the floor. My cats were freaked out, but my brain kept replaying that news report about your faked death. Thankfully, Eamon found your phone, and he answered when I called you.” Violet shifted on top of her, and Bel couldn’t figure out what her friend was doing until a palm pressed against her chest. She was searching for a heartbeat, and that simple touch broke Bel’s heart.
“He told me you were at the hospital, but they expected you to come home tonight,” Violet continued. “I asked if you needed anything, and he texted me a grocery list for soup.”
“I have soup in the pantry,” Bel whispered. With her ears so close to her mouth, Violet could hear her low words, and Eamon’s senses could pick up even her faintest sounds. It was an inconvenience when she muttered under her breath in annoyance at him, but it came in handy now since speaking set her throat on fire.
“I’m not feeding you canned soup,” Eamon said as he dug through the groceries. He hadn’t relaxed until they arrived at her cabin, but his muscles still hadn’t fully released their tension. Much like Violet, the accident had resurrected his crippling despair and anxiety. He was trying to hide it, and to anyone else, he seemed unbothered, but Bel knew him. He was fighting not to fall apart, and now that she was safe on her couch, she felt horrible about crashing the car. In the heat of the moment, it was all she could think to do, and while Eamon and Griffin agreed her actions were the reason she and Taron were alive, the scene sliced open the wound Blaubart had inflicted when he faked her death.
“And I wasn’t about to leave you alone, so I asked Violet to shop for me,” he continued.
“It was no trouble. I needed to see you anyway.” Violet finally pulled herself off Bel’s chest and settled beside her on the couch, clutching her hand as Cerberus debated whether to join the women for snuggles or beg Eamon for scraps.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Eamon asked. “I’ll cook the meat in a separate pan.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Violet said. “I just needed to prove Bel is alive.”
Eamon stiffened almost imperceptibly at her words. “It’s no intrusion,” he said. “You bought the groceries. At least stay until the soup is done so I can send you home with a container.”
“You sure?” Violet glanced at Bel, who nodded her agreement. It was comforting to have someone hold her hand while Eamon cooked, plus he needed another person to help him bear the burden. He was struggling after the crash, and having Violet present to watch over his girlfriend while his back was turned clearly brought him comfort.
After Griffin arrested The Wolf, Olivia called with an update on the bomb threat. They’d successfully evacuated the hotel, and a neighboring SWAT team had arrived to take over. They found no evidence of explosives, which proved Eamon’s theory that The Wolf never intended to blow up the building. He merely used the threat to control Taron, and ultimately Bel. The SWAT team still planned to conduct a thorough investigation, but they didn’t expect to find anything. The bomb was a ploy. One everyone fell for.
Griffin had then visited the hospital to get Bel’s statement, knowing she needed an update as badly as he needed to see her exam results. It seemed everyone refused to believe she was alive until they witnessed her breathing themselves. Griffin had gone so far as to press his fingers against her throat when they hugged goodbye so her heartbeat could echo against his skin, and after the doctors discharged her to Eamon’s care, her boyfriend drove the entire way home with his grip wrapped around the pulse in her wrist. They’d opted to stay at her cabin for the night, the familiar setting cozier for her recovery, and he hadn’t left her side since.
Violet remained with Bel as Eamon cooked, the women holding hands as they watched sitcom reruns. Before long, the kitchen turned aromatic, and the trio ate on the couch together. It hurt Bel’s throat to swallow despite the pain pills, but she managed most of her soup. It made both her friend and boyfriend happy that she’d eaten, but the minute the meal hit her stomach, fatigue assumed control of her body. She sagged against Eamon, drifting between consciousness and oblivion, and the last thing she remembered was Violet creeping for the front door in an attempt not to wake her.
A weird grunting shoved through her dreams, and Bel opened her mouth to ask what was making such a peculiar sound so ungodly early, but only a groan escaped her lips, pain igniting her body like a live wire as she rolled onto her side. She breathed through the sharpness, and when her nerves settled, she peeled her eyelids open. Eamon sat at her kitchen table, working on his laptop with one hand while gripping a toy rope in the other. His incredible strength made for an ideal playmate, and Bel realized it was Cerberus’ grunts and growls as he fought an epic game of tug-of-war that woke her. She also realized it wasn’t morning, for the red clock on her microwave read thirteen minutes past noon.
“What happened to my alarm?” she whispered, her voice achingly hoarse, but Eamon heard her despite Cerberus’ piggish grunting.
“I turned it off.” He released the toy, and her dog bolted for the bed, assuming he’d triumphed in the war. He climbed onto the mattress and plopped across her thighs to chew his hard-won prize.
“Why?”
“You need the sleep.” Eamon filled a glass with filtered water and brought it and her painkillers to the bed. “Besides, Griffin made me promise. He swore he’d arrest me if he saw you so much as drive by the station. He’ll call once he has news, so if you can’t go to work, what’s the point of waking you?”
“Thanks.” She popped the painkiller into her mouth and swallowed it, grimacing as the cold water burned her throat.
“How do you feel?” Eamon settled on the mattress beside her.
“Like I was in a car crash and then choked.” She reclined on the pillows as she folded her fingers into his grip. “Oh… what was that pill?”
“Not your painkillers. They’re stronger versions of what I gave you for your hangover. I could barely sleep because you kept groaning… and then your neck. Don’t look at yourself in the mirror if you can help it.”
“It’s that bad?” Bel fingered her throat.
“I can’t bear the sight.” Eamon wrapped both his hands around hers and collapsed forward until their foreheads kissed. “I can’t give you something that’ll heal you. Your throat is too visible, and the sudden absence of bruising would raise questions, but I put in a call to my witch contact. She overnighted these pain pills. They’re significantly stronger than pharmaceuticals, so at least you won’t suffer.”
“I already feel better.” She sighed as she settled deeper into the pillows. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “It was selfish, really. I can barely look at you. I’m a coward, but it’s why I wasn’t facing you in the kitchen. I couldn’t get to you in time, and you almost died.”
“You aren’t a coward.”
“I am.” Self-loathing curled through his menacing voice. “You are the love of my life, yet I can’t look at you.”
“Hey.” Bel tugged her hands free of his grip and cupped his jaw. His self-hatred hurt worse than her bruised ribs and purple throat, and she couldn’t bear the sight of him crumbling before her. He was Eamon Stone, the devil made flesh. He was the strongest person she knew, and nothing terrified her more than watching fear eat his power alive. “You aren’t a coward.” She pulled his lips to hers, kissing him softly until his rigidness thawed. God, how she loved this man. “Don’t do this. Don’t punish yourself.”
“I shouldn’t be this weak,” he argued. “I’ve never been weak before.”
“You’re half human.” She trailed her lips across his cheek. “Weakness defines us. We either live by it or overcome it.”
“You certainly overcome it.”
“Because I’m special like that.” She winked, the absence of pain returning her sense of humor.
“You’re something, that’s for sure.” Eamon rolled his eyes as he pulled her into his arms. “God, I love you. You told Taron that I’m your best friend. Well, Isobel, you’re mine, and your accident is no joking matter, yet here you are teasing me to help me feel better. I rarely smiled until I met you. You know I care, but for the record, you’re my best friend, too.”
“Stop, I don’t want to cry.” She shoved the heels of her palms against his chest, but he wouldn’t let her go, so she surrendered to his embrace, kissing his throat until the tickle drove him to release her.
“I don’t want you to either.” He traced her smile with his thumb, satisfied with himself that his forced hug stopped her tears, but she didn’t miss the way he avoided looking at her neck.
“I must look awful.” She tried to touch her throat again, but he captured her hands and pulled them into his lap.
“I’m glad Miss Monroe was the one to save you, and not me.”
“Why?”
“Because I wouldn’t have hit him with a tree branch like she did. I would’ve ripped his head clean off, which is why I have a gift for you.”
“If you say The Wolf’s head, I’ll puke,” Bel teased, and Eamon rolled his eyes.
“Here.” He handed her a book charm necklace, and her fingers instinctively flew to her throat.
“My necklace.” She lowered her hand from her empty neck and took her jewelry from him. “Did it fall off in the snow?”
“No, I removed it while you slept,” he said. “I called more than one contact last night because while it’s best for everyone involved that I didn’t find that man’s hands around your throat, I won’t ever be too late again.”
“I know.” Bel squeezed his hand. “But what does that have to do with my necklace?”
“You’re not exactly an easy woman to keep track of. I appreciate that you called me after you jumped headfirst into a kidnapper’s vehicle, but phones can be thrown out of windows or destroyed. I lose a scent’s trail when cars are involved, and I can’t read minds. Every time you’ve been taken, your attackers removed your phone, your car, and sometimes even your clothes, but you know what they never took?”
“My necklace.” Bel stared down at the simple book charm. After the cursed Eamon had attacked her in New York City, he’d left this necklace in her hospital room. She hadn’t known who the gift was from then, but at his request, a witch had charmed it to keep her safe. She often wondered if that’s why she’d been unnervingly lucky since her move to Bajka. She always escaped. She always survived.
“They never take your necklace.” Eamon trailed a finger over the chain. “Blaubart would’ve eventually since he’s planned to transform you surgically into his wife, but my point is, he didn’t. Not right away, at least, and that’s all the head start I need. I was tracking your phone yesterday, but when The Wolf threw it into the snow, we thought you’d stopped. If Griffin hadn’t pulled over to check, we would’ve arrived before he choked you. Maybe even before the crash. When it comes to mortal life and death, seconds make the difference, and tracking your phone isn’t enough. So I sent a car for one of my contacts last night. I gave him your necklace, and he took it back to my place to work. He finished it this morning.”
“What did he do?” Bel twisted the charm in her fingers, but it looked the same as it had yesterday.
“He outfitted it with a military-grade tracker,” Eamon said. “It’s not even on the market, so no, you can’t ask how he got it because we’d both be branded enemies of the state. It’s undetectable and doesn’t require a battery source. I’m not sure how it works. All I know is this tracker’s technology is a highly guarded government secret. No matter where you go, as long as you’re wearing this, I’ll find you. And if your necklace is ever removed, I’ll already know where you’re headed, especially because of this.” He flipped the charm over to show her the back of the book. “It’s an invisible panic button. No need for phone calls or clues or breadcrumbs. Just swipe your thumb over it, and it’ll alert me.”
“Can I test it?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Bel brushed her thumb over the panic button, and Eamon’s phone and laptop exploded with a deafening alarm. “Oh my god.” She flinched with a squawk before bursting into a fit of laughter. “There’s no way you’d miss that call for help. I think all of Bajka heard it.”
“I have no intentions of missing it,” Eamon said. “All my devices are linked to your tracker. It’s coded for your fingerprints only, so your skin or a stranger won’t set it off. If you like, I can program the alarm to alert others, like your father or Griffin. I’m the default, but backup is always smart.”
“I agree,” Bel said. “If you’re away for business, Griffin and Dad need it.”
“I’ll give them access. I hope you never have a use for it, but it’s safer than a phone call.”
“This would’ve come in handy yesterday,” Bel said.
“So you like it?”
“Of course. I don’t enjoy being choked… or flipping a car. If this helps you find me faster, I’ll gladly wear it. Will it track me at all times, or just when I hit the panic button?”
“All the time, but it’s no different from tracking your phone.”
“Gotcha, so take it off when I visit my other boyfriends?”
“Exactly.” Eamon chuckled as Bel handed him the necklace.
“I play with this sometimes. What happens if I accidentally trigger the alarm?” She leaned forward so he could fasten the clasp around her neck, loving that her stupid jokes made him laugh.
“I come for you.” Eamon shrugged.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He traced the chain, his fingers dancing over her collarbones. “I’m glad this didn’t freak you out. We’ve talked a lot about how to navigate our relationship and the dangers I present by staying. Calling me was smart, but it’s not enough. We need a faster, more efficient way of communicating when you’re in danger, and yesterday made that painfully obvious. I figured a tracker in your necklace wasn’t invasive. It’s similar to using your phone’s location, and I didn’t want to embed a subdermal tracker before asking.”
“The necklace is smart, but a subdermal tracker? That’s definitely what I’d call invasive,” Bel said.
“So, that’s a hard no?” Eamon raised his eyebrows in a mostly teasing gesture.
“Obviously.” She shoved him, and he good-naturedly faked losing his balance. “I believe The Wolf is human, but he was a very real reminder of the dangers out there… and that I also dive headfirst into trouble. I like this solution. The necklace is blessed by magic and technology, so if I’m ever trapped in some lunatic’s car again, you’ll find me before I have to flip the vehicle. And I can take it off, so it gives me autonomy.”
“To see your other boyfriends,” he teased.
“Exactly.” Bel wrapped her arms around his waist, her head falling against the thundering heart that always brought her peace. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “If Taron hadn’t come back for me… So, yeah. You need to find me faster.”
“I will. I promise.” Eamon kissed her head, but as his lips slipped lower to her mouth, her stomach let out an unladylike growl. “Are you hungry?” he asked as she burst into laughter. “You mostly ate broth last night, so I’ll make you breakfast. Eating will be easier after those pills.”
“Maybe something soft, like hot cereal?” she said. “No oatmeal, though. And some tea.” She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat oatmeal since Abel kidnapped her, but grits always graced her pantry.
“Okay.” He kissed her forehead before venturing into the kitchen. “I’ll work from here today, so I can help you out. I don’t want you doing much.”
“Sounds good, but please face me.”
Her trilling phone drowned out the reply he uttered from inside the pantry, and she snatched it off the bedside table to find Griffin’s name plastered across the screen.
“Emerson,” he said when she answered. “I won’t hurt you by making you talk, but I wanted to call with an update. Just listen because I already warned Mr. Stone what would happen if he let you do any work.”
“So I heard,” she whispered.
“I’ll start with the good news,” Griffin said. “Swat concluded their search. There was no bomb. It was just a plot to force Taron away from you.”
“Thank God.”
“And the rest isn’t exactly bad news, but it’s not what we were hoping for. The Wolf’s legal name is Alaric Randall, and until a few days ago, he worked as a cell phone repair tech. He has no criminal record or relationship with anyone on Aesop’s Files. We ran a handwriting analysis, which is a positive match for the letter Monroe received at the bed-and-breakfast, but the search of his hotel room revealed nothing. He’s either hiding his murder weapons elsewhere, or he’s not the killer. He’s refusing to talk, and we’re still digging into his life, but we learned he attended an event a while back and met Miss Monroe. Despite their interaction and his letters, she didn’t remember him when he came to our town, so he used the threat of a non-existent bomb to lure her outside. He just hadn’t expected you to be crazy enough to launch yourself into the backseat of his car.”
“I said the same thing,” Eamon shouted from the stove, and the sheriff chuckled.
“This is what I get for not having kids,” Griffin said. “The lord saw fit to give me you and your urges to make up for all my years of missed panic attacks.”
“Sorry,” Bel whispered. “But Taron Monroe did not die, so that’s a win.”
“I guess. It’s hard to think things are a win when you’re the price.”
“It’s a win,” Bel said.
“Whatever you say, Emerson,” he chuckled. “All right, I’ll let you go. Please get some sleep. I’ll call if I have another update.”
Griffin didn’t call, so the couple spent a peaceful day together. Bel barely stepped foot off the mattress, and if she pretended her throat wasn’t mottled with black and blue fingerprints, she almost enjoyed the bedrest. She binged one TV show after another, skipping the Aesop’s Files episodes, and Eamon kept his word. He worked with his face turned toward her until he closed his laptop to make dinner. Then he held her in his arms until sleep stole her from him.
“Hey, welcome back,” Officer Rollo said as he passed Bel’s desk the next afternoon. She’d overslept again at Griffin’s insistence. He promised she could return for a few hours of paperwork if she slept without an alarm interrupting her rest, and after another one of the witch’s pills, she felt strong enough to work. Eamon reasoned she needed food first, though, so she hadn’t arrived at the station until well past midday.
“How are you feeling?” Rollo asked, and Bel wanted to cry that it wasn’t Olivia welcoming her back. Granted, Violet was probably behind half of his concern. She’d doubtlessly ordered her new date to keep an eye on her friend.
“Not as bad as yesterday,” she said.
“You are one badass woman,” Rollo chuckled. “Jumping into a car with a kidnapper and then crashing it. I don’t think I’m that brave.”
“Safer for your health and Violet’s sanity,” Bel laughed. This was why she’d donned a turtleneck to hide the gruesome shades of purple. Better the officers’ admiration than their horrified pity.
“True. You worried everyone, though. I was working here in Bajka when the news reported you died in a car crash, so when I heard over the radio that you were in a real one, my stomach dropped.”
“It’s nice to know I work with people who care about me.” Bel smiled at the handsome deputy. Gorgeous and caring with a stable job… yes, Violet was in trouble.
“All right, I got to go. It’s been insane ever since the bomb threat,” Rollo said. “It doesn’t matter that it was proved a lie. Everyone’s using it as clickbait, which is only making things worse.”
“Ugh, I don’t envy you.”
“Milk the desk work, Detective.” He winked at her. “See you later.”
“Bye.” Bel waved as Griffin exited his office and pulled a chair next to hers.
“You okay to be here?” he asked.
“I can sit at a desk just fine… at least until the pain meds wear off.”
“Well, let me know when that happens. How’s your…” he pointed to her throat.
“The color’s worse than it feels.” She tugged on her turtleneck so he could see the fingerprints.
“Good lord.” Griffin pulled her hand away, keeping her fingers tucked in his fist as her sweater bounced back into place. “You should be home.”
“The painkillers are strong,” Bel said. “I can be useful for a few hours.”
“You sure?”
“I am. So, do we have any updates on Alaric Randall?”
“Yeah, and he isn’t our killer.”
“Between his hidden messages, the kidnapping, and attempted murder, I really thought we had our guy.”
“Me too,” Griffin said. “We dug deeper into his life. He works as a cell phone repair technician, and Miss Monroe’s assistant just ID’d him. Right before the letters started, Miss Monroe dropped her phone while they were shooting. The screen shattered, but there was a repair shop down the street. Her assistant ran it over and had a replacement installed, and Randall was her tech. As a fan of the show, he recognized her, so he slipped a tracker below the replaced screen, which is why his letters were always so personal.”
“That’s unnerving,” Bel said. “But jumping from tracking her location and writing letters to choking me to death is a drastic escalation. You mentioned she met him once before, but didn’t remember him. Could that have triggered him that severely?”
“Randall was the middle child of a large family. His grades were high, but his parents couldn’t afford to send him to college after spending so much on his siblings. So he paid for community college himself and became a cell phone tech where he rarely got raises and never received promotions.”
“So, he lived his life in constant mediocrity without recognition from his family, his school, or his job, and then he meets Taron’s assistant,” Bel said. “He’s a fan of Aesop’s Files, and he had this fantasy that if he could connect with her, she’d fall for him. He wrote her letters, assuming she’d enjoy the hidden clues because his delusions confused her with her character. The detective loves the hunt, not Taron, but he became obsessed with his idea of her, so when she didn’t recognize him, he snapped.”
“He’d always been the forgotten one,” Griffin said as he mulled over her words. “Then the woman he’d convinced himself he loved forgets him. It made him desperate, but it didn’t give him a motive for murdering Rossa or Roja. He wanted Taron to fall in love with him. He wasn’t trying to scare her, was he?”
“So, we’re back at square one with the murders.” Bel sagged in her chair. “Two different crimes. Two different perpetrators.”
“And a show that still won’t shut down.”
“Seriously? Even after a bomb threat?”
“It wasn’t a genuine threat, so they don’t see it as an issue.”
“Good God, these people. The bomb wasn’t real, but I have handprints on my throat.” Bel rubbed her temples as she tried to exhale her aggravation. “When the murders stopped, I assumed The Wolf was the killer, but now it seems Orion Chayce is our best bet again. Any word on his whereabouts?”
“Nothing. No one’s seen him… which reminds me, I meant to call his patrol officer. Maybe he has insights into his character that will help us locate him.” Griffin used Bel’s computer to search for the man’s number. Unfortunately, he reached the officer’s voicemail, so he left a message and hung up in defeat. “Can you revisit the evidence and crime scene photos since you’re staying at your desk?” he asked. “Maybe we missed something. Bajka is overrun, but we aren’t a huge town. If Chayce is here, how has he gone undetected for so long?”
“I’ll recheck everything,” Bel said. “I never got out of bed yesterday, so hopefully my rested brain will spot something.”
Her rested brain embarrassingly spotted nothing, and by the time darkness fell, the irritation in her throat had grown violent to match the frustration headache galloping through her skull.
“Griffin.” Bel poked her head into his office. “I’m sore and struggling with fatigue. Would you mind if I?—”
“Go home, please,” he finished for her. “I’m surprised you lasted this long. Anything for me?”
“Nope. I dug into Rossa, Roja, and Chayce’s backgrounds, but nothing jumped out. The women have no connection to him beyond the Aesop’s Files. Then, to play devil’s advocate, I searched for a link between just Rossa and Roja that might point to a killer other than Chayce. Still nothing. This show seems to be their only connection. That and they’re women.”
Griffin cursed. “Well, thanks for double-checking and for helping with the paperwork. That was a huge weight off mine and Gold’s shoulders.”
“No problem. Goodnight.” Bel returned to her desk and grabbed her coat as Olivia walked by her for the first time that day.
“Hey,” Bel said, desperate for her friend to even look at her.
“Hi,” Olivia said, and the softness in her voice gave Bel hope. “How are you feeling?”
“Achy. It’s why I’m going home.”
“I hope you feel better soon.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at her partner. Had almost dying reminded Olivia that they loved each other?
“It was brave what you did,” she blurted before Bel could leave.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Olivia glanced at her desk as if searching for an escape route. “Well, drive safe.”
“Thanks.” Bel didn’t want the conversation to end, but a few kind words were better than nothing. “Have a good night.”
Olivia didn’t answer, but Bel still counted it as a win. It was sad she had to almost die in a car accident again to get her partner to acknowledge her, but if a brush with death brought them back together, the crash was worth it… maybe. At least that’s what she’d tell herself when she woke up sweating after a nightmare. Which thankfully hadn’t happened yet. She knew it was thanks to Eamon sleeping beside her and her magic-laced painkiller high, but the bad dreams were coming. There was a nightmare in her future with fists meant for her throat.
But it was not tonight. Eamon had returned to the Reale Estate to work on the renovations while she’d been at the station, but he promised to return to her cabin afterward. The attack made her crave the security of her own home, and despite being one large room, the cabin fit the trio nicely. In the short term, at least.
Bel pulled into her parking spot. The single light illuminating the living room told her she’d beat Eamon home. She always left that lamp on for Cerberus so he could find his toys and water, but it was dim, meaning her pup was the only one inside. Shoving her key into the door’s lock, she smiled at his welcoming bark, but before she twisted the key, something by her foot caught her eye.
Bel froze, the blood in her veins colder than the wind gnawing at the world. The sky was dark, the yard covered with white snow, but there was no mistaking the red curling around her toes. The killer had been here, and he’d left her another box.