Chapter 23
Bel launched into a run, leaving a baffled Lina in her wake. She slid on the snow as she exploded from the morgue’s front door, cracking her knees on the sidewalk as she stumbled, but she was on her feet in seconds, tumbling with bruises and all into her SUV. She knew who the killer was, and she’d handed Beau Draven over to him. This storm was worse than the one that fell the night Gwen Rossa died, but it was a storm all the same—a perfect cover for a murder. No one would notice Beau Draven’s or Ethan Rollo’s absence until it was too late.
Bel smashed her car’s Bluetooth button, sending Eamon a silent thank you for gifting her a vehicle with all the bells and whistles, and ordered the automated voice to dial Griffin. Death grip on the steering wheel, she waited for him to answer, but when his cell went to voicemail three times in a row, she radioed dispatch.
“Has anyone seen Griffin?” she asked.
“There was a multi-car accident a few minutes ago, and he’s at the scene,” the operator said. “There are unconfirmed reports of casualties.”
“Oh god.”
“It’s awful,” the operator said. “Be careful out there, Detective. It’s getting bad.”
Bel gritted her teeth as she took a turn too fast and prayed that no one died in that crash.
“If I hear from him, I’ll tell him you called,” the woman said. “Do you want me to pass along a message?”
“Yeah…” Bel snapped her mouth shut. What if she was wrong? She couldn’t broadcast her theory about Rollo without proof. It would ruin him if she were mistaken. “Actually, no. Just tell him to call me.”
“Will do, Detective.”
“Thanks.” Bel slammed on her brakes, her SUV skidding to a stop outside the thrift store, and she launched herself out into the snow. “Mr. Draven?” she called as she burst through the front door. “Mr. Draven…? Excuse me.” She grabbed a production assistant’s arm. “Have you seen Beau?”
“You just missed him,” the man said. “Filming shut down early, and we’re just getting the last of the set packed up.”
“Was he with Officer Rollo?” she asked.
“Yeah, but they only left for the bed-and-breakfast a few minutes ago.”
“Thanks.” Bel raced back to her car, her shoulder slapping on the frame in her haste to jump into the driver’s seat. She gritted her teeth to keep from groaning as she threw the SUV into drive and surged down the coated street. She had time. She could still catch them.
Ten minutes later, though, the traffic ground to a halt. The red and blue lights of the squad car painted the snow-laden air, and realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere soon, Bel parked and jogged to the deputy directing the cars.
“What’s going on?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself to shield her chest from the piercing wind.
“Accident,” the deputy said. “The entire road is closed off. We’re rerouting people.”
“I heard that there might be casualties. Is that true?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s bad.”
Bel cursed as she peered behind the man. She’d never reach the inn using this street. She’d have to take the long way.
“Did you see Officer Rollo pass by here?” she asked.
“Yeah, a bit ago,” the deputy said. “He was driving that actor to the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Did he take the detour?”
“I think so.”
“Thanks.” Bel sprinted back to her car and used the Bluetooth to dial the inn. “This is Detective Isobel Emerson. Has Mr. Draven returned yet?” she asked when the owner answered her call.
“Hi, Detective,” the woman said. “No, I’ve yet to see him. Returns are slow with this weather, though. I hope you’re staying out of it.”
“So you haven’t seen him?”
“Not since this morning, no.”
Bel cursed under her breath. “Thanks.” She hung up and drove recklessly around a smaller car blocking her path. Beau hadn’t returned to the inn, but that meant nothing in this blizzard. It was slow going, especially with the accident. They might still be driving. She still might catch them.
Bel honked her horn, and the sedan aheadofher swerved out of the way. The driverflashed her a glareas she passed, only for his expression to turn sheepish when he saw her raised badge. She continued to honk, receiving car after car of dirty looks until the drivers realized she was a cop on a mission, and through the curtain of snow, blue and red flashing lights finally came into view. Sagging into her seat, Bel pulled up beside the squad car, confident she’d found Rollo until she recognized the officer’s features. She cursed as she rolled down her window, and Yates leaned down from where he stood guiding traffic.
“You okay, Detective?” he asked.
“Officer Rollo and Mr. Draven,” she shouted over the commotion of horns and distant sirens. “Have you seen them?”
“Um…” the officer peered behind her. “I’m the only squad car I’ve seen. Most are at the accident site.”
“Do you know if there were casualties?”
The deputy stared down at her with pinched lips, and she had her answer. Someone had died, and her mind flashed to Violet. According to Rollo, she was supposed to be home waiting for him. She prayed that was the truth.
“So, to confirm, Officer Rollo never drove past you?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Thanks.” Bel rolled up her window with a curse. Somewhere between the last officer directing traffic and Deputy Yates, Rollo and Draven had disappeared, and she turned her car around.Creeping through thewall ofwhite, she scanned the streets for a clue where Rollo had taken the actor.
It all made sense now. Whythebodiesprovidednoevidence.Why the victims didn’t have defensivewounds.Thekiller was a cop. He knew what the detectives would search for, so he’d been careful. People trusted police officers. They’dbe quick toaccept a lift from a handsome officer in the cold. Rollo had been on duty when Ellery Roja left the inn for snacks, but his shift ended only minutes later. Had he driven to the twenty-four-hour mart and offered the costume designer a ride home just beyond the reach of the store’s surveillance? Had he promised to protect her and then flirted to distract her from where he was driving? Or had she enjoyed the flirting and agreed to disappear with him? Was that how he’d convinced Gwen Rossa to get into his car? Had he used his beauty to catch her eye and lure her into the woods?
Bel couldn’t figure out how he’d tricked Alistair Rot into his car, but being a police officer, she imagined it took little convincing, and with Warren Rouge, Chloe Rider did all the heavy lifting. After Miss Rider left the bed-and-breakfast in the cab, Rollo drove to check out a noise. He’d then parked so only the front feet of his hood were visible on camera, and Bel assumed it was because he wanted a better view of the inn. Only he hadn’t been there. The car’s lights were merely his alibi. He’d left, killed the director, and returned before the end of his shift, his squad car never moving from the camera’s watchful eye.
And now Draven, or as he’d been born, Reds. Bel had handed him to Rollo on a silver platter, a dangerous blizzard and a fatal car crash granting him the perfect night of chaos. With all the snow, Rollo probably excused his deviation from the detour as a way to skirt traffic. Draven was unfamiliar with Bajka. He wouldn’t know that Rollo’s alternate route was a lie. He wouldn’t remember which directions led back to the inn and which led to the tree-concealed hiking trails.
Bel slammed on her brakes, her SUV sliding a few feet before it slowed to a halt. Tire tracks. They were faint, meaning no one else had traversed that side street in a few minutes, but she knew whose car they belonged to. This was where Rollo deviated from the detour because that seemingly inconsequential street led to a road that eventually wound its way to the edge of town… the edge that sat up against the hiking trails and the expansive Reale Estate. He was taking Draven into the woods, and if she didn’t catch up with him, Beau would become Bajka’s most famous murder victim.
Bel eased through the cars blocking the turn. She could barely see more than a few feet ahead of her, and she thanked God this part of town was abandoned. She pushed her car to a reckless pace and hit the Bluetooth button to dial her boss.
But nothing happened.
She dialed again, but aquickglance told her she had no service. The accident or the storm must’ve knocked something out, and she glanced at her useless phone as she barreled after a serial killer. Olivia was out of town and the entire force was dealing with the crash. If shedidn’t catchRollo, Beau would die, and while he might be guilty in his own right, she couldn’t let Hollywood’s favorite heartthrob die in Bajka. Rollo wasbiggerthan her, but he wasn’t as experienced. He was younger, and he hadn’t faced evil like she had. He hadn’t survived a witch or two kidnappings. He hadn’t fought a man cursed by a drugged tattoo orlived throughthe Impaler’s attack. He was nothing but a young officer with a gun. Bel was the woman who threw herself into kidnappers’ cars and choked them until they crashed. As long as she reached Rollo before he murdered Draven, shewas the one withthe upper hand.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Eamon called as he jogged down the grand staircase. Cerberus was barking at the front door, signaling he wanted to go outside, and Eamon felt guilty. He’d been so distracted by helping Bel these past few weeks that he needed to play catch-up on hisownwork. He’d sequestered himself in his office, gifting Bel’s pitbull a pile of new toys to keep him busy, but that was hours ago. It seemed the poor animal had to potty sobadlythat he’dtaken to shoutingin the foyer so his voice would echo endlessly throughout the mansion.
“I should build you a fence out back and a doggy door,” he said as he shoved his feet into his shoes and pulled open the door. “I’ll have to install security cameras though, because I don’t think your mom would like you hanging outside alone, even with a fence.”
Cerberus ignored his musings and leaped off the front stoop, almost disappearing in the deep snow as he landed on the driveway. Eamon burst into laughter as the pup’s stocky legs fought the white drifts, and then he froze. He’d been locked in his office all day, and while he’d noticed the snowflakes falling past his window, he’d been on the second floor. He hadn’t realized how deep it had gotten, and panic replaced his humor at Cerberus’ antics. Bel wasn’t home, nor had she called, and he pulled out his phone to click on their text thread.
Eamon
Justchecking in since the storm’s getting worse. Are you okay? Do you need me tocomeget you?
Cerberus barked, and Eamon glanced up, shoving his cell into his pocket when he realized the pitbull was glaring at him.
“Are you stuck, or are you mad I’m not playing?” he asked, and the pup barked again, shifting his weight to tell Eamon his tootsies were cold.
“Big baby.” Eamon chuckled as he jumped down into the white. “You can do it. I just saw you walk out there. And I know you don’t mind the cold… granted, the snow doesn’t usually reach your shoulders.” He scooped up the dog and dusted the snow off his chilly body. “Better?” he asked as he strode to the front door, and Cerberus planted a messy kiss on his cheek. “Like I said, big baby.” But he kissed the dog’s beefy head for good measure before depositing him inside. “Once the storm slows, I’ll shovel a section for you, okay?”
Cerberus wagged his tail as if he understood Eamon’s promise, and Eamon patted his head before leading the dog into the kitchen. He was up. He shouldfeedthem both before he metaphorically chained himself to his desk for the night.
“I hope your mom’s okay,” he said, checking his silent phone before dumping food into Cerberus’ bowl. “I know she’s an adult… and a tornado of a woman, but I hate when she doesn’t call.” He turned on the kitchen TV and scratched the munching pup before turning to the fridge.He always waited to make dinner until Bel returned home so he could eat with her, butthese mealshe preferred to eat alone.She’d yet to see him feed. He could go for extended periods without blood, but he couldn’t quit it. It was one of his only weaknesses. If starved, he would eventually wither into dust. Lucky for him, and unfortunately for his enemies, he was almost impossible to restrain, and human blood was one of theeasiestmeals to obtain. It was harder to consume when he drank ethically, but it would take him an exceptionally long time to starve. Many had tried starving him, including hisownmother. Not one had come even close.
Eamon removed the shelf and unlocked the secret compartmentin the back ofhis fridge. He didn’t want Bel stumbling onto his stores while fishing for a snack, so he’d commissioned a custom refrigerator. Hefundedmultiple private medical groups, which made it easy to skim donations off the top. Bel knew blood ensured his survival, and she appreciated the absence of death, but he wasn’t sure how she would react if she saw him sucking down prepacked blood as if it were a juice box.
“No, this isn’t for you.” Eamon pushed the piggy Cerberus aside. The dog had finished his meal, and his curiosity had him chasing Eamon through the kitchen. “You just ate, and your mom would get mad if I overfed you and then the vet yelled at her. I don’t get off as easily as you do. She thinks you do no wrong, but she likes to yell at me. She’ll blame me if you get tubby.” He gave the pit’s muscular ribs a loving thump. “So no begging. You don’t want me getting into trouble, do you?”
Eamon put the blood into abottle warmer.Infants drank formula at around ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and human blood was around one hundred degrees when flowing through the body. The bottle warmer was such an innocent thing to purchase, yet its use in his house would shock most mothers, this pitbull’s mom included. Or maybe not. Bel loved him even though his crimes had inspired the most feared literary creature.Maybethis setup wouldn’t freak her out.
Eamon glanced at his phone again, the dog’s mother still ignoring him, and he hated how his stomach roiled at the silence. The weather was atrocious, and her attention was undoubtedly focused on driving, not checking her texts, but the same fears plagued him every time their communicationswentsilent. In reality, both her hands were probably glued to the steering wheel, but in his mind, her lack of response meant she was bleeding out in a ditch.
“Get a grip,” he growled at himself as he grabbed the warmed blood and stared at the television to distract himself. She was fine. She was watching an arrogant yet unreasonably handsome actor. Being flirted with was the only danger threatening her, but that didn’t bother him. Not because he wasn’t jealous, but because Bel was a special breed of woman. She didn’t give him reason to doubt her loyalty. She might tease him, but she’d never betray his trust. It was one of the many reasons he loved her so unconditionally. He didn’t need to worry about her leaving him for the flattery of a celebrity. He did worry about her leaving him because she’d been reckless... again.
Eamon downed the blood, bored with the television program. It wasyetanother special on Aesop’s Files and the murders plaguing Bajka. He’d watched season after season to help Bel, and he was so sick of the show that the clips on the screen made him want to gag on this dinner, so he grabbed the remote and aimed it to turn off the TV when the camera zoomed in on a behind-the-scene recording from years ago.
Eamon’s alreadycoolbody flushed as cold as the snow coating the earth outside his mansion, and he hit the pause button, freezing the shot so he could get a better look. But his eyes weren’t lying. The footage was of Beau Draven and his original costar Willow Moon speaking to the director, Warren Rouge. The handheld camera shook as it captured the interactions, but it wasn’t those familiar faces that rooted Eamon’s feet to the ground. It was the man behind the actors. He was young, practically a kid helping to run cables through the set. He wasclearlyonly a production assistant, and while his outfit differed vastly from the uniform he wore now, his face was the same. Ethan Rollo had worked for Aesop’s Files before its rise to fame, and Eamon understood. The Bajka Police Department hadn’t hired Rollo by accident. He was here on purpose.
Eamon dialed Bel’s number so fast that he almost cracked the screen withhisforce, but the call failed. He tried again, but then he noticed the absence of service. The storm must’ve damaged a nearby cell tower, so he pulled up the necklace tracker on its app. Its advanced technology didn’t rely on conventional networks, and to his relief, the red dot marking her location lit up his screen. His relief was short-lived, though, because Bel wasn’t on set. She wasn’t at the station or the inn. She wasn’t even in town. The location pinged from the woods near his property, and with a jolt of fear so powerful that physical pain lanced his chest, Eamon raced for the door. He didn’t bother with a coat. He didn’t bother withcarkeys.Hesimplyran out into the blizzard, praying he wasn’t too late.
Bel pulled up next to the parked squad car, but even through the thick snow, she could see it stood empty. She cursed, slamming her fist on the steering wheel before scanning the trees. Confronting Rollo by their cars was one thing, but chasing him into the whiteness? That wouldn’t end well, and if Rollo had forced Draven into the woods, it would be a matter of minutes before the officer gutted him. Not that she’d be able to find them in this blizzard. Her SUV handled inclement weather well, though. Maybe she should push forward and see?—
Bel jumped out of the car and reached for her necklace, the crimson fabric a beacon in the white only a few yards ahead of the parked vehicles. The men hadn’t wandered far. Draven was still alive, and he wasn’t wearing the red cloak. It still hung from Rollo’s clenched fist… his unarmed fist. The deputy didn’t even have his service weapon on his person, and Bel withdrew her Glock instead of pressing the panic button.
“Don’t do it, Rollo!” she shouted above the winds, and both men flinched at her voice.
“Oh thank god, Detective!” Beau shrieked, but Rollo clocked him in the head, silencing his plea.
“Shut up,” he growled.
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t!” Bel inched closer, thumbing off her Glock’s safety. “Drop the cloak and put your hands in the air.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Detective,” Rollo shouted. He wasn’t wearing his uniform either. Only a simple white tee shirt and loose hanging sweats protected him from the cold.
“And neither should you, Ethan.” Bel switched to his first name, hoping it would give him pause. “You’ve done nothing yet. We can get in the car and go home.”
“Except that’s a lie!” he shouted. “I’ve already killed four people. I can never go home, soI’m going tofinish this.”
“Please don’t do this, Ethan,” she begged. “I can’t let you kill him, and I don’t want to shoot you. I will, though, so don’t make me.”
“Leave, Detective. I like you… a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t!” Bel stepped another foot closer. “Just get back in the car. It’s that simple.”
“I can’t stop now!” he shouted. “You don’t understand, but I won’t let him get away with what he did.”
“I know what he did,” she said, changing tactics. Pleading with him wasn’t working. Maybe assuring him someone understood his pain would. “Jane Doe, six years ago. Her body was found in the woods with multiple stab wounds. The police surmised a different person inflicted each blow. Five killers. Five victims. Jane Doe was your grandmother, wasn’t she?”
“And they slaughtered her like an animal!” Rollo shouted, and the waver in his voice warned Bel he was crying. “I worked for the show then. I was just a production assistant, so I meant nothing to these monsters.” He shoved Beau, and the falling stage light that almost hit Taron flashed through Bel’s memory. He’d known exactly how to help because he’d worked on a set before. It was how he got his hands on the prop-like clues and weapon. He still had connections from his time with Aesop’s Files.
“They were going to cancel the show,” he continued, and Bel crept another foot closer. “They were all losing their shot at fame, so the… never mind, you wouldn’t understand!” He grabbed Beau by the throat, and Bel lunged forward, her finger ready on the trigger
“Except you know I do!” she argued. “It’s whyI’ve never seen you and Eamon in the same room together. You recognize what he is and have been hiding from his power, soofcourseI understand. I know why the show became famous overnight. These five made a deal, and your grandmother was the price. All black magic is bought with blood and pain, and your grandma was the sacrifice.”
Rollo gawked at her, and Bel seized his shock to move yet another foot closer. If he learned she understood the darkness that plagued this world, maybe he’d listen to her.
“They must have selected your grandmother because of you,” she continued. “Did the deal demand an offeringwho meantsomething to the cast and crew? Did they choose your grandmother because you loved her? They didn’t want to sacrifice theirownfamilies, so they condemned a nobody. A lowly production assistant.”
“Yes” Rollo collapsed in on himself, and Bel let herself exhale. She was getting to him.
“They needed someone loved, otherwise the magic wouldn’t be powerful enough,” he continued. “I was nothing to them. Just some broke assistant with no family, save an old lady. So they butchered her and became famous while I suffered for six years. Six years!” His aggression swelled, and Bel feared she was losing him.
“I tried to bring my grandmother justice the legal way.” Rollo seized Beau’s shirt and positioned him as a human shield. Bel’s anxiety flinched, but she controlled her expression. Using the actor as a shield didn’t bode well for their outcome. Rollo wasn’t listening to her. He had no intentions of complying. He was preparing for a fight, and if Bel took him down, he intended Draven to die with him.
“I went to the police and presented proof, but it didn’t help,” he continued. “I gave them Grandma’s name, yet she’s still only known as Jane Doe. It was like they couldn’t hear me. The deal wouldn’t let me undo his work, so I became a cop.I thought ifI joined the force, I could influence change from the inside, but it was pointless. The show’s fame eclipsed all justice, so I took matters into my own hands. When I learned Bajka needed new deputies, I applied, and after I was hired, I reached out to my old contacts. I put the idea of filming here into their heads. I sent photos and my praises. I recommended holding the fan events here since a smaller town would be safer, and their greed fell for it. I had them eating out of the palms of my hand, and they lowered their guard. Gwen Rossa, Ellery Roja, Alistair Rot, Warren Rouge, and now Beau Reds. The five people who murdered my grandmother. I made them pay for the life they stole. I killed them the same way they heartlessly cut into her because I wanted them to be afraid, to know I was coming for them. I still have one more to punish for his sins.”
“Let me go!” Draven fought against Rollo’s hold. “Detective, do your job and get this lunatic off me.”
“Ethan,” Bel begged, irritated by Beau’s arrogance in the face of his guilt. “Please don’t do this. Let him go, and I’ll make sure he pays. You know me. I keep my word.”
“I do know you, Detective,” he said. “It’s why you need to leave. I don’t want to hurt you, but the deal won’t let you take Draven down. Any evidence you think you have against these five will never see the light of day. That devil is Aesop’s Files now, so death is the only way to make the guilty pay. I’m already going to hell for my crimes. What’s one more death on my hands?”
“Detective, get him off me!” Beau screamed.
“Ethan, don’t make me shoot you.” Bel raised her gun, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Beau Draven had murdered an innocent grandmother for the fickle future of fame. He deserved this fate, didn’t he? “You aren’t going to hell for your sins,” she continued. “These people are monsters. They deserve what they got, but don’t add anothermurder to your list. Let him go, and I’ll help you. I promise to do whatever’s needed, but youhave tolet him go.”
“Leave, Detective.”
“Please, Ethan, don’t do this.”
“I said leave, Bel!” he screamed, his body vibrating unnaturally.
“I can’t let you do this.” She aimed her gun.
“But I have to.” Rollo met her gaze, and the violence in his eyes made her stumble backward. It wasn’t human. “I’ve had enough talking,” he growled, his voice deepening with an unnatural tremor. “It ends tonight, Detective.Don’t get in my way.I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t let Beau Draven live. I’ll die before I let him go free.”
And with that, Rollo’s body burst apart, his skin splitting in the most gruesome display of gore… one that Bel had witnessed once before, and just like Ewan when he shed his human shell to inhabit the bear, Rollo’s flesh mutated into fur and claws until a wolf more monster than animal stood before her.