Chapter 18
Bel withdrew her Glock from its holster so fast that she didn’t even realize she’d moved until the black metal reflected the moonlight into her eyes. There was a white box with a red ribbon on her doorstep. Was she the next hooded girl? The forest flanked her cabin. Was she about to be chased into its darkness and gutted?
Bel scanned her yard, gun aimed and safety off. Alcina had tried to kill her in these woods. Blaubart had hunted her through the snow. If the killer expected her to run, he had another thing coming. She would stay and fight. She would make this messy… for both of them because she had no intention of dying tonight. But if Griffin had to find her body, she’d take as much evidence to the grave as she could.
When no one jumped out of the darkness at her, Bel stepped off the front stoop and shifted through the crunching snow. The first two victims had died in the woods. It made sense that the trees behind her home were the next crime scene. The forest was pitch black, the moon playing tricks with its shadows, and Bel wished she had Eamon’s eyes. She couldn’t see anything in the blackness. She heard nothing but the wind rustling the branches, and she reached for her phone when her gaze landed on the garden bench Eamon had installed for her.
“Oh god.” She choked on her words. The killer had been here, but not for her. Not in the way she’d feared, at least. She wasn’t the next red-hooded victim. The show’s producer, Alistair Rot, was, and he was still bleeding. Thick blood pumped from his abdomen. It dripped down his legs to stain the snow, and a crippling fear tightened its hold around Bel’s chest. She didn’t need Lina Thum to predicttimeof death. Alistair Rot had died only minutes before she arrived home, which meant the assailant was probably still here, watching her from the woods, but it was impossible to guess which direction he’d fled. The snow was disheveled from Cerberus’ playtimes and long walks, so tightening her grip on her gun, Bel pressed the necklace’s panic button.
Eamon turned off the water and yanked a towel off the hook. He’d started a new project at the rear of the mansion, one he was anxious to complete.That section of his expansive home held the most decay, so when Bel texted she was leaving the station, he wasmore dirtthan man.He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he’d ruin his car if he drove that filthy. Bel would also probably lock him outside if he tried to enter her cabin that disgusting, so he’d opted for a quick shower first. Not bothering to wait for the water to heat, he jumped under the spray, the steam only just starting to fill the bathroom by the time he finished. He toweled off and grabbed his boxer briefs, but before he could slip them on, the air exploded. A violent and desperate alarm ripped through the house, shattering the silence and his sanitywith it. Bel’spanic button.
Shoving his legs into his boxers, he abandoned the rest of his clothes and raced down the stairs and out into the snow. He glanced at his phone, the tracker telling him she’d made it home, so he ignored his car and took off barefoot through the woods. It was a straight shot to her cabin if he cut through the trees, andheleaned into his speed. He pushed his legs to their breaking point, and the closer he drew to her property, the stronger the scent grew. Blood, and a lot of it. Someone had died, and his only consolation was that the blood wasn’t hers.
“Isobel!” He collided with her, wrapping her body protectively in his embrace and dragging her with him as he skidded to a stop in the deep snow.
“My house.” She shook against his chest. “He killed him outside my house. Oh god, Cerberus. Is he okay?”
Bel ripped free of his grip and bolted for the cabin, fingers shaking as she tried to unlock the front door. It took her two tries and then she flung herself inside, catching the very alive pitbull in her arms.
“Oh my god.” She collapsed to the floor with her pup firmly cemented against her chest. “My baby. You’re okay.” She kissed his head over and over before throwing her gaze up at Eamon. “The killer? Is he gone?”
“Yes.” He squatted beside them. There was no evidence to suggest the dog had been in danger, but panic was never reasonable. A fact he’d recently become well acquainted with. “It’s just us and the body.”
“He killed Alistair Rot.” She reached for him, and he wrapped the duo in his arms. “But when I saw the box on the front stoop, I thought I was next.”
Eamon unconsciously tightened his hold on her and her dog.
“He was here. At my house!” she shouted, his chest absorbing her rage. “He murdered a man on that bench you gave me. He wanted me to find Rot still bleeding. He wants us to know we’re chasing our tails. That all our theories are wrong and we won’t catch him, even though he’s right under our noses.”
“I should’ve been here.”
“How could you have known? At least the panic button works… your hair’s still wet.” She reached up and slipped her fingers through his blond locks. “And you’re naked.”
“I told you I would come no matter what.” Eamon leaned into her touch, fully aware that he and Cerberus had that in common. “I managed to pull my boxers up, but that’s because they were already half on. Plus, I don’t love the prospect of fighting someone with everything swinging out in the open.”
Bel smirked, the smile not quite reaching her eyes as she pictured that mentalimage,and he was glad the humiliating scene humored her. He’d say just about anything to erase her fear.
“I have some of your clothes here.” She offered him her hands so he could pull her to her feet. “I can’t believe you ran all this way in the snow naked.” She brushed a hand over his freezing abs before fishing a pair of his sweats from her dresser.
“I don’t feel cold like you,” he said as he slipped them on. “I do feel panic.”
“I’m sorry for using the necklace.” She fished one of his shirts out from her pajama drawer. “I was worried the killer was still here, so I didn’t want the phone distracting me.”
“That’s why I gave it to you. Don’t censor yourself because the minute you do, you’ll start making mistakes. I’d rather show up unnecessarily than not at all.”
“And you’re sure the killer isn’t out there?” she asked.
“All I smelled was blood and your fear,” he said. “But I’ll double-check now that I’m not worried about you.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do. A homicide occurred on my property. I’m a witness, and now that you’re here,I’m safe totake a closer look. I just needed to check on Cerberus first.”
“He’s okay.” Eamon slipped his feet into a pair of sneakers he’d thankfully been too lazy to take home, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders before guiding her back outside. “The killer didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted your attention.”
“He’s taunting us.” She pointed at the box still on her front porch. Neitherof themwore gloves, so they left it alone as they moved for the victim.
“Just like at the station,” Bel continued. “The killer sent me a box, and then we found a second body on your property. Now there’s one on mine. Is he targeting us?”
“I don’t think so,” Eamon said as he observed the scene before them. Alistair Rot sat on the beautiful bench he’d gifted Bel, completely naked save for a red hooded cloak. Just like Rossa and Roja, his abdomen had been eviscerated, his corpse posed in the woods… almost.
“I think the killer wants his victims to be found,” he continued. “So he’s putting them in places we’ll notice. My propertybythe shooting location. On the trails where people hike regularly. In your backyard, which I am furious about, and if I catch him before you, he’ll regret this decision.”
“Eamon…”
“I won’t kill him,” he relented. “But I gave you this bench to prove I care for you. So that you could always look outside and see me, and he violated your home by murdering someone on it.”
“You can build me a new bench.” Bel patted his chest, which reminded him to breathe. “Maybe a second one in your flower garden too.”
“Yeah?” He grabbed her fingers and pinned them over his heart.
“Yeah.” She withdrew her phone with her free hand, the palm plastered against him absentmindedly rubbing his skin as she texted her boss a 911 message. “I need to alert Griffin, but you have time to inspect the scene before everyone arrives.”
“Okay.” He kissed her forehead before turning back to Rot’s body. “And to answer your question, no, I don’t think he’s targeting us directly. These deaths don’t mimic my kills, and neither of us is connected to the show. He’s telling a story, and you represent his perfect audience.Hejustwants the bodies found quickly on properties that won’t shut filming down.”
“If the show goes, so do his victims,” Bel said. “All of them have worked for Aesop’s Files, and we officially have a serial killeron our hands. I thought he was targeting women, but Rot changes the M.O.. A writer, a costume designer, and now the producer. This body’s fresh, so can you smell it for me before we have an audience? Are we dealing with a human or something else?”
Eamon leaned forward and inhaled a deep breath. “Rotdefinitelycame into contact with something unnatural.”
“Can you tell what?” she asked, but sirens lit up the air,putting an end totheir conversation.
“He was still bleeding when you got home?” Lina asked.
“Yes,” Bel confirmed.
“That at least makestimeof death easy to pinpoint,” the medical examiner said.
“Unfortunately, the killer left before I noticed the body,” Bel said as her yard churned with officers. Griffin must have called the entire department because she’d never seen so many people at one crime scene. With this level of chaos, she wondered how long it would take for the news to arrive and brand her cabin a murder house.
“Do you have a security system?” Griffin asked.
“No. The cabin’s a rental, and I’m secluded here,” she answered. “I never expected to need one.”
“Even after Alcina Magus almost killed you here?” The sheriff glared at her with fatherly disapproval, and she gave him a tiny shrug. What could she say? She had a security system, albeit an unconventional one. Her pitbull had proved himself vicious when her life was in danger, and the devil with death-black eyes used to stalk these woods at night before she invited him to sleep in her bed. What were cameras compared to an overprotective Dhampir?
“I can install some for her,” Eamon said.
“Good, but that doesn’t help us now,” her boss said. “Did you see any cars while driving home?”
“Yeah, but none stuck out,” Bel said. “And the snow on my lawn and surrounding trails is destroyed from walking Cerberus. Finding the killer’s tracks will be impossible.”
“How did he know where you live?” Griffin asked. “Have you noticed anyone following you?”
“Just Taron,” Bel said. “She followed me home to warn me about The Wolf’s letters.”
“Bajka is overflowing with people. You can barely walk two feet without a fan shoving a phone in your face,” Eamon said. “Unless they were obnoxious about it, Isobel wouldn’t notice someone stalking her. And killing the show’s producer on a detective’s property seconds before she arrives doesn’t point to someone stupid enough to get caught following a cop.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Griffin placed a comforting hand on Bel’s arm.
“Just freaked out.”
“Me too.” Griffin turned his questioning on Eamon. “You’ve been staying with her. Have you caught anyone hanging around the property? Or maybe innocently jogging by on a morning run?”
“No. There are a few cabins down the road, so we see the neighbors, but most people don’t have a reason to drive this street. Granted, I can’t attest to what happens when we’re at work. If someonewanted to find her house, it wouldn’t be that hard. The actress did it.”
“Until we catch this guy, I don’t want you here alone,” Griffin said.
“Oh, she won’t be,” Eamon answered before she could open her mouth.
“Big surprise here. The box has another puzzle,” Olivia said, joining them before the desecrated bench.
“What kind?” Bel asked.
“Word search.” She held it out.
“I bet What, Big, You, and Have are hiddeninhere.” Bel plucked the solitary paper out with gloved fingers. “So, we’re probably looking for another body part… yup, there’s big… and have.”
“There’s what and you,” Eamon pointed to the short words.
“Nose.” Bel jabbed her blue finger against the four letters. “ What a big nose you have . Lina, can you check his nostrils?”
“Sure thing.” The M.E. grabbed her tweezers and crouched before Rot’s face. “Good god, that’s wedged in there.” It took a few tries, but she finally eased a longroll outof his nostril and dropped it into an evidence bag.
“It looks like a newspaper article.” Bel took it from her and unrolled the coil. It wasindeeda newspaper clipping wrapped in plastic to save it from disintegrating in the snot and blood. “There’s not much information here, though,” she said after scanning the text. “It’s from a few years ago, and it mentions Aesop’s Files’ renewal for another season. Talks about how the show achieved sudden viral success despite its near cancelation.”
“We already know this case revolves around the show, so why leave this in Rot’s nose?” Olivia asked.
“A negative of trees, a weather report, and a news article,” Griffin said. “Why any of them?”
“Why,” Bel whispered. “It’s the why. The trees were where, the weather report’s date was the when, and this show’s renewal is the why. Cryptic?Very, butthat’s because the killer doesn’t want us solving his riddle yet. He’s not done. Two more have to die before he makes his point, and he’s preventing us from arriving at the finale before he can lead us there. That’s why he keeps killing crew members away from the sets, but onpropertieswe’ll find.” She repeated Eamon’s conclusion. “He’s taking us on a journey so we understand why he started this, but his explanations are vague to ensure he finishes.”
“Which fits our Orion Chayce theory,” Griffin said. “He’s getting revenge, and he wants us to know why, but only after he’s done.”
“I’m sure once we figure it out, it’ll be obvious,” Bel said.
“We keep circling back to Chayce, but could it be someone from Bajka?” Olivia chimed in. “Rossa was killed on the Reale Estate, which belongs to Mr. Stone, who’s dating Bel. Granted, that one’s easy to explain since it was close to the shoot. But then Roja was discovered on the hiking trails where Mr. Orso often hikes, and lastly, Rot is in Bel’s backyard. Three locations connected to the police and easily found.”
Bel tried not to flinch at her partner’s use of Ewan and Eamon’s last names. At least she’d called her by her first. She had a point, though. She and Ewan hadn’t broadcast their breakup, so unless the killerwasin their close circle, he would’ve assumed they were still a couple. The first two bodies were found on land associated with their boyfriends. The thirdinBel’s backyard. Was Olivia’s apartment the next site?
“The show has location scouts,” Griffin said. “People whose job requires them to traipse all over, taking pictures and discussing shooting angles. It wouldn’t be hard for them to pinpoint ideal locations. Plus, Taron Monroe found Emerson by simply following her home. Our town is packed with phone-obsessed crime junkies. How difficult would it be for someone to follow us through the throng? We’re so busy trying to protect a show that refuses to shut down that we forget to look over ourownshoulders.”
“Besides, the death on my property was connected to the shoot,” Eamon said. “Traveling to a bathroom would take time, so I guarantee the killer predicted a crew member would wander into the woods to urinate instead of trekking down the trails. As for the second body, it was near a trail. Bajka is crawling with newcomers, and someone is undoubtedly either a hiker or a fitness enthusiast. The cold would’ve preserved Roja until someone ventured up there, so I doubt the killer expected Ewan specifically. Isobel’s cabin is the only one he explicitly targeted.”
“And with her stunt in The Wolf’s car, everyone’s been talking about her,” Griffin said. “Makes sense why the body was posed in her backyard. A little ballsy, though. Killing Rot minutes before Emerson got home.”
“It gets dark early this time of year,” Olivia said. “It’s possibly more about waiting until dark than scaring Bel.She’s been working latebecause of the case.We didn’t release that Randall tried choking her to death to the press. The public doesn’t know she’s still recovering, so the killer probably assumed she’d arrive home long after he left Mr. Rot on this bench.”
“I agree with that assessment,” Lina said. “Rot’s wounds are slightly more haphazard than the women’s. The killer was in a rush.”
“If I’d only been a few minutes earlier,” Bel said. “I would’ve caught him.”
“Thank god you weren’t,” Eamon and Griffin said simultaneously.
“I could’ve stopped this,” Bel argued.
“Or you could be sitting here beside Rot,” Griffin said.
“I have a gun.”
“And it was dark. You didn’t notice anything was amiss until you kicked the box. He could’ve attacked while your back was turned.”
“Give me some credit,” she said. “I did just survive a car crash.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Lina patted her back. “We give you plenty of credit, but that’s why we’re thankful you weren’t here. None of us want you going up against another psycho… again. You’ve gotten lucky, and we don’t want to tempt whatever guardian angel is protecting you. You in my morguewasone time too many. And on that note, let’s load the body. I’ll see either you or Olivia at the autopsy.”
It was well past midnight by the time both the press and police vacated Bel’s bloodstained property. Griffin was the last to leave, but before he climbed into his truck, he grabbed Eamon’s arm.
“I don’t want her staying here. Not tonight at least.” He kept his voice low, but Bel heard him all the same. “Take her home with you.”
Eamon nodded, not that he needed Griffin’s orders. Bel had no intention of sleeping in herownbed until the bloody snow melted from her backyard.
“Would you clean that up?” she asked when they finally retreated inside her cabin to pack her an overnight bag. She didn’t need to gather Cerberus’ things since Eamon’s mansion had morphed into a pet store.
“Won’t forensics need it?” he asked.
“They took what they needed, and the elements have compromised the blood,” she said. “If this were a building, we’d eventually approve a biohazard cleaning crew to sanitize the floor, but since this is my backyard…”
“You want the vampire hybrid to handle your dirty work?” He winked at her.
“Don’t make me sound like I’m in that show.” She aimed a warning finger at him. “But yes. You aren’t exactly squeamish.”
“Neither are you.” He took her bag from her and threw it over his shoulder, playfully nudging her jaw before grabbing Cerberus’ leash. “I’ve heard stories from yourownmouth about some of your autopsies.” He waited for her to exit the cabin, and after locking up, he helped her dog into her car. “But of course, I’ll handle it. Do you want the bench cleaned or replaced?”
“Replaced. Even if you scrub the blood off, I’ll still see him sitting there every time I look out my window.” She collapsed in the passenger side of the SUV. It was her car, but all her adrenaline had been burned away, leaving her empty and sore. She was overdue for her next dose of painkillers, and everything within her longed to curl up and cease to exist.
“Consider it gone.” Eamon backed out of her parking spot and slid his hand onto her thigh as he sped off down the street. Another reason Bel wanted him to drive. They’d get home faster.
“We got interrupted earlier,” she said to keep herself awake. “You scented something. Is the killer like you?”
“I think so, but I can’t be certain. The scent was strong, but he could’ve come into contact with something before his death.”
“Come in contact? How?”
“Ewan and I aren’t the only beings of power in town, remember? But don’t worry.” He squeezed her thigh to keep her from interrupting. “Fantasy conventions draw everything from your garden variety witch to shifters to those in between.”
“How many people with unnatural powers are here?” she asked.
“I can’t give you a number, but it’s enough for me to catch scents of them everywhere. Some I recognize and some I don’t. And before you ask why, my kind survives by hiding. We don’texactlyhave support groups or chat rooms, and everyone hides from me. I mean death for humans and monsters alike, so I haven’t met everythingout there.It’s whyEwan hid in Bajka when that hunter was after his pack. My scent shielded him. But most here are harmless. They enjoy settings like this because they don’t have to hide, and a family of witches taking their kids to meet an actor who plays a werewolf isn’t concerning.”
“Except one of these harmless visitors might be killing people, so it’s become concerning.” Bel straightened in her seat, fully awake now.
“The number of supernaturals who attend events like this almost outnumber mortals. You probably met a lot of shifters you assumed were humans in costume, especially if you worked those big conventions in New York.” Eamon said as he parked before his front door.
“Are you serious?”
“Not people like Ewan. He’s incredibly powerful. It’s why his bear is so massive. He’s an alpha predator, but most shifters are weak imitations of what they used to be because of their decades of interbreeding with humans. Some makeup, and they look like every other cosplaying mortal.”
“So when Olivia freaked out over that kid in a mask, she might’ve had cause?” Bel waited for Eamon to open the door, andthenthe trio climbed the grand staircase to the master bedroom.
“Maybe.”
“But could something powerful be in town? If they can sense you, they know you can scent them. What if they’re hanging on the outskirts so the lesser powers mask them?”
“It’s entirely possible. I had trouble tracking down Ewan when he first moved here because he avoided me and kept to his human form.”
“You didn’t find him until we arrested him.”
“Because his scent was all over somewhere you frequent.” Eamon dropped her bags at the foot of his bed.
“What about me? Have I come into contact with anything?”
“A lot. Especially after you work the signings. So, to answer your question, I can’t tell if someone of power murdered the producer. If only the cast and crew were here, I could give you a definitive answer, but hundreds of conflicting scents are transferring between bodies because everyone’s touching and hugging and crowding and shoving. I can’t be certain. A creature could’ve killed Rot. Or he might have hugged one for a photo or knocked into them while ordering coffee or had a one-night stand with a supernatural. He wasn’t ugly, and he was a rich man. I’m sure plenty of women tried to get him into bed, and that would cause a massive scent transfer.”
“So does that mean…” Bel paused with her pants halfway down her legs.
“It does.” Eamon kissed her cheek before collapsing to the mattress.
“Oh god.” She blushed a deep pink.
“If it makes you feel better, Ialwayssmell like you now, too. Maybe that’s why that young witch fled from me the other day. She realized I was a very taken man.” He leaned forward and captured her waist, pulling her half-clothed body into bed with him. “But it’s a good thing. Every supernatural being you’ve encountered these past weeks knows you belong to someone powerful. Unless they have a death wish, most will give you a wide birth.”
“Except that doesn’t always work. Crazies still come for me… although, most have been human lately,” she said as she wiggled out of her clothes and slid below the sheets. “I guess the shield your scent offers makes up for people smelling who I sleep with.”
“It’s not foolproof, butit’sone more layer of protection,” Eamon wrapped her in his arms. “Especially if this killer is like me or Ewan.”
“It didn’t stop him from killing outside my home, though.”
“But he hasn’t come for you.”
“True.” Bel buried her face in Eamon’s chest as Cerberus circled five times before laying across their legs. “What do I do? This show refuses to halt filming or cancel its events. Something’s off about Aesop’s Files, and if a predator is hunting in this town, what good are the police? They couldn’t help in the Darling case, and Pann was just a mortal with a magic-laced tattoo. Do I let Griffin walk around blind, or do I give him a heads up?”
“That’s up to you,” Eamon said. “He knows there’s something different about me, but he doesn’t care to learn any truth beyond that. If he was notified, though, Ewan and I could help monitor things.”
“But you aren’t God. You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“So, it sounds like you have your answer.”
“Do you have a second?” Bel asked.
“Sure.” Griffin gestured for her to come into his office. “Learn anything new at the autopsy?”
“No.” She collapsed onto the couch. Olivia had graciously attended the morning’s postmortem to let her rest, and the two had exchanged notes by their desks before Bel knocked on herboss’door. “Same cause of death as Rossa and Roja. Same wounds, same red cloak, same box, and no evidence, no fingerprints, no defensive wounds, no fur. This guy is good. He knows what we’re looking for andmakes surewe never find it.”
“Mimicking the cop show a little too closely,” Griffin said. “A lot of shows have consultants. If the killer is Chayce searching for revenge, he had plenty of opportunities to question them.”
“About that,” Bel said. Now was as good a time as any to sound crazy. “You know our theory about a set prop creating the claw wounds?”
“Yeah…” he nodded.
“What if they weren’t?”
Griffin stared at her, his understanding not catching her meaning.
“What if the claws weren’t props?” she repeated. “What if they’re real?”
“Real?” He pinched his eyebrows to ask if she was okay to be back at work, and she had to fight the urge not to cringe.
“Yeah.” The word was painful to speak.
“Um…” He shook his head. “Is that even possible?”
“How do you want me to answer that?” she asked.
“I think you just did.” Griffin cursed as he finally caught her drift, and with a frustrated breath, he leaned back in his chair. “I obviously can’t share this… possibility.”
“No, but I felt uncomfortable leaving you in the dark. And it’s just a ‘what if’ question right now. Eamon said?—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Griffin cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Knowing real claws might be to blame is enough.” He cursed again. “And you know what pisses me off about that? It makes sense. Thenature of the crimes and the lack of evidence. Humans aren’t that clean…” he paused, staring at her as if he remembered something, and Bel knew he was picturing Alcina Magus’ crime scenes. She’d built her victims into furniture, yet she hadn’t left so much as a speck of sawdust behind.
“Anyway, we need to halt production,” he continued. “It’s bad enough that someone is murdering crew members, but if we have some sort of ‘ thing’ after us, that’ll get messy fast.”
“Both Evelyn Pierce and Alistair Rot were adamant about not shutting down, but she might be more receptive now that her partner is dead,” Bel said.
“I hope so.” He grabbed his phone. “And if they refuse, I’ll call the mayor. Maybe he can help our cause.”
But before he could dial, his cell blared to life, startling both of them. “Sheriff Griffin…” he answered on the first ring. “Yes, thank you for calling me back. Let me put you on speaker.” He glanced at Bel and mouthed, “Orion Chayce’s parole officer.”
She nodded, and he tapped the speaker button.
“All right, go ahead.”
“As I was saying, Sheriff, sorry I missed your last call,” the parole officer said. “We’ve had a hectic twenty-four hours. We found Orion Chayce.”
“You did?” Griffin asked, his hopes rising. “Where?”
“In the hospital.”
“The hospital?” Bel and Griffin asked in unison.
“Yes, it was an unfortunate accident,” the officer said. “He didn’t violate his parole. Mr. Chayce was out for a jog when a car hit him. He was running in the park by his residence, so he didn’t think to carry his phone or ID. The driver ran over a nail which popped a tire. He lost control and crashed into Chayce while he was crossing the street. He was rushed to the hospital after hitting his head and suffered severe brain swelling. The doctors put him in a medically induced coma to help reduce the inflammation. We couldn’t find him because they’d listed him as a John Doe. He woke after a few days, but with the brain injury, his recovery has been slow. He didn’t remember who he was until yesterday.”
“And he’s been in the hospital this entire time?” Griffin asked.
“He has.”
“And he’s still there?”
“He is. Now that he’s remembered his name, the doctors believe he’ll go home soon, but they want to keep him for a few more days.”
“I’m glad he recovered.” Griffin shifted to stare at Bel, their only suspect vanishing into nothingness.
“Us too,” the officer said. “And even though I wouldn’t wish an accident like this on anyone, I’m thankful he didn’t violate parole. Chayce is a good man. He’s been working hard since he got out, and I didn’t want to see him go back inside.”
“That’s great,” Griffin said. “Before I go, can I ask one more question?”
“Shoot.”
“What’s your opinion of him? Did Chayce do what he was accused of?”
“It was an accident,” the man said.
“I realize that, but I’m sure you’ve seen the news about our Aesop’s Files case. Chayce’s name has surfaced more than once as well as doubt surrounding his guilt.”
“I’ve heard rumors of doubttoo, but he was found guilty. I’ll never know what happened on set, but Orion Chayce isn’t irresponsible or cruel. It’s why his disappearance was so alarming. He isn’t the type to jeopardize his future.”
Bel and Griffin shared a silent exchange that was more conversation than most could convey with an entire dictionary.
“I see,” the sheriff said. “Thank you for returning my call.”
“No problem. Have a good day.” The man hung up, and both officers sagged in their seats.
“I’m glad the guy’s okay, but that leaves us with nothing,” Bel said. “We’ve ruled out Alaric Randall and Orion Chayce. We have no other suspects.”
“Where do we look now?” Griffin crumbled the junk papers on his desk and launched them into the trash witha littletoo much force.
“It would help us narrow our suspect pool down if fans weren’t flooding our town for these events,” Bel said.
“Or it could take the killer with them if they leave.”
“It wouldn’t. He’s not done. If the killer’s a fan, he’d find a way to stay behind, but now I wonder if he’s a current show employee. We believe the killer is trusted among the cast and crew, andhe’s someone whoknows enough police procedure to keep us guessing. The first victim was the head writer, and theyresearchforensics and law enforcement for the scripts. Multiple police consultants have worked on Aesop’s Files over the years, so I’m sure their writers know far too much about how to stage a clean murder scene. I might have even helped. I was there protecting Taron, but to sell the act, I acted as a consultant. Everyone asked me questions. I thought I was helping, but what if I was feeding the killer all the info that he needed to trick us?”
“With Chayce and Randall eliminated, that’s the next most logical place to start. I’ll have Gold look into the show’s writers and consultants.” Griffin stood and shrugged into his coat. “I’m going to talk to Miss Pierce. I suspect she’ll be more receptive to our request now that our killeris targetingproducers.”
“I can help Olivia.”
“No.” He grabbed his keys and aimed for the door. “This is only your second day back after the accident, and you just found a dead man in your backyard. You’re working from the station.”
“Sheriff—”
“This isn’t up for debate, Emerson. Give me at least one more day before Ihave tostart worrying about you again.” And before she could protest further, he exited his office.
“How did it go?” Bel asked instead of saying hello.
“Better than I expected and worse than I wanted,” Griffin answered through the connection, and she pinned her phone between her shoulder and ear to free up her hands.
“I got the mayor involved, and thankfully the studio listened to reason,” he said. “Evelyn Pierce is to thank for that. Alistair Rot’s death proved she isn’t safe, so they agreed to cancel the fan events.”
“That’s good,” Bel said. “Not that there are many left.”
“No, but it’ll reduce our town’s population. Not everyone will leave, but we’re putting out a request that they do. The fewer people, the more the killer will stand out… I hope.”
“I’m guessing that’s what went better than expected,” she said. “What’s the part that didn’t?”
“They refuse to halt filming,” he said. “Moving locations would require massive reshoots. It would cost them too much, so they’ll stay and finish the episodes.”
“I’m glad I’m not a fan of this show because their behavior would’ve ruined it for me. They’ve had three brutal deaths, and their bottom line is still worth more than their crew’s lives.”
“Let’s just hope the reduced population will help us find the killer before he finishes his five W’s .”
“Speaking of the W’s , I found the full articlethatRot’s nose clue camefrom,” Bel said.“It was published five years ago in an entertainment journal, butit’snothing groundbreaking. Itjustdetailed how Aesop’s Files aired for a few short seasons with abysmal viewership and was on the verge of cancellation when it suddenly became one of the most streamed shows. It did so well that it was renewed instead of being canceled, and here we are with a show so popular, they unconventionally turn their location shoots into conventions.”
“And you still believe that’s the why?” he asked.
“I do. I’m just not sure how it fits,” she answered. “This articleisdated five years ago, so I’d wondered if the weather report was from the same year. The contact lens image is of generic snowy trees. That eliminates the southern states, but that still leaves half the country. Plus, even if something happened five years ago in January that drove someone to kill crew members, that’s thirty-one days and multiple states to search.”
“Are there other articles about the show’s renewal?” Griffin asked.
“Tons.”
“Did you read any?”
“Some, but they all say the same thing. Nothing details what made the show popular.”
“Did you search for January and red cloaks?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “I tried multiple variations, but I didn’t find anything. It was a long shot, anyway. There are an average of twenty thousand reported homicides in the United States every year. Robberies, burglaries, assaults, and violent crimes number in the millions. Trying to uncover what happened in January five years ago—if that’s even the right year—is almost impossible, especially if the riddles aren’t referencing a crime. We won’t find police or news reports about personal issues. I don’t know what to search for, but something about this show’s renewal is worth killing over.”
“Well, keep looking,” Griffin said. “And in the meantime, let’s pray Gold has luck with the writers’ consultants.”