Page 26 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Only the front door to enter.”

Bel glanced at Garrett, their partner bond speaking wordlessly, and he nodded, leaving to print the doors to confirm his statement. She watched him go, practically praying that they would find Eamon’s prints elsewhere just to prove he was lying, that he was involved. She turned back to the towering blond and recoiled at his expression. His arrogant mask had dropped now that they were unobserved, as if he refused to allow anyone but her to see the predator beneath. Normally confident and sophisticated, his hungry eyes and hunched posture lost all pretenses of civility, flushing icy fear through her veins.

“I find it suspicious that, once again, you had dealings with a victim right before their death.” She forced her voice to remain steady as she regained control of the conversation. “It’s a stretch to believe you conveniently had a meeting with Victor Legat this morning.”

“Think what you will, Detective,” Eamon growled, “but I was not the one to request this appointment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Legat called me last night, requesting I meet him today before the store opened. He knows I prefer privacy.”

“Our victim called you? Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

“It is not so hard to believe, Detective.” Eamon said detective as if it was her name, as if he was tasting every syllable, savoring each letter. “I had business with his shop.”

“What kind?”

“There was a piano left in the Reale Mansion when I arrived.” He leaned forward further and inhaled as if he didn’t even realize he was breathing in her scent. “It’s an antique, damaged from years of abandonment, but its skeleton is good. I had hired Mr. Legat to restore it for me.”

“You hired Lumen to design furniture and Legat to repair a piano?” Bel wanted to lean back, to escape his hold, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in his orbit, letting his predacious gaze drink her down as he breathed her in, and she would never admit it, but the look of pure desire that flooded his eyes at her scent set her heart racing. “And you purchased your coffee from The Espresso Shot?”

“Of course I did, Detective.” Honey… her title on his tongue was like honey. “Doesn’t everyone in Bajka?”

“You had dealings with all three of our victims, saw them right before their deaths, and now discovered Victor Legat’s body. If you did this, if you killed him… I won’t stop until I find who's responsible, and if it was you, so help me God.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said reverently, surprising her. “But I can assure you, Detective, I may be evil, but I am not the evil you’re hunting.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Eamon smiled, sharp canines capturing her sight. He was beautiful when he smiled. He was the devil.

“You said Legat called you?” Bel ripped her view from his teeth and planted them on his soulless eyes. “What time?”

“Around 9:00 p.m.,” he answered, and she made a mental note to both check the phone records and tell Lina. It would help her narrow the time of death window.

“Did you speak to him, or did he leave a message?”

“Spoke to him.”

“How did he sound? Was he agitated? Did he come off nervous? Coerced? Relaxed?”

“He sounded matter of fact…” Eamon paused, as if just realizing something. “Perhaps a little too much. I didn't find it out of the ordinary, but I suppose it was robotic.”

Bel refused to say it out loud because she wanted to believe this man who terrified her was the killer, but her gut resisted her suspicions. She knew Garrett was convinced of Eamon’s guilt, but what if someone forced Victor to make the call to place him in her line of fire? Eamon was involved. Of that, she had no doubt, but the small part of her that didn’t fear him whispered that while he was a monster come to plague her town, he was not this monster.

“Did he give you a reason for wanting to meet?” Bel asked.

“It was about the piano. He wanted me to see it.”

“Did he mention why he needed you to?”

“No, but when I found his body, I understood the meaning.”

“How so?” Dread filled her belly. She didn’t want him to say it.

“Because,” he spoke slowly so she would understand his every word. “The piano he’s kneeling before is mine.”

“I may be evil,but I am not the evil you’re hunting.”Those words repeated in her mind as they processed the scene, hanging over her like a storm cloud as they interviewed potential witnesses. They taunted her as she handled the paperwork, walked Cerberus, and tried to sleep. This dread warned her that considering it was foolish, but what if he told the truth? What if something darker than Eamon had infiltrated her town, wanting her so focused on the handsome millionaire that she never saw the true villain before he came for her? Before he came for them all?

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