Page 34 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Good night, Emerson.”

“Goodnight.” She hung up the phone, slipping it into her pocket as a feminine silhouette darted through the woods.

“Who’s there?” Bel yelled, pulling her dog into a run after the mystery woman. “Stop! Police.”

The woman’s shadow vanished, and Bel stopped short, her heart in her throat, a confused pitbull dragging behind her. For a moment, both woman and pet stared into the darkness, and then Cerberus loosed a low growl.

* * *

“Bel, dear?”Vera appeared from behind the bushes, and Cerberus’ growls increased. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Bel pulled the dog closer to her legs. “I thought… never mind.”

“Thought what?” her neighbor pressed, stepping back so that the shrubbery separated her from the pitbull.

“Did you see a woman? A blonde?”

“No.” An odd look passed over Vera’s face. “Where, here?”

“Yeah…” Bel realized how crazy she sounded. She needed sleep. Real sleep. “I thought I saw someone… probably just the wind and shadows.”

“Must be, you poor thing. There’s no one over here. Just me.” Vera smiled. Bel returned the expression, Cerberus still growling at the woods, and she pulled him away from her neighbor and back home, terrified that she was seeing things. This was the second time she had chased a blonde ghost. Women—tangible women who appeared as flesh and blood on security footage—didn’t vanish into thin air… twice.

Bel locked herself and Cerberus inside their cabin and dragged a recliner in front of the window. She resolved to stand guard, to stalk whatever was stalking her in the hopes of proving her mind wasn’t conjuring blondes in the night. It wasn’t healthy; she realized that. She desperately needed a good night’s sleep, but the alternative was to lie silently in her bed, allowing thoughts of Garrett and death and vicious black eyes to consume her. No, she would keep watch and prove her sanity was not so far gone as to play tricks—

The phone rang, vibrating in her lap, and Bel jerked awake, her neck twinging at the sudden movement. She groaned as sunlight poured into her eyes, blinding her as she fumbled to answer the call.

“Emerson.” Her voice escaped her lips like an irate frog, and she hunched forward to ease the sharp pain in her back. She was too old to sleep sitting up.

“Did I wake you?” the Sheriff grunted over the line.

“It’s fine.” Bel squinted at the digital clock above the microwave. The red numbers read 9:30 a.m., and a jolt of surprise ran through her. She couldn’t believe she had slept so late, and in a chair no less. No wonder her body felt like it was cracking glass.

“Sorry, but I figured you would want an update,” Griffin said. “The lab results came back on the souvenirs from Cassidy’s apartment. As we suspected, the blood on the wooden leaf was Lumen’s, the blood on the coffee beans was Kaffe’s, and the blood on the piano key was Legat’s. There was no other evidence on the leaf or the beans, but they found a print on the piano key.” Griffin paused, but Bel already guessed his next words. “It belongs to Eamon Stone.”

She sucked in a breath.

“But before you get excited, the lab also confirmed the key belonged to the piano at Legat’s scene. That instrument is owned by Stone, so his print on the key is not exactly the smoking gun we were hoping for.”

“Are you going to at least question him?” Bel asked, all hope fizzling like embers in a rainstorm.

“We’re doing one better.” She heard the smile in the Sheriff’s voice. “Because of Stone’s interactions with all three victims, the piano, the prints, and the officers’ deaths, the judge issued a warrant for his house. We’re on our way to serve it now.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“If something’s there, we’ll find it,” Griffin promised. “I’ll update you when we have news. Get some rest in the meantime.”

“Will do,” she lied. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Of course, Emerson.” He hung up, and Bel plugged her phone in to charge. She couldn’t sit here and wait for another call. Not when she was the one who should be serving that warrant, the one searching every inch of Eamon’s haunted ruins. She knew she was being reckless. Her New York self would freak out if she could see her now, but Bel needed this. She needed answers. To avenge Garrett. To prove she wasn’t going insane.

But that wasn’t the only driving force behind her decision to disobey orders. She wanted to believe in the darkness of Eamon’s predatory gaze. Her soul knew that the man was capable of murder, that he could spill blood without remorse, but his lack of motive nagged at her as she fed Cerberus. Why would a successful millionaire move to a small town and turn murdered strangers into objects? Why stalk her through the woods? Why watch her sleep? Bel wasn’t connected to the victims, so why hunt her through the trees and transform flesh into furniture? Except… that she was the lead investigator on the case. Why not drive the detective to insanity so she failed to do her job and recognize Stone’s evil?

Bel growled at herself. Was she really so fooled by a handsome face? Eamon Stone was the most intoxicating man she’d ever laid eyes on. His skin begged to be pressed against hers; his lips dared hers to accept their invitation. Every curve of muscle, every strand of dark blond hair, every carefully executed movement was desire wrapped in flesh. Her body craved his in ways that terrified her. She wasn’t a woman deceived by perfection. Not a woman blinded by men.

Bel snagged her keys and cell off the table too aggressively and stormed to the car as if to prove to herself that he didn’t affect her. She wouldn’t let Griffin catch her. She would park down the road from the Reale Mansion and walk the rest of the way. Her presence would simply observe to ensure that nothing was overlooked or ignored. If she spotted something worth inspecting, she would text the Sheriff a lie, informing him she remembered it from a previous interview.

Justification fully in place, Bel drove the short distance to the edge of town and pulled her car off the road. The gorgeous morning air made the walk through the woods almost enjoyable, and when the ever-watchful gargoyles emerged from the treetops to condemn her presence, she tucked herself behind the branches and watched the chaos. The Reale Estate swarmed with uniforms, and she prayed they would find something.

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