Page 36 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Emerson.” Griffin stopped it for her. “You can theorize all you want, but without proof, we are at a stalemate. We found nothing else designed by Lumen at the Reale Estate. Not even a footstool, so unless Eamon’s hiding the pieces somewhere on his acres of property, we can’t do anything. The warrant only covered his house because of the piano key, and even that barely convinced the judge. If we hadn’t lost three officers, I doubt he would have granted us one.”

“Okay, so who else in town has carpentry abilities?” Bel refused to let it go.

“Emerson…”

“Please,” she begged. “Is there someone else?”

“Abel Reus’ father made furniture as a hobby years ago, but before you get too excited, he passed away. Abel didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He works at a bank. Doesn’t have a single handy bone in his body.”

Bel shifted through her memories, trying to picture the crowds at each scene. She had theorized that the killer was closely following the investigation. Had Abel been present at all three crime scenes? He had helped her at The Espresso Shot, but she couldn’t remember the exact faces of those at Lumen’s Customs. By the time they found Legat, it seemed the entire town had congregated to watch. He might have been there… as well as Emily’s husband, Violet, Vera, Eamon, Garrett, the two deputies who were murdered, Saltz and Marcus, along with every other vaguely familiar face.

“Could he have furniture left over from when his father was alive?” she asked.

“I’ll look into it,” Griffin promised. “I’m going to take another pass at Cassidy’s apartment, too. I won’t stop until I find something.”

“I hate this.” Bel eased her car onto the road. “I hate sitting on the sidelines. I should be helping you.”

“I know.” Her boss sounded almost defeated. “But I can’t allow you back on the case. Not when you and Garrett were dating.”

“It was only—” Bel started.

“Doesn’t matter, and you know it. You were too close to him. Any prosecutor worth his salt will paint you as an unreliable investigator.”

“It’s because I was his friend that I should be the one finding his killer.” She was careful to avoid the term the Sheriff had labeled their relationship with.

“That’s why I’m keeping you in the loop, Emerson.” Griffin’s voice softened. “Don’t make me regret that decision.”

“I won’t.” Bel turned off the winding road toward her house, hoping that his last comment didn’t mean he had spotted her car. “I’ll let you go.”

“Sounds good, and Isobel?” The way he said her first name made her insides go cold. “I never said it at the station, but I am sorry for your loss. I realize finding him like that was the worst thing a girlfriend could see. I’m so very sorry.”

Bel fought back the tears, but their will was stronger than hers. “Thank you.” She hung up, unable to talk about it. Concentrating on the case, on the guilt gave her purpose, but when she remembered the bloodless body of the first man she had kissed in years, the memory eviscerated her.

* * *

Bel spentthe rest of the day toggling between avoiding her emotions and visualizing every face from her crime scene memories until all their features blurred together. Without the case photos, she couldn’t confirm Abel’s presence at any of the scenes save Kaffe’s, and even if she had access to those, they wouldn’t accurately represent the entire day. Spectators came and went. Parents, loved ones, elderly neighbors. They had drifted in and out on the tide of curiosity, but as Bel finally fell asleep, a thought of absolute certainty flickered in her brain. Almost every resident of Bajka had appeared at each crime scene to watch with horrified nosiness, except for Eamon Stone. He had been noticeably absent at all save for Legat’s, and as sleep claimed her, Bel felt that his absence was more damning than his presence.

Teeth tore into her skin,ripping her wide as the scent of blood and sweat filled her nostrils. The pain was excruciating as they flayed her open, starting at her throat and trailing down her breasts to her stomach. The pain was fire and ice, like burning coals and frozen metal. She screamed until her voice was hoarse, until her body no longer possessed the strength to scream, and then she surrendered to the darkness. It wouldn’t be long now. She would wake up. She always woke up when the teeth carved into her.

Yet she didn’t wake. She lay there in a pool of her own blood and fear, her vision blurring, her hearing dulling. Hands pinned her to the ground, breaking bones, bruising flesh, bursting veins, and then the teeth dragged back up her body to dig into her throat. Agony exploded in her neck, but she was too weak to fight. She would die this time. She knew it in those final moments as her attacker sliced her open wider. If she died in the dream, would she die in reality? Had she died that night, and Bajka was simply her own personal purgatory? The pain was so intense it ceased to exist. She was dying. This was her end.

And then the teeth halted their carnage. Her skin stopped ripping in painfully wet tears, and her attacker surged away from her body, leaving her suddenly cold in his absence. She couldn’t see him, her sight almost dark, but the massive form hovered over her as if at war with itself. It twitched and growled, fighting an unseen battle. And then he lowered his face to hers, breathing in her scent with a bloodied nose and lips. That’s when she saw them. Eyes she knew all too well. Eyes that haunted her nights and stalked her days.

Bel jerked awake so violently, Cerberus grunted in surprise before crawling closer to her. She instinctively reached for him, wrapping her arms around his comforting mass. She buried her nose in his fur and inhaled, her nightmare shaking her to her core. It was unlike the previous ones. The second those razor-sharp canines shredded her skin, she always woke, but this time, the nightmare had continued. Only Bel knew it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory; one she had repressed until this moment. Her attacker had left her for dead, but his sudden disappearance had confused the detectives working her case. The signs on her body pointed to him wanting to watch her die, to ensure he killed her, but then, without warning, he vanished, allowing her the chance to survive. Bel always assumed something interrupted him, but she realized that wasn’t the truth. Her attacker intended to bleed her dry, but as if a conviction clicked in his brain, he forced himself to leave her. She had been barely conscious, but she saw his struggle, witnessed the battle of wills playing out in the black eyes hovering over her.

The New York City detectives never found her assailant. He had vanished without a trace, and since the trauma caused her memory loss, they had nothing to go on. But there was no mistaking those Hell black eyes now. She craved them, feared them, hated them, wanted them. She knew who her attacker was, and he had followed her to Bajka.

Bel bolted from the bed, pulling on clothes before snapping a leash on Cerberus’ collar. It was the middle of the night, but she couldn’t wait. She couldn’t sit idly by as her attempted murderer plagued the innocent lives of this town. She didn’t care how long it took, but she was done playing defense, done being the prey. It was her turn to become the predator, and if she had to sit outside his haunted mansion every night to catch a break in this case, she would. Let Eamon Stone see how much he enjoyed being hunted like a beast.

Bel pulled a confused but willing Cerberus into her car before driving into the darkness. Without Garrett, the dog was the closest thing she had to a partner, and she had the sudden urge to train him as a police canine. He was the only man she genuinely trusted besides her father. Deputizing him would ensure that someone who loved her always guarded her back.

The empty roads delivered her to the desolate edge of town, and she turned the headlights off as she approached The Reale Estate so as to not alert Eamon of her presence. If she was lucky, she might catch him leaving on his way to destroy another life. She parked among the trees, ensuring she had a direct line of sight to his dark mansion, and she settled down to wait. For five minutes, Cerberus stared out the window, hoping they were at the park, but when he realized Bel had no intention of opening the car door, he curled his muscled body into a ball on the back seat.

Bel reached behind her, rubbing her fingertips over his short fur as she watched the lifeless house. The gargoyles perched high above glowered at her with callous intensity in the darkness. They appeared alarmingly alive in the dim moonlight, demons guarding their dark lord, and gooseflesh raced over her flesh. How could anyone willingly live in this monstrosity? Evil practically oozed from its pores.

The clock read 2:45 a.m. before her heart rate slowed enough for her anxiety to ease, but the overbearing sense of dread never truly left her as she—

Bel jerked with a start, blinking rapidly until the red lights on the dashboard stopped looking like electric cotton balls.3:18 a.m.She had foolishly fallen asleep, and she leaned forward in her seat, rubbing her eyes. She should have packed a thermos of coffee and snacks to help her stay awake. An unconscious half-hour gave Eamon plenty of time to slip out unnoticed.

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