Page 23 of Forensics of a Fable

“He’s a complicated man,” she said instead.

“He’s complicated, or your feelings for him are complicated?”

“You know, sometimes I wish you were like other dads who aren’t as observant.”

Her father released a booming laugh and extended a hand over the middle console like he used to when she was a child. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, slipping her palm into his as they began the drive home.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No… I don’t know. As I said, it’s complicated.”

“I’m not as good at this kind of stuff as your sisters, but I’m always here if you need help uncomplicating your feelings.”

“I would rather talk to you than them.” Bel smirked as they parked at her cabin. “Can you imagine me telling them about a man? They would lose their minds.”

“I don’t even want to picture that conversation. I love all you girls equally, but if I had one more boy-crazy teen, I would have gone insane, so thank you for being the daughter that gives me heart attacks for reasons other than men.” Reese parked and then pulled her into a hug, and Bel was glad her dad was finally at the place where they could joke about her past. For months after her attack, he couldn’t look at her throat without breaking down.

The second Bel unlocked the front door, Cerberus exploded out to greet them, and they spent the rest of the evening taking him for a long walk before getting ready for bed. The entire night, Bel felt uncomfortable, but it wasn’t until she dimmed the lights and heard her dad snoring that she realized why she felt off. Eamon wasn’t outside watching her. She sensed it in the air'semptiness, in the dark loneliness. She understood the reason for his absence. Her father had taken up the guardian’s mantel for the night, but she still hated the stillness in the woods. She contemplated texting him, but considering how much wine she’d consumed, she shoved her phone aside and fell asleep.

What seemed like ten minutes later, her phone rang and she rolled over, bumping into her dog as she fumbled for the cell. Her dad grunted on the couch, and she squinted at the red numbers on the microwave. 6:53 a.m. Her alarm was set to go off in a few minutes, so why was it ringing now?

“Hello?” Her rough voice answered the call as Reese sat up and looked at her.

“Emerson?” Sheriff Griffin’s voice sent a chill down her spine, and she bolted upright on the mattress.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered into the phone so low it was inaudible.

“There’s another body.”

Bel jumped out of bed,her father promising to take care of Cerberus as she raced into the bathroom. She took a five-minute shower, and when she emerged dressed in a fresh pair of clothes, Reese had a slice of peanut butter toast and a coffee thermos waiting for her. She kissed him goodbye, wishing he could come with her, and got in her car within fifteen minutes of the sheriff’s call.

She followed the GPS to the location Griffin gave her, realizing just how far they were from civilization as the trails wound endlessly through the trees. This scene was in the opposite direction of Alana Drie’s, and she was thankful her father had the foresight to make her coffee and breakfast. This far from town? It would be a long day.

The trail narrowed, and she parked as the sheriff sped up behind her. He jumped out of his vehicle the second it stopped moving, and Bel heard the faint blare of sirens growing closer.

“Who found the body?” she asked as Griffin strode for her.

“Portia Cochons.” He gestured to a woman and a German Shepherd waiting on the trail. Bel hadn’t noticed her standing there, and she scanned the clearing for the woman’s car. Only hers and the sheriff’s were present, though, which meant Portia Cochons had come from somewhere else.

“I want to talk to her while we wait for the rest of the team,” Bel said, and Griffin nodded his agreement as they made their way toward the woman.

“Portia.” Griffin shook her hand. “This is Detective Isobel Emerson. She has a few questions for you.”

“Of course.” The woman shook Bel’s hand. She looked to be in her early forties, her body thin and athletic in her workout gear. “I’m Portia Cochons, and this is Wolf.” She scratched the German Shepard’s head, and Bel guessed he was around two years old. “I own Brick House Veterinary.”

“Brick House?” Bel repeated. “That’s why your name sounded familiar. I have a wellness visit scheduled with your clinic.”

“Cat or dog?” Portia asked.

“Pitbull,” Bel said. “Cerberus.”

“Oh right, I recognize that name,” Portia said. “I always remember the dogs over the humans. Hazard of the job, I guess.” She laughed, but the forced sound told Bel she was trying to mask her panic over finding the body.

“Can you describe what happened this morning?” Bel changed the subject.

“Of course… sorry, as a vet, I’m used to blood and death, but I’ve never seen anything like this,” Portia said.

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