Chapter 22
“He stopped you from pressing the panic button?” Eamon asked as Bel stole the whiskey from his fist. “He shouldn’t have known it was there.”
“My gun was in my other hand.” She grimaced as she gulped the amber liquid. Eamon bought expensive whiskey, and as much as she lovedthe wayhis voice sounded like the alcohol, she didn’t enjoy the taste. He’d poured her a glass of wine to calm her nerves while she recounted what happened, but the wine wasn’t strong enough. It was one thing to face off with a serial killer. It was another to confront a serial killer in possession of black magic. A witch who possessed the dark arts had the strength to control the likes of Eamon. She hated remembering what that kind of power could do to her.
“So, he didn’t know you were aiming for the necklace?” he asked as he reclaimed his almost empty glass.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “He was probably trying to stop me from shooting him.”
Eamon’s fingers slid through her hair as he pulled her against his chest.
“He had his hands on me, and I could feel the power.” She tried not to cry as she breathed in the fragrance of the laundry detergent woven into his shirt. It was sucha normalscent for someone never meant to walk the earth, and she let the familiarity settle her. “It wasn’t like your power. It was… I don’t know. And the way he cornered me. If Cerberus hadn’t started barking, who knows what I would’ve let happen? I was paralyzed.”
“Black magic isn’t an art to be taken lightly.”
“I know, but I couldn’t get to my necklace.”
“And that was his first mistake.” Eamon released her to check that their dinner wasn’t burning. “His touch left a scent on your skin. I know what he smells like now, and if he ever crosses my path, I’ll kill him for putting his hands on you. But do me a favor. Next time, go for the panic button before the gun.”
“As soon as he scented you, he backed up,” Bel said. “I don’t think he’ll come for me again. My family…” she trailed off. She’d already repeated his threat to Eamon, and she didn’t care to recount the fear for a second time.
“At least he had some sense. But Isobel, listen to me. This deal. It has nothing to do with you, but he’smade it very clear. If you don’t leave it alone, he’ll come for you too. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t do your job, but if the killer isn’t human, then you need to stay out of the show’s business… even if it costs the final victim his life.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I’m serious, Detective.” His towering frame loomed over where she sat at the kitchen island, the gravity of his tone making him impossibly large. “Someone’s metaphorical deal with a devil isn’t your price to pay. You were already the sacrifice needed in my unwanted deal, and you barely escaped with your life. If the crew of this show bargained away their souls for fame, I won’t let you take the fall for them. Swear to me that if it comes down to it, you’ll get out of the deal’s way when he comes to collect. Let the victims sacrifice for theirowndesires.”
“You want me to stand aside while an innocent person is gutted before me?” Bel glared at the man she loved. Did he even know her?
“People who make deals with devils aren’t innocent.” Eamon refused to back down. “Alcina murdered six people just to get to you. Blaubart killed five wives after his deal cost Anne hers. I don’t know what sins this cast and crew have committed, but I can assure you, they deserve to die more than you.”
“I—”
“God, Isobel.” He swore as he slammed his palm on the island’s counter. If Bel were anyone else, she would’ve flinched at the force, and she did slightly, but not in fear. The sound surprised her, but not his aggression. Most wouldn’t understand his true meaning, but she did. He loved her, and he was fighting for his humanity to remain in control.
“Just let me be selfish,” he continued, seizing her facein his hands. “You want me to stay in Bajka with you and never leave? Then listen when I tell you to get out of the way. You can fight me about anything you like, but do not fight me on this because when it comes to your survival, I don’t care who else dies in this world.”
“Eamon…”
“No. I don’t care who dies as long as it isn’t you,” he cut her off. “I’ll kill them myself if it saves you. Even the innocent. Let that sink in. You fight for innocence, but I would murder them in a heartbeat to keep you alive. To stay in your good graces, I would rather not, though. So please, if the deal is the one killing these crew members, and he threatens you with dark magic, step aside and let him have his final payment. Let the guilty pay because a TV show isn’t worthsomuch as a single drop of your blood.”
“Are you done?” Bel smiled as she slid her hands up his chest. She shouldn’t smile. The man was terrifying as he hovered over her, and she didn’t doubt his oath. He would kill even the innocent if it bought her survival, but she couldn’t stop the girlish grin from curving her lips.
“Yes…” He squinted down at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“I’m being serious, Isobel.” He looked like he might blow steam out of his ears.
“I know. You’re just so intense.” She slid her fingers up his neck to brush over his clenched jaw. “Youreallylove me, don’t you?”
“Of course, I love you.” He gawked at her as if she was dense. “You’re all I love… well, the dogtoo, but he’sbasically part of you. I like your family and friends, but you and Cerberus are my entire world.” He lowered his forehead to hers, unconsciously inhaling her scent as their skin collided.
“I do want you to stay,” she whispered, their mouths so close, her words feathered his lips like a kiss. “So, I promise. If the deal comes for his final victim, I’ll step out of the way. I’ll do everythingin my powerto stop him first, though.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Eamon leaned closer until his mouth pressed against hers. Bel surged forward, kissing him deeply as she hugged his neck, and he pulled her off her chair to deposit her on the counter.
“I shouldn’t like it when you get aggressive about my safety.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, the alcohol and fearandhis intense devotion winding through her like a haze of drugs. “But I’m learning your tells, and when you’re cranky, it’s your way of saying I love you.”
“I’m not cranky,” Eamon growled against her mouth as he yanked her further against his chest.
“You are,” Bel teased, her fear from her earlier encounter evaporating as he held her against his thundering heart. Let that suited man come for her now. He’d learn what it meant to pay the price.
“Quiet.” Eamon gripped her hair and pulled her head back, stealing her moans like a man possessed.
“Cranky,” she whispered, sliding her hands below his shirt, but as her fingertips traced the contours of his muscles, she jerked backward. “What’s burning?”
Eamon cursed, leaping away from her to shove the pot off the stove, and Bel burst into laughter.
“How did I smell that before you?”
“You were distracting me.” He ran his hand through his hair, his features still dazed by their kiss. “I was trying to have a serious conversation, but then you laughed at me and pressed your perfect body all over mine, and all rational thought went…” He made a throwing gesture at the kitchen window.
“I wasn’t laughing at you.” Bel hopped off the counter to help him salvage their meal. “I was terrified earlier. That man restrained both my wrists. I couldn’t shoot. I couldn’t call you. Then I get here, and you’re not known for keepingyour cool when it involves me. It would scare other people, but your intensity betrays how much you love me. I don’t know what it says about me, but I find it unreasonably attractive.”
“What a pair we are.” Eamon wrapped his arm around her neck and fake pinned her against his chest like they were wrestling teenagers, and she played along, shoving him until he finally let go. “But before all my whiskey goes to your head, swear to me you’ll stay safe. If I can’t get to you, step out of the way because your death won’t stop the deal. He’ll still need to sacrifice his last victim. Don’t die in vain.”
“I won’t,” Bel promised. “I’ll be stubborn about it, but I won’t.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve already proven you enjoy keeping me in a constant state of cardiac arrest.” Eamon kissed her scars before grabbing a new pan to start dinner over. “But I like a girl who can hold her own against me. I sometimes worry my strength will hurt those around me, but you? Not so much.”
“Cause you’re afraid of me?” She winked.
“Yup,” he said so fast that she couldn’t help but laugh at the seriousness in his tone.
“Good, Mr. Stone. You should be afraid of me.” She pinched his waist hard, wondering if she would ever make him flinch, but he caught her wrist and yanked her into his arms. Her laughter doubled at the playfulness, and while the teasing seemed wrong after what occurred on her front lawn, it was exactly what she needed. Eamon was her best friend. He was the man who made her laugh. The man who kept her safe, who made her strong, who loved her so violently that he’d willingly become a monster to keep her breathing. This was where she belonged. Botheringthe Beast of Bajka until he smiled.
“The deal isn’t here, so you should be fine,” Eamon said after sweeping the set. He couldn’t afford to abandon his work any more than he already had, but he agreed to stop by and examine the sets every morning before filming. Aesop’s Files was shooting at the Bajka Library for the next few days, so the locked building would be easy for the deputies to defend from the straggler fans without him. Bel wasn’t worried, though. Death reared its gluttonous head only at night, so her presence was more performance than practical.
“Thank you.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers. “But no one’s going to attack Mr. Draven in front of dozens of crew members and cops.” She gestured to the swarming library.
“Call me if you need me for anything.” Eamon scanned the crowd, and finding no one watching, he stole a kiss.
“I will.” She cupped his cheek as he trailed a finger over her necklace. “I love you, Mr. Stone.”
“Thank God for that… your phone is vibrating.” He tapped her pocket andthen hewas gone, a ghost who’d never existed.
“Bel,” Olivia said when she answered the call. “I just left the morgue.”
“And?”
“What do you think?”
“Death by exsanguination. No evidence.Nodefensive wounds. No fingerprints,” Bel said.
“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner,” Olivia groaned. “I don’t understand. That much blood and none of it splattered onto the killer. How did he not track it around the house? He could’ve used the snow to wash up in the woods, and the bleeding body would’ve covered his mess. But inside? Plus, Rouge was sleeping next to your neighbor. How is there no evidence? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me? Is something in our town?”
Bel froze, unsure how much she should reveal, and that was all the answer her partner needed.
“Great,” Olivia said. “So, you’re lying to me again.”
“We aren’t certain of anything,” she protested. “They’re just theories.”
“Theories that you don’t think I’m entitled to.”
“Olivia…”
“It’s fine. Whatever. I’m going to look into your cab driver idea. It’s a decent theory.”
“It is.” Bel sagged against the wall. They’d been making progress, but this omission had murdered it.
“I’ll keep you updated.” Olivia hung up before Bel could answer, and she shoved her phone into her pocket to rub her face. If she rubbed hard enough, perhaps she’d wake up and learn this chaos and turmoil had been nothing but a nightmare.
“Detective?” Taron’s voice slipped through Bel’s fingers. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Bel peeled herself off the wall. “It’s just been a long month.”
“You can say that again. But we’re almost done here… will the deaths stop when we leave town?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” Taron pushed.
“He won’t stop until he completes his mission,” Bel answered. She liked Taron. They were nothing alike, but the actress deserved safety at work.
“Gotcha. Am I in danger?”
“I don’t think so,” Bel said. The show had gotten popular before her addition to the cast. If a deal had been struck, it had been made long before Miss Monroe morphed into a fictional detective. “Nevertheless, I wouldn’t wander alone at night until we catch this killer.”
“My character might be reckless enough to leave after dark. You’redefinitelybrave enough to try something like that.” Taron patted her shoulder with a laugh. “But thankfully, I’m no cop.”
“What did you think, Detective?” Beau settled entirely too close to Bel, and she had to grip her thigh to keep from shoving him a few inches back.
“What do I think?” she silently repeated to herself. “That you’re obnoxious and selfish for not shutting down production, and you overcompensate around me because I’m the only woman you’ve met who hasn’t begged you to bed them.”
“It was great,” she said instead. “I love this library. It’ll make a beautiful scene.”
“Me too.” Beau shifted closer, and she regretted telling Eamon she wouldn’t need him. She could use a protective boyfriend at the moment.
“I bet it’s pretty exciting for you to be here on set,” he continued. “Small town like this. Not much ever happens.”
Bel forced her features to remain neutral. Not much ever happens? It seemed that finding over forty women in a freezer and being shot at by their murderer was nothing to write home about. Plus, she and Eamon weren’t exactly subtle. How had Beau missed the obvious signs that she wasn’t on the market?
“I used to work for the NYPD,” she said instead. “I’m also workingthiscase. I’ve seen enough for a lifetime.”
“NYPD?” he repeated. “That’s sexy.”
Bel wondered if it would be inappropriate to smack him upside the head.Maybe she shouldjustpress her necklace’s panic button.
“My father was the chief of police.” She stared pointedly at the actor. Other women might kill to be in her shoes, but she was too frustrated with this case and her aching feet to be swept up by Hollywood’s favorite boyfriend.
“We should add that backstory to Taron’s character,” he said. “Make her father her inspiration. Good idea.” He shifted to face her. “Are you hungry? How about you and I?—”
“Reds,” a writer interrupted before he finished asking her out. “Can I run tomorrow’s scenes by you? They don’t work anymore because of the changes we made today.”
“Sure, give me a second.” Beau returned his attention to her.
“Reds?” Bel asked before he could resume his line of questioning.
“It’s a nickname,” he said. “Well, not exactly. It was my birth name, but Reds doesn’t scream movie star. I changed it to Draven, but the nickname stuck.”
“Reds.” Bel nodded, not entirely sure why that felt significant.
“Yeah, so anyway. Since we both have to eat, and you’re here for my protection, we should?—”
“Hey, I wasn’t sure how late you’d be, so I figured I’d stop by to ask if you were coming home for dinner or if I should eat on my own?” a calculated voice asked, cutting Beau off as a massive hand slid against her spine.
“We’re done here, right, Mr. Draven?” Bel said, loving how his eyes almost popped out of their sockets atthe sight of Eamon suddenly hovering over him. It seemed Mr. Stone was better at hiding in the shadows than she’d realized. She hadn’t even noticed him enter the library.
“Filming?” he asked. “For today, yes.”
“Then I’ll be home for dinner unless Griffin needs me,” she answered Eamon’s deliberate question. “I just have to escort Mr. Draven to thebed-and-breakfastfirst.”
“Excellent.” Eamon didn’t kiss her, but by the look in his eyes, he should’ve. It would’ve been less erotic if he’d just pressed his lips to hers, and Bel gave up trying to hide her blush.Seemedshe didn’t need to press her panic button. Eamon had arrived to stake his claim, and he’d done so without a puffed chest or aggression.He’dsimplyasked about food, and everyone present knew who she belonged to.Or should she say who he belonged to because the adoration in his death-black eyes swore his allegiance to her?
“I’ll wait for you to discuss the script, and then I’ll escort you to the inn,” Bel said, and with a nod, Beau retreated, clearly not interested in going toe to toe with a man who, unlike the characters in this show, could beat him in a fight.
“What are you doing here?” She asked as the actor joined the writer across the library. “I thought you had to work.”
“And leave you alone with Beau Draven?” Eamon said. “I’m not that stupid.”
Bel rolled her eyes.
“No, I stopped by the hardware store, so I was down the street,” Eamon explained as he took her hand and pulled her toward the front door. “I’m trying to restore the dumbwaiter I found.”
“You found a dumbwaiter?”
“Of course I did. All old estates had them.”
“Please say it’s salvageable because I need to live in a house with one.”
“Live?” Eamon’s eyes brightened until his black irises looked almost grey.
“Yeah, yeah.” Bel waved a dismissive hand. “Can you fix it?”
“I’m trying. I was working on it between calls and realized I was missing parts. It’s late, and since Cerberus is at my place, I wanted to checkon your plans. Glad I did.” He winked at her. “If I hadn’t, I might have lost you to another man.”
“You ruined my shot.” She shook her head in mock disappointment.
“Oh well.” Eamon unlocked his truck and slipped into the driver’s seat. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
“Oh, the horror.” Bel leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. “But seriously, perfect timing. Thanks.”
“Always, Detective.” He brushed her hair back, and his expression from earlier returned. How was it possible to hold so much love in soulless black eyes?
“I’ll stay at your house since you have the baby,” she said, cupping his jaw in her hands, and over his shoulder, she noticed Rollo jump out of his idling patrol car at the edge of the set’s perimeter to slide into Violet’s vehicle. Unlike Eamon, who’d greeted her with a palm to the back, Rollo greeted Violet with a kiss most couples saved for the bedroom.
“Remember when we were young and in love like that?” she teased, and Eamon glanced over his shoulder to see what she meant.
“I guess we were that cute once.” He played along. “Too bad our honeymoon stage is over, and we never kiss like that.”
“Go home, and I’ll kiss you like that later.” She shut the door on him, smirking at his expression while trying to ignore Violet and Rollo across the street. She was glad her friend had found someone, but she didn’t want to watch her find him so publicly. If only Olivia and Ewan could mend their fences. It would bring Bel much-needed joy to see all three of them happily in love. Unfortunately, she kept putting her foot in her mouth, and she feared reconciliation wasn’t in their cards.
“Do you have a minute?” Olivia asked when Bel answered the phone.
“Sure.” She grabbed her coffee from the craft service table and moved to the rear of the library. Eamon had returned with her to set that morning, a little too smug with himself when Beau Draven avoided him, but as they suspected, nothing dangerous hid within the walls. So he’d left Bel with little to do savewatchMr. Draven enthusiastically enjoy the benefits of Warren Rouge’s death.
“I looked into the cab company,” Olivia said, and Bel was thankful she’d called instead of passing information through Griffin. Perhaps their relationship wasn’t as hopeless as she feared.
“That theory is dead in the water,” she continued. “The cast and crew have cars or personal drivers, so the only record of anyone using the service was Warren Rouge when he was with your neighbor.Obviously,they could’ve driven the victims without logging the trip, but there are no records of Rossa, Roja, or Rot ever taking a cab.
“The driver’s alibis are all over the place, too. Some have alibis for all the murders. Others only have provable alibis for some, but they alternate. Driver A has an alibi for murder one and two, while driver B has an alibi for one and three, and so on. Unless they’re all in on it andtookturns killing, no driver sticks out. None of them fit the profile, either. Most drive around all day and have the physique to prove it. I don’t see them chasing people through the woods to slash them to death. Plus, what’s their motive? And where’s the evidence? The owner let me examine the cabs. If you violently murder four people, you’re bound to leave behind trace evidence, but the taxis I examined were filthy, not bloody.”
“It was a long shot anyway,” Bel said.
“Cab drivers make the perfect killer,” Olivia said. “Peopleget intotheir cars willingly, especially when it’s cold and dark, and they never pay attention to who’s in the front seat. I just don’t think Bajka’s drivers are to blame because why would they leave clues about January or the show’s renewal… is the killer doing this to make us chase our tails?” she asked, and Bel practically saw her eyes blinking with the sudden idea. “We’ve been so focused on why he’s targeting the crew, and his riddles reinforce our suspicions, but what if that’s the point? What if this is all one big misdirect so we don’t figure out his plan?”
“Anything’s possible,” Bel conceded. “I think the clues mean something, but there’s a chance they don’t. The national news is painting us as idiots, so maybe that’s his intention. We’re hunting the wrong clues.”
“I’m headed back to the station to look into the victim’s pasts,” Olivia said. “We’ve been so focused on Aesop’s Files thatwe might have missed something. Perhaps these four weren’t the actual targets. Some killers attack multiple victims to hide their true purpose.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Bel said, even though it wouldn’t produce the answers her partnerhopedfor. She knew in her gut that the suited businessman who cornered her was involved. She had nothing tangible other than her memory of his threats, but they wouldn’t hold up in court… if the legal system could even contain a man like that. Eamon was their best hope at stopping the bloodshed, but she still needed proof. Without evidence to convince the public, the fans and lawyers of Aesop’s Files would crucify Bajka. It wassmartthat Olivia was thinking outside the box. Maybe she’d stumble on something they could use against the deal.
“I’ll keep you updated,” Olivia said.
“Thanks.” Bel hung up and waved at Griffin, who’d just slipped into the library.
“Figured I’dcheck on you,” he said when he joined her. “How’s it going?”
“There’s no reason for me to be here,” she said. “The killer won’t attack with this many witnesses present.”
“No, but the killer might be watching.”
“I considered that, but only the cast, crew, and police are here. Someone on set could be the guilty party, but they’re impossible to detect when everyone’s supposed to be here. We’re all watching Mr. Draven at this point.”
“Is there anyone purposely not observing him?”
“I thought of that, but no.” She grabbed her boss’s arm and pulled him deeper into the shelves so no one could read their lips. “What if we baited the killer?”
“Excuse me?”
“He’stoosmart to get caught stalking his next victim,” Bel said. “He’s been exceedingly patient, biding his time over the past month until he cornered his victims alone. He won’t break that pattern now and kill in broad daylight.”
“But he could be growing desperate,” Griffin said. “Aesop’s File’s time here is coming to a rapid end. If he doesn’t move quickly, his fifth victim will slip beyond his grasp.”
“He has a plan. I’m sure of it. Somehow, he’ll isolate number five, and by then it’ll be too late, so what if we gave him what he wanted? Let’s give him Draven alone in the middle of the night.”
“Like the studio would go for that.”
“Not Draven in the flesh,” Bel said. “There’s enough makeup here to transform humans into monsters. We could utilize it to dress a deputy like Draven and use him to lure the killer out. By the time he realizes he’s been tricked, we’ll have him.”
“Or we’ll get an officer killed.”
“I would offer Eamon’s help, but he’s too big to play the actor.”
“I feel uncomfortable using a civilian as bait, anyway,” Griffin said. “It doesn’t matter that he’s unusual.I can’t do with the lawwhat Iwill.It’s one thing when it might save your life. It’s another when we’re running an operation that I have to file reports on.”
“I just don’t know how else to catch this guy,” Bel said.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” He patted her back as they emerged from the shelves. “Gold has an idea she wants to investigate. Thum is trying to track down the autopsy report thatclippingbelongs to. We might yet find our smoking gun, and if not, I’ll consider your way. For now, keep Draven alive… and yourself,” he added.
“I know, no jumping into kidnapper’s cars.” Bel rolled her eyes. “Trust me, the only danger I’m in here is boredom.”
“Really?” Griffin stared at her as if her neck was sprouting a second head. “I think this is pretty cool. You don’t enjoy the filming process?”
“It’s fine.” She shrugged.
“But you aren’t happy unless you’re giving everyonein your lifea heart attack.” He cradled her head and pulled her in for a forehead kiss. “Well, I like you here. It means I don’t have to worry.”
“But Eamon does.” Bel squeezed her boss’ hand before pulling her vibrating phone out of her jeans pocket. “Draven keeps asking me to eat with him.”
“See.” Griffin’s head fell back as he laughed. “Not happy unless you’re giving us heart attacks.”
“Blame my dad. He raised me.” She tapped on the notification,herteasing falling aside as she read Olivia’s text.
Olivia
Why is Ewan following me?
Bel
I don’t know.
Her partner’s response came so fast thatBel heard her escalating voice through the words on the screen.
I told you I can’t trust him.
And I didn’t tell him to follow you.
“Eamon,” she whispered to herself, the realization hitting as soon as she hit send. He probably warned Ewan about Bel’s late-nightvisitor,and worried that Olivia would receive a similar visit, Mr. Orso was hovering too close.
Well, tell your boyfriend that we’re not getting back together, so he can order Ewan to stop following me.
That’s not why he’s following you.
Then tell him I can take care of myself.
Tell him yourself.
Bel’s phone went silent, and she ground her teeth at the exchange.
“You all right?” Griffin asked as he watched Taron Monroe move across the set as if she were Bel herself. She’dclearly been studying the detective.
“Yeah.” Bel shrugged off the conversation.Despite her hopes, it looked like she and Olivia were destinedtoforeverremain only partners.
“Have you heard from Olivia?” Bel asked her boss when he answered her call. It had been two days since she spoke to her partner, and while she no longer expected them to chat like they used to, she fully expected case updates.
“Yes, she left town this morning.”
“Left town?” Bel repeated. Ewan’s presence had upset her, but she hadn’t predicted it would force her partner to flee. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, sorry,” Griffin said. “She found someone who knew the victims, so she drove out to speak with them. She didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Well, you’ve been busy, and this conversation is a long shot,” he said. “I doubt she’ll get anything from her contact, but there’s no harm in her taking a meeting.”
“We can’t let this become a cold case,” Bel said as she sank to the chair in the corner of Bajka’s quaint vintage thrift store. They’d finished the library shoots and had moved to the thrift store, its eclectic vibe perfect for a fictional vampire, but because filming was running behind schedule, shooting days had grown unbearably long. Bel had barely seen herownbed, and the snow had returned to Bajka. It was already sticking to the roads, and the only upside to the storm threatening to bury the coated town was she wouldn’t get stuck working until after midnight again.
“I know.” Griffin’s tired voice slipped through their phone connection, and Bel hated how he didn’t assure her that wouldn’t happen.Seemedeven the sheriff believed solving these homicides was as much a fantasy as Aesop’s Files.
“Well, let me know if she finds anything,” Bel said. “I called her earlier, but she didn’t answer, so I was just trying to figure out where she was… hold on, I’m getting another call.” She checked the screen before pressing the phone back to her ear. “It’s Thum.”
“I’ll let you go,” Griffin said, and she hung up with her boss before answering the medical examiner.
“Detective, can you stop by the morgue today?” Lina asked. “I realize you’re busy, but since Olivia’s out of town, I need to show you something.”
“Um…” Bel rose from the chair and crossed the floor to the window to watch the fat snowflakes hide the street behind their fluffy curtain. “The weather will force us to halt shooting for the day soon, so maybe I can stop by before the storm gets bad.”
“I don’t want to make you drive in a blizzard,” Lina said. “But you need to see this. Is there any way you can come now?”
“I’ll check if another officer can escort Mr. Draven to the bed-and-breakfast for me.” Bel scanned the thrift shop and spotted a deputy’s head behind a vintage wardrobe.
“Sounds good. Let me know if you can’t make it. I don’t want to get stuck here.”
“I’ll text you in a few minutes.” Bel hung up and jogged over to the officer, realizing it was Rollo when she tapped him on the shoulder.
“Can I ask for a favor?” she asked.
“Sure.” He smiled. “What’s up?”
“Lina needs me at the morgue,” she said, “but I’m supposed to escort Mr. Draven back to thebed-and-breakfastafter they wrap. Would you drive him for me?”
“Um…” Rollo shifted his weight, a conflict of interest wrestling on his features. “I’m technically past the end of my shift, and I’ve already put in overtime today. I planned to head over to Violet’s before wegetsnowed in. I promised to spend the storm with herso I couldshovel her out.”
“Right.” Bel rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to formulate a Plan B. “Okay, I’ll see if I can find someone else.”
“No, don’t do that.” Rollo sighed, his body sagging with the same weariness her muscles achedwith. “I’ll help.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Is Griffin going to yell at me for how many hours I’m about to add to your overtime check?”
“Probably,” he laughed.
“Okay. I’ll ask someone else.” She tried to leave, but the deputy captured her wrist before she made it two feet.
“No, Detective, I’ll help,” he insisted. “The snow’s getting bad. I don’t want you to have an accident because I wasted your time. I’ll escort him back to the inn. It’s no trouble.”
“Thank you.” Bel squeezed his biceps. “And you can blame Violethavingto shovel her car out on me.”
“Oh, I intend to!” Rollo shouted after her. “But maybe if I put in a good word, she’ll forgive you.”
“Let’s hope!” She crossed her fingers over her head and then pulled Draven aside to warn him about her departure. The dusted streets slowed her trip to the morgue to a snail’s pace despite her SUV’s all-wheel drive, but she eventually made it, white flakes coating every inch of her just from racing from her car to the front door.
“How bad is it?” Lina asked as Bel stomped the snow off her boots.
“Getting there,” she answered. “Thank god I have an SUV.”
“I saw the new wheels,” Lina said as she led the detective to her office. “It’s nice.” She raised her eyebrows to punctuate her words.
“Perks of coming back from thedead.” Bel smirked. “It was Eamon’s. He pulled it out of storage for me.”
“Can you imagine having a car like that and keeping it in storage?” The M.E. shook her head. “Does he have any other cars he’s looking to unload?” She gestured for the laughing Bel to take a seat andthenslid behind her desk to wake up her computer.
“So, it took a lot of digging, but I finally located a cold case that matches the torn autopsy report in Warren Rouge’s mouth,” she continued, turning suddenly solemn, and suchintensity filled her gaze that Bel’s stomach clenched in anticipation. “This is it. This is why he’s killing.” She twisted her monitor so they could review the records together. “Six years ago, one year before the show became a viral sensation, a Jane Doe approximately in her seventies was found murdered in the snowy woods of the parks that line the Palisades Interstate Parkway just north of New York City.” Lina clicked on the crime scene photos, and Bel almost threw upat the sight.
“What big eyes you have,” she whispered as she traced the image of the snow-dusted pine trees. The same pine trees that were printed on the contact lenses inserted into Gwen Rossa’s eyes.
“They line up exactly.” Lina held up a print of Rossa’s negatives, and the landscape from the police report matched it with beautiful uniformity. “There’s no official time of death. Her body was discovered in January, but they don’t know when she was killed. It was particularly cold that year, and with the freezing temperatures, she could’ve been there for days orevenweeks.”
“What big ears you have,” Bel said. “That’s why the weather report didn’t mention a date just a month.”
“I think so,” Lina agreed. “Jane Doe was found stabbed five times in the abdomen, each wound made with the same weapon, but driven into her body with different force and angles. The medical examiner on the case questioned if that meant more than one assailant.”
“What big teeth you have,” Bel said, referencing the torn autopsy report in Rouge’s mouth. “Five stab wounds. Five killers. Five murders here in Bajka.”
“Well, technically four.”
“But the fifth is coming. The killer isn’t done, but he isn’t targeting the show. He’s getting revenge.”
“That was my first thought,” Lina agreed. “But I can’t imagine why members of the cast and crew,especially powerful players like the producer and director, would murder a woman.”
“For a deal,” she whispered to herself. What a big nose you have. The show’s renewal article shoved into Rot’s nostrils. It was this case’s why, and Jane Doe was the who. A deal had been made to save Aesop’s Files, but the victim’s lives weren’t the price. Jane Doe was. Five members of the show sacrificed an innocent woman to launch them into the limelight, and the man who’d threatened her outside her home had accepted this poor woman’s death as his offering. He granted their wish in exchange for staining their souls with murder, and someone was picking them off one by one in a morbid display of revenge. The only question was who? Was the killer connected to the victim, or was it the deal himself? Dark magic almost always exacted payment in the cruelest ways. It had tried to steal Bel from Eamon. It had taken Anne from Blaubart. Had the Aesop’s Files victims not read the fine print, and were they paying for that mistake now?
“That’s not all,” Lina said, interrupting her thoughts, and Bel froze in her seat. She didn’t like the expression on the M.E.’s face.
“Jane Doe was found wearing one of thoselongand puffy winter jackets. The kind with hoods that reach mid-thigh. It was a white coat, so the police on the case figured the killers had tossed it over her body to hide her in the snow. They forgot to consider the blood, though, and that’s how witnesses spotted the corpse. The blood seeped into the fabric, turning itcompletelyred, and passersby noticed it.
“A red hooded cloak.” Bel felt sick. “Stab wounds to the abdomen and a red cloak covering the bodies… he’s replicating Jane Doe’s death.”
“Theatrically, but yes,” Lina said.
“Because he’s also mimicking the show with the claw marks and the pageantry. He wants us to understand that Jane Doe and Aesop’s Files are connected. Did the show shoot in New York six years ago? Were Rossa, Roja, Rot, and Rouge in the City? Could they have murdered Jane Doe?”
“I’m not sure,” Lina said. “That’ll be easy to confirm, though.”
“I’ll ask someone when I get back to set,” Bel said.
“So it seems we found our who, but I thought he wouldn’t reveal that until the final kill.”
“He hasn’t, though,” Bel said. “We have no idea who Jane Doe is, and without an ID, we can’t pinpoint who wants revenge. We still have to wait for the last death.”
“We’re so close,” Lina sagged in her seat. “We practically have him, yet we have nothing. The detectives investigating Jane Doe’s murder never even had a lead on her identity.”
“It’s why the killer gave this to us.” Bel gestured to the digital report. “He knew that even if we found the cold case, wewouldn’tfigure it out. He’s smart. He won’t give us anything that can stop him.”
“It makes you wonder who we’re dealing with,” Lina said.
“Yeah.” But Bel didn’t have to imagine. She knew. He’d threatened her. Only she had no way of learning his identity. He was as much of a mystery as Jane Doe.
“Doctor?” Lina’s assistant leaned into her office. “The weather has taken a turn for the worse. If we don’t leave now, we’ll get stuck here. The news is warning people to go home and stay there.”
“That bad already?” Lina asked. “Wow, okay. Thank you. And make sure everyone leaves.”
“Will do,” the man said as he disappeared down the hall.
“Well, thanks for coming.” Lina stood to gather her things. “I hope you don’t get stuck driving home. You have a longer trip than I do.”
“I should return to set first and make sure everyone gets to thebed-and-breakfastsafely,” Bel said. “At this rate, I’ll probably be sleeping there. Hopefully, they have an empty room.”
“On the bright side, no one will leave the inn in this nasty weather. We shouldn’t have to worry about anyone getting killed.”
“Gwen Rossa’s murder took place during a snowstorm,” Bel reminded her. “Hence why I’m going back to check on everyone. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Right… but this storm is shaping up to be worse than that one. Please be careful. No more car crashes, okay?”
“I’ll try my best.” Bel hugged the examiner goodbye but froze when her eyes landed on the computer screen. “Lina, what’s that?” She released the M.E. and stepped back toward the desk, jabbing her finger at a wide-shot photograph of the Jane Doe evidence.
“Oh... um…” Lina leaned closer to the photo. “The detectives found that necklace at the scene, but they weren’t convinced it belonged to the victim because of its location to the body.”
“Close, but not that close?” she asked.
“Something like that. It’s why the jewelry was never released to the public in case it alerted the killers that they’d been discovered.”
“Do you know what the pendant is?” Bel strained to make out the carving.
“There’s a closeup somewhere.” Lina leaned down and scrolled through the images. “I looked it up, though, andit’s a depiction ofSaint Anne… oh, here’s the photo. Saint Anne is the patron saint of different types of women,” she continued, oblivious to Bel’s sudden distress. “But most notable is that of grandmothers.”
Bel studied the enlarged engraving, and her stomach plummeted through her body when she saw the image. The alarmingly familiarimageof a saint reading a book to the child leaning against her lap. She’d seen this saint before, but it hadn’t been on a medallion. It had been a tattoo, and she’d just handed the actor they believed to be the next victim over to its owner.