Chapter 21
“Detective, can I talk to you?” Deputy Rollo asked when Bel walked through the station doors later that afternoon.
“Of course.” She gestured for the visibly upset officer to sit at her desk, and she prayed his distress wasn’t bad news about Violet.
“I’m worried it’s my fault the director is dead,” he said, and Bel sank to her chair. That wasn’t the direction she’d expected this conversation to take.
“What do you mean?” she asked, forcing her features to remain neutral.
“I was on patrol at the bed-and-breakfast last night, and I remember your neighbor,” he said. “The inn started serving drinks because the cast and crew were nervous to leave once it got dark, so it’s common for dates to show up. Your neighbor stopped by, and hours later, at around 1:45 a.m., she stumbled out into the cold. She was drunk, and I panicked. I didn’t want an intoxicated woman getting into an accident or freezing to death, so I called her a cab. I stayed by her side until the driver arrived andthenpacked her into the car myself. I thought I was helping, but now I think it was a ploy to keep me from noticing the director’s escape.”
“I swear to god, these people want me to strangle them.” Bel rubbed the exasperation from her face and then reached out to grip his forearm. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault. It was freezing, and you did the right thing by helping my drunk neighbor. I agree it was a distraction, though. Rouge probably snuck out while you kept Chloe from passing out in the parking lot. The cab most likely picked him up down the street.”
“Logically, I know you’re right. It’s not my fault the costume designer left for snacks or that a drunk woman took advantage of my concern to sneak the director out, but I still feel responsible.”
“And two women were murdered on my boyfriend’s property. The producer was killed on mine, and the director down the street from my house,” Bel said. “It’s easy to assume responsibility, but this isn’t on us. We’re cops, not bodyguards. You couldn’t have known she was lying. Besides, my neighbor admitted to being drunk last night, so while she was exaggerating for your benefit, it wasn’t far from the truth.”
“I just feel awful,” Rollo said.
“I know. Me too.” Bel released his arm.
“Hey,” Olivia interrupted them. “We checked the front door’s lock.”
“You’re busy.” The deputy stood. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks, Detective.”
“Of course.” Bel smiled at him, earning a criminally attractive grin in return, and she hated that Olivia and Ewan might never rejoin their friend group. She’d been looking forward to a future of couples’ dates.
“Chloe Rider’s house showed no signs of forced entry.” Olivia sat in Rollo’s vacated seat. “There aren’tevenscratches on the lock to suggest someone picked it.”
“So, she left the door unlocked,” Bel said. “She was drunk and hooking up with her celebrity crush. She admitted locking up was the last thing on her mind.”
“I’m so sick of this case.” Olivia collapsedforward, her elbows digging into her thighs to support her head’s weight, but Bel didn’t move. She didn’t want to jinx this moment of comradery and spook her partner into another stretch of unbearable avoidance.
“We have no evidence, no leads, no suspects, but we finally have a slight change in the M.O.,” Olivia continued. “He opened the sliding glass door to ‘put’ Warren Rouge in the woods, but he killed the director inside and left your neighbor alive. She’s a potential witness, and unlike the snow that washes away everything, Miss Rider’s cabin preserved the scene… butsheleft the door unlocked. She practically invited him in.”
“She didn’t know Rouge was a target,” Bel said. “And we’ve all forgotten things while drunk.”
“I know. It’s just frustrating. Your neighbor could’ve provided us with something worthwhile.”
“If she remembered anything about last night, she’d be dead, too. It’s better this way.”
“I guess. But how does someone butcher four people without leaving so much as a blood trail?”
“The snow,” Bel said. “He probably wiped the blades off by the bodies because the corpses’ heat and pumping blood would hide his mess in the melting snow.”
“That’s why the house is so frustrating.Noelements to degrade the scene, yet we still learned nothing. It’s like our killer is a ghost…” She swallowed as if she could un-speak that word.
“He may have used the tub to clean the weapon,” Bel said. “We should check the sinks.”
“I’ll get on that,” Olivia said. “Not that it’llhelp us find him unless he washed something useful down the drain and it got stuck. You still think there’s one more murder?”
“We need the who,” Bel said.
“What happens if he kills his fifth victim? Does he vanish into the wind, never to kill again? Does he pick a new town and start over? Will he turn himself in and confess?”
“It depends on his motive, I guess. If he’s killing for revenge, he’ll probably stop. If that’s the case, he’ll take care to disappear, though, and we’ll never find him. If his riddles and clues are a ritual, he’ll eventually select another five to sacrifice. As for confessing? He’d have to feel guilty, and I don’t think our killer does. The violence. The premeditation. The theatrics. He isn’t suffering from guilt.”
“So, no option ends well for us.” Olivia sagged in her chair, and Bel had to fight her hands to stop them from reaching out and taking her partner’s. “I realize I’m not part of Aesop’s Files’ cast or crew, but it still makes me nervous to be alone at night. I keep seeing their gutted bodies and imagining what it’s like to die like that. Is that what that hiker we found months ago endured because of Ewan?”
“That hiker was trying to wipe out an entire pack,” Bel said. “That’s different.”
“So you say.”
“Because it’s true,” Bel said. “Ewan loves you, and he’d die before he let anyone hurt you. What’s happening in our town isn’t normal, but he would keep you safe.”
“I’m not getting back together with him.” Olivia stood, signaling the end of the discussion, and Bel clenched her fists so hard, her nails dug into her palms. Olivia had initiated a conversation, and she’d gone and ruined it by bringing up her ex.
“You don’t have to,” Bel said, desperate to make her stay. “But he’d do anything for you.”
“Except tell me the truth,” Olivia said, and it was Bel’s turn to sag deeper into her chair.
“I know you want me to forgive him,” her partner continued. “I don’t understand how you’re okay with this, but at least you knew. You fell in love with Eamon knowing the truth, but what if he’d lied? What if he’d pretended to be normal and only revealed he was a monster after you loved him? Could you love him like that? Would you forgive him, then?”
The Impaler flashed through Bel’s mind, and she had her answer. When he told her about his past, she’d fled the house with her dog, choosing to sit out in the cold rather than be near him while she processed his reality. And she’d been expecting a horrible truth. How would she have reacted if she thought Eamon was human, only to learn that history remembered him as the man who guarded his castle with the corpses of his staked enemies?
“So, you see,” Olivia said, reading Bel’s answer in her eyes. “I can’t forgive him.”
She left, signaling the end of their ceasefire, and Bel rubbed her chest as if the friction could stop the aching. Her partner’s words promised she wouldn’t forgive Ewan, but there was an underlying message to her frustration. She couldn’t forgive any of them, Bel included.
“Olivia, wait!” Bel chased after her partner. She might not forgive them, but Bel would be damned if she let Olivia ignore her. If she intended to hold a grudge, she’d have to do so up close and personal.
“I’m going to stop by the bed-and-breakfast,” Bel continued when she caught up. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
Olivia tried to protest, but Bel strode for the front door and held it open expectantly. At a loss for how to refuse, Olivia caved, and the women climbed into the SUV. It was the first time they’d been in thesamevehicle since Bel’s resurrection. They didn’t talk as they drove, though, but Bel hoped that if she forced Olivia to endure enough awkward moments, her friend might cave and agree to a genuine conversation that didn’t involve her storming off.
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked, jerking Bel out of her thoughts as they pulled into the bed-and-breakfast’s parking lot. The pavement was alive with activity, and she dared to hold her breath. Had the cast and crew finally seen reason? Had they agreed to halt filming and leave town?
“Taron?” Bel rolled down the window as the actress rushed by. “What’s going on?”
“Beau talked to the studio and received their blessing to direct what remains of the episodes,” she said. “We’re heading to the location.”
“You’re shooting today?” Bel had to order her mouth not to gape.
“I know.” Taron hugged her arms around her chest as she sagged in on herself. “Warren’s dead. TV shows always have multiple directors per season, but Warren has directedthe mostAesop’sFiles episodes.His vision is the show, but we’re returning to set as if he’ssimplyout with a cold.I’d refuse, but if I don’t show up, Beau will be pissed. I’d rather not start drama with the guy I’m supposed to be in love with on screen.”
“I get that,” Bel said.
“It feels so wrong,” Taron said. “Plus, I’m freaking out. First Gwen and Ellery are murdered. Then I get kidnapped. Now Alistair and Warren are dead. How many more of us need to die before the studio admits they’re risking our lives?”
“None if I can help it.”
“Beau said you’ll be on set with him as protection. Is that true?”
“He misspoke.”
“Oh.” Taron’s features faltered. “It’s just I feel safer around you.”
“We’ll work something out.” Bel hated the disappointment on the actress’ face. She felt like a parent unable to deny their child, and while Taron was too old to be Bel’s daughter, she was woefully unprepared for the demands of an actual case. She played a convincing cop, but she was no Isobel Emerson.
“Okay, well, I have to go,” Taron said.
“Be safe!” Bel called after her as she parked the car.
“Detectives,” the inn’s owner greeted over the bustle when they walked through the front door. “Are you guys here for my security footage?”
“We are,” Bel confirmed.
“I figured. When I heard about that poor man, I knew you’d be stopping by. Come on, I have the tapes ready for you.” The woman gestured for the detectives to follow her into the office.
Alittle after the 9 p.m. timestamp, Chloe Rider arrived at the inn, and the parking lot stood empty except for the patrol unit until 1:39 a.m. Just as Rollo said, Chloe stumbled out of the bed-and-breakfast, and Bel understood why her theatrics had distracted the handsome deputy. It was freezing last night, and the poor girl tripped down the porch steps to collapse on the sidewalk, her head using a pile of shoveled snow as a pillow. Seconds later, Rollo raced to her side where he spent the next ten minutes keeping her upright. Miss Rider was an exemplary example of what not to do after midnight in the dead of winter, and true to his word, Rollo practically carried her to the cab. He waited for the vehicle to drive off before returning to his squad car, but right before he closed himself inside, his head snapped to attention. For a moment, he didn’t move, and then he slid behind the steering wheel and drove off camera. A few minutes later, the front few feet of the car’s hood inched back into the camera’s sights, where it remained until Rollo’s shift was over,which waswhen Bel ran into him at the station.
“He acted like he heard something,” Olivia said. “Are there any other exits?”
“The back door.” The owner switched the footage on the screen to the rear-facing cameras. “But as you can see, no one used it at 2 a.m. I checked already. That door stayed locked all night.”
“So how did Rouge leave?” Olivia asked.
“Are the windows bolted shut?” Bel asked.
“No,” the elderly woman said. “This is only a three-story inn, so there’s no need to seal them. In the spring, we often open them for a nice breeze.”
“Some of the first-floor windows are out of the cameras’ range,” Bel said. “Rouge could’ve opened one and jumped out.”
“The man was certainly young enough,” the woman said. “Do you think that’s what your officer heard? Mr. Rouge slamming a window behind him?”
“Probably,” Bel said. “Rollo didn’t mention seeing anyone climbing out of the windows, though.”
“He parks almost out of the camera’s reach after he checked the perimeter.” Olivia pointed to his barely visible squad car hovering on the monitor’s edge. “From that corner of the parking lot, you can see most of the building. He was worried he’d missed something.”
“Poor Rollo. He felt so guilty this morning.”
“I understand why, but Rouge should’ve known better than to climb out a window with a killer on the loose,” Olivia said.
“Yes, but pretty girls make men dumb,” the inn’s owner said, and Olivia grunted her agreement.
“Have you noticed anyone hanging around outside?” Belasked,Rollo’s position at the corner of the camera’s view giving her an idea. She suspected the killer was the one who encouraged her neighbor to flirt with Rouge, but unless he knew Chloe Rider, he wouldn’t know where she lived. Maybe Rollo hadn’t heard a window slam.Maybehe heard someone watching from the shadows or another car start as it readied to follow Rouge to Bel’s normally peaceful street.
“Tons,” the woman said. “It’s slowed since the fans left, but it was a madhouse. Lots of girls hoping to make Beau Draven fall in love with them.”
“So it would’ve been easy for someone to stalk the inn,” Olivia said. “Except last night, Rollo almost caught him. He didn’t see anything, otherwise he would’ve told you, but you know who might’ve noticed something? The cab driver.”
Thirty minutes later, the detectives followed the cab company’s manager through the garage to find last night’s driver.
“Yeah, I remember them,” he said when they asked about Chloe.
“Them?” Bel repeated.
“The girl and the show’s director,” the man confirmed. “I was called to the bed-and-breakfast last night around 2 a.m. by a police officer waiting with a drunk woman. He loaded her into my cab, and I remember hoping she wouldn’t throw up in my back seat. So it surprised me when she started acting normal when we got down the street.”
Bel and Olivia shared a glance at his words. Rollo’s guess had been correct. Chloe had been exaggerating her intoxication to distract him.
“Then she asked me to pull over,” the driver continued. “She wasn’t as wasted as she’d led that cop to believe, but she was drunk, and I wasn’t comfortable leaving her out in the cold. Thankfully, she didn’t get out. She just wanted to pick up the directorwho waswaiting around the corner.”
“So after you picked him up, you dropped them off at Miss Rider’s residence, correct?” Bel asked.
“That’s right.”
“Did you make any other stop?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Did you notice anyone following you?”
“No.” His features twisted, and Bel realized there was more to his answer.
“Are you sure?” she pushed.
“No.” He sagged against the cab’s trunk. “Someone could’ve followed us, but I wasn’t paying attention. The minute the director got in my cab, they started going at it. I was no longer worried about her vomiting on my seats but instead about them making a baby right then and there. Those two were very… attracted to each other and seemed to forget I was in the front. If I’d checked my rear-view mirror or looked behind me, I would’ve gotten an eyeful of things not intended for me, so I drove with my gaze forward until they got out of my car. The only good thing about that humiliating experience was the director left a massive tip.”
“So someone could’ve followed you, but you wouldn’t have noticed,” Olivia asked.
“Correct.”
“If someone were following Rouge, they would’ve turned off their lights, anyway,” Bel said.
“That’s true,” the driver said. “I would’ve noticed headlights behind me. It’s pretty dark at 2 a.m.”
“One last question,” Bel said. “When you dropped Miss Rider and Mr. Rouge off at her cabin, did you notice anything odd? Any idling cars? Anyone lurking?”
“Not that I remember. It’s secluded out that way.SorryI can’t be of more help. If I’d known the director was a target, I would’ve paid more attention.”
“Thank you for your time,” Bel said, and after exchanging pleasantries, the detectives left.
“Another unhelpful witness,” Olivia muttered as they climbed into Bel’s SUV. “I’m so frustrated, I could spit. The killer was probably following them, yet he was oblivious.”
“Can you blame him?” Bel turned the key in the ignition and shifted the car into drive. “I wouldn’t look behind me if my passengers were making a baby, as heput it.”
“True,” Olivia said. “But a killer’s picking off crew members, yet no one’s seen anything. None of the victims struggled. Who doesn’t fight back?”
“Driving around in the middle of the night…” A thought popped into Bel’s head, and she slammed on the brakes so hard that their seat belts gagged them as they surged forward. “Who’s someone strangers willingly get into cars with, especially after dark?”
“Cabs,” Olivia said, catching her drift. “People give them their addresses too. A cab driver makes the perfect suspect.”
“It’s certainly worth looking into,” Bel said.
“Right… but what’s his motive?”
“I don’t know.” Bel shrugged as she eased back into a drive. “Why kill regular passengers when you can murder famous ones?”
“Emerson!” Griffin called, leaning out of his office door as Bel returned to her desk. “Can I talk to you?”
Bel dropped her stuff and crossed the station to join her boss.
“You can probably guess what I’m going to say,” he said. “And you won’t like it either, but Evelyn Pierce informed me that filming won’t halt despite Warren Rouge’s death. Beau Draven is taking over as director for the remainder of the shoot.”
“Unbelievable.” Bel collapsed onto his couch, the cushions hissing as they released their air as if they too were pissed at this announcement.
“They want you on set to watch over Mr. Draven,” Griffin continued. “But they hope your presence will protect the rest of the cast and crew.”
“It won’t help them if they insist on sneaking out to hook up with our town’s residence,” Bel muttered. “Why me, though? I’m a homicide detective who’s needed on this case. Deputies are already monitoring the sets and the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Why you?” Griffin scoffed. “Why the officer who threw herself into the back seat of a kidnapper’s car and then crashed it to save Miss Monroe?” He laughed. “I hate dangling you in front of a serial killer, but could Eamon watch over you like he did with Miss Monroe? I don’t want to ask this of him. He isn’t the police, and it’s inappropriate to keep involving a civilian, but he’s the only person besides myself that I trust to protect you.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Bel said. “But the days aren’t dangerous. It’s after midnight. I can’t help the cast or crew if they escape our surveillance after dark. Neither can Eamon.”
“I know. But four people have died on our watch. We can’t let that number become five. Filming is almost done.Wejust have to keep them alive long enough to leave town because if things get worse, I’m afraid the studio will try suing us for negligence.”
“And my protection is the price we must pay to avoid that.”
“I’m sorry, Emerson.” Griffin leaned forward. “Spend time on set. Show everyone we’re taking their safety seriously. Don’t jump into any more cars, and it’ll be an easy assignment for you. We can’t afford to lose you on this case, but we can’t afford to let another crew member die. And the way Mr. Draven is panicking, he believes he’s next.”
“I’ll do it,” Bel said. “Of course, I’ll do it. I just wish it would actually help.”
“Who knows?” Griffin stood and patted her on the back. “The last time you followed an actor around on set, you saved them from a kidnapper. Maybe this time you’ll save them from the killer.”
“Let’s pray we’re so lucky. Although it would be safer for them to halt filming.”
“A fact I’ve repeated until I was blue in the face.”
Bel stood, an idea taking root. “Maybe I can help.”
“What?” Griffin smirked at her. “You gonna let Mr. Stone loose on them?”
“That would be the quickest way,” she laughed, wishing that was an option, but she wasn’t trying to out her boyfriend’s secret to people who made their living filming others.
“I’d pay to see that.” The sheriff escorted her out of his office. “I told them you’ll start tomorrow, so get as much work done today asyou can.”
“I’ll try my best to solve the case before then.”
Griffin gave her a humorous eye roll, and then she dialed the only person besides her ancient evil of a boyfriend whomight be able tohelp her.
“Detective, how are you?” Agent Jameson Barry answered on the second ring, and while they weren’t close, Bel almost sobbed at the sound of his voice. He’d been the first familiar face she’d seen after she helped carry Dr. Charles Blaubart’s wife down that snowing mountain, and she would never forgetthe wayhe hugged her when he found her alive.
“I need your help,” she said as she crossed the station floor to her desk.
“Sure. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered by launching into an explanation of their situation. “They won’t halt filming for the police,” she said in closing. “But they might for the FBI.”
“You want me to shut them down?” Barry asked.
“Can you?”
“None of the murders occurred on set, correct?”
“Correct,” she confirmed.
“Have any accidents happened on the set? Any threats? Have you found any evidence on set or in the production trailers?”
“No.”
“Have any cast or crew members been named a suspect or person of interest?”
“No.”
“So, Aesop’s Files isn’t to blame? It’s Bajka.”
“Basically.”
Barry sighed, and Bel already knew what he was going to say. “The crimes occurred far from the sets and production trailers. They also happen away from the fan events and the cast and crew hotels,” he explained. “The show isn’t the problem. Your town is. You wouldn’t close a coffee shop because its employees died after hours at another location, would you?”
“No,” Bel conceded.
“And you wouldn’t force a bank to halt all business because its tellers were murdered in the woods, would you?”
“No.”
“The same goes for this show,” Barry said. “I don’t see how I can shut filming down because their cast and crew members leave their hotels to grab snacks or hookup with strangers and cross paths with a killer. Nothing happened during production, so they have every right to work. Is it considerate or smart to keep filming? Probably not, but their sets are safe and void of evidence.”
Bel fell forward, her head bouncing off her desk as she groaned.
“What I can do is send an agent to assist with the case,” Barry said, clearly hearing the aggravation in her sigh. “I’m too busy to come, but perhaps an FBI agent’s presence will speed things along.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Bel said. It was asmartidea, but it wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for. She’d hoped Barry would ride into town like a knight in a black sedan, but he was right. The studio valued their bottom line more than their cast and crew, but the act of filming the episodes wasn’t the issue. It was people leaving their hotels when they shouldn’t, and that’s when the studio lost all responsibility. They were liable for what happened on their set, or in their trailers or accommodations. They weren’t responsible for drunk men who snuck out to sleep with strangers who purposely tricked the cops or women who craved chips. That wasn’t the show’s fault. It was Bajka’s for not having safe streets and homes.
“Say the word, and I’ll send someone to help you,” Barry said.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
“Sorry it’s not what you wanted to hear,” he said, his voice more sympathetic than his words.
“It’s okay,” Bel said. “Nothing about this case is what I want.”
Bel pulled into her parking spot and jumped out of her car, the night late and her mood irritable. Maybe she should accept Barry’s offer and let an FBI agent relieve her of this case. She was tired of chasing theories that turned out to be figments of her imagination, and she couldn’t bear hunting evil through the snow. Her fingers were eternally cold, and her exhaustion fought to convince her it would’ve been better if she lost them on the mountain so she wouldn’t have to feel the frost stiffen her joints.
Bel dug her aching fingers into her pocket and pulled out her house keys. She needed to eat and hug her dog before her downward spiral dragged her any further, but beforeshe made it halfway down the walkway, a black luxury SUV burst from the shadows and skidded to a halt behind her car, blocking any vehicular escape. Its rear door shoved openthe instantthe wheels stopped spinning, but Bel had her Glock in her hand before the Italian leather shoe crunched down on the snow.
“There’s no need for that, Detective,” the stranger said as he settled before her, and the already frigid air burned colder in his presence. He was handsome and dressed in a suit that cost more than her car, which was saying a lot since her SUV originally belonged to Eamon. But it was his eyes that stole the breath from her lungs. They were more snake than human.
“I’m simply here to talk.” He raised his hands in surrender, yet somehow, the gesture was a threat. “You’ve been making a lot of…” he paused as if trying to convey his insult diplomatically. “Noise,” he settled on. “Reports of your concern have reached even my ears, and it’s becoming a problem. You want Aesop’s Files to halt filming, but I’m here to tell you that cannot happen. Too much is at stake to approve any delays.”
“And too many lives have been lost,” Bel spat, tightening her grip on the Glock. “Human beings are more important than a TV show, regardless ofitspopularity. This needs to stop before the death toll becomes a burden we’ll never recover from.”
“Humans can be replaced,” the man said, and Bel’s stomach cramped atthe wayhe spoke theword,as if mankind was a swarm of ants that he was contemplating grinding to a pulp below his heel. “New directors and writers can be hired. New designers can be found. Actors can be recast, but if production shuts down, it’ll ruin the season. Ratings cannot be replicated as easily as producers can. I won’t risk our show’s standing.”
“I won’t be bullied by ratings,” Bel said, her hands gripping her gun so tightly that her knuckles strained under the pressure. “I won’t?—”
The stranger lunged forward, shoving his face into hers, and Bel flinched, his aggression almost as forceful as a slap. Gooseflesh pricked her already icy skin, and he had her wrist in his fist before she could even think to pull the trigger.
“Don’t get in my way,” the man whispered, his mouth so close that his breath hit her lips, and tears unconsciously ran down her cheeks. How could she be so stupid? Why had she provoked him? She knew who this was. This was the deal, the reason the show had grown so popular overnight, and he’d traveled to Bajka to collect his debts.
“I have no issue with you, Detective,” he continued, pushing his face closer to hers until his lips practically brushed against her recoiling cheek. “I have no desire to hurt you. I don’t care about your existenceat all, but the moment you stand in my way, you become my problem. I can’t have that, Detective. The show must go on.”
“Get your hands off me,” she demanded, her tears freezing to her cheeks, and as if he understood the danger she was in, Cerberus loosed an earth-shattering growl. She could tell by the rattle of her front door that he was slamming his body against the wood, his violence so profound that even the deal hesitated to toss a wary glance at the cabin.
“Let go of me,” Bel repeated, reaching for her necklace with her free hand, but her movement caught his attention.
“Don’t fight me, Detective.” The man grabbed her wrist, stopping her from pressing the panic button, and despite the defiance in her voice, her tears still came. This stranger had eviscerated four people. She didn’t want to be the fifth.
“If you get in my way, I’ll be compelled to deal with you,” he said over Cerberus’ rage. “I will ruin you. Do you understand me?”
“I know who you are,” Bel whispered, ignoring his question as she forced herself to be brave. “The question is, do you know who you’re threatening?”
The deal threw his head back and laughed, his grip loosening slightly on her wrists, but the second she tried to wiggle free, his fists choked her skin. “Oh, Detective,” he sighed as his laughter dissipated. “I am not afraid of some small-town cop.”
“I’m not the one you should be afraid of,” she growled. “It’s who I belong to that you should be terrified of.”
“Belong to?” He stared at her as if he didn’t understand her words, and then he leaned closer and inhaled.
“I see.” He released her as if she was a live wire. “I apologize, Detective. I didn’t scent it at first, but it seems youdo belong to someone.” He lunged backward until his hand found the door handle. “Youof all peopleshould know there’s more than one way to ruin a life, though. You may be under this force’s protection, but what about your family? What about the friends you love? They don’t belong to your protector.” The deal slid into the car, the darkness swallowing all but his eyes. “Stay out of our way. Getting involved won’t be worth the price.”
He slammed the door without waiting for a response, and the SUV reversed down the street, its blackness disappearing into the night as if it too wasn’t entirely of this world. The moment it vanished into the shadows, Bel raced for her front door, fingers shaking as she tried to unlock it. It took her two tries before it swung wide, and Cerberus leaped into her arms with a desperate cry.
“Oh baby,” Bel choked as she slammed the door behind them and bolted for her car. She didn’t bother grabbing anything but her favorite boy, and throwing his stocky body into the SUV, she slid into the driver’s seat and careened down the road.
Her speed was reckless, too fast for such dark and icy roads, but she couldn’t bring herself to slow down. She pushed the car to its limit, and then she was in Eamon’s gravel driveway, all memory of her trip wiped from her mind.
“Eamon!” she screamed as she practically tumbled from her car. “Eamon!” She and Cerberus bolted for the front door, and the duo exploded into the mansion’s foyer with a resounding bang.
“Isobel?” He rounded the corner, panic etched with excruciating detail into his tense muscles, and Bel flung herself at him. He caught her, and in one fluid motion, he slammed the door behind them. He locked it without breaking his hold on her waist and then retreated into the house until the warmth of his home signaled that she was safe.
“You were right,” she murmured into his chest, her heart beating against her ribs like a caged animal. “Aesop’s Files made a deal with black magic for their success, and he’s collecting his payment here in our town.”
“What happened?” Eamon stilled against her, his body stone below her touch.
“I saw him.” Bel leaned back so he could see the terror in her eyes. “He came for me.”