Page 52 of Forensics of a Fable

“No one stayed behind with her?”

“No… but Sheriff, she didn’t go far. She literally walked to the top of the hill, then turned around. I didn’t expect there to be trouble.”

“What trail did you take?” Eamon asked, and the deputy pulled out the map, pointing to their highlighted path. Without a word, Eamon whirled on his heels and stormed off into the darkness.

“Mr. Stone.” Griffin caught up and planted his muscular frame before him. He was a large and fit man, but his size was inadequate compared to the millionaire. Yet he held his ground without so much as a hint of fear. “You’re not a police officer. I appreciate your concern for Emerson, but I can’t have you wandering off into the dark by yourself.”

“Get out of my way,” Eamon spoke calmly, the low tone more terrifying than his rage.

“Mr. Stone—”

“I said get out of my way. You’re welcome to come with me, but I’m going after her.”

“Fine, but leave Cerberus. He needs medical attention.” Griffin turned and started barking orders at the deputies to complete a thorough head count and get everyone home safely.

“Sheriff?” Portia Cochons rushed toward the two men, a volunteer leading her through the crowd. “Someone told me a dog had been drugged?”

Eamon turned around, letting her catch sight of Cerberus, and she froze at the picture of the seventy-pound pitbull resting with a dazed expression in the large man’s arms as if he was nothing more than a puppy.

“That’s Detective Emerson’s dog,” she said, stepping closer to examine Cerberus’ eyes. “What happened?” She glanced between Eamon and Griffin, but when neither man spoke, horrified understanding dawned on her.

“He’s responsive, just groggy,” Portia said with forced calmness.

“I expect the killer hadn’t accounted for him when he took Isobel.” Eamon possessively hugged Cerberus to his chest. “He most likely dosed her and then used what little remained for the dog.”

“I’ll take him to Brick House for overnight observation and hold him in our kennel until they find Detective Emerson.” She extended her arms, but Eamon didn’t move.

“You’ll examine him, but when he receives a clean bill of health, I’ll pick him up.”

“You’re not his guardian,” Portia argued. “I cannot release the detective’s dog to you without her con—” Her words froze on her tongue as she registered the murder in Eamon’s eyes. “I will call you when he’s ready to go home,” she relented, and Eamon handed Cerberus off to the vet.

Without another word, he charged into the darkness, Griffin hard on his heels. Aggravation coated his skin at the sheriff’s presence. The man meant well, but Eamon moved faster alone. Bel knew his truth, but he couldn’t risk anyone else learning his nature, so he forced his pace to slow to a human speed. Thankfully, the sheriff kept up, and they made it up the trail without issue, despite the falling dark.

“There.” Eamon pointed to a disturbance on the path and Bel’s abandoned cell phone, but he didn’t need broken stems and branches to tell him what happened. The stench of Bel’s fear still clung to the dirt where she’d fallen.

“When you said the dog wasn’t fully sedated.” Griffin sidestepped Eamon warily so he could keep the man in front of him. “How did you know the killer wasn’t expecting the pet? You’ve been absent all day. Then you turn up with the pitbull, and Emerson is suddenly missing.”

“I was with Isobel all morning and knew she had Cerberus with her.” Eamon pinned the sheriff with a death glare. “Do you think I would be so stupid as to miscalculate?”

“I had to ask. Your reaction to her disappearance seems uncharacteristic. We’ve all but accused you of murder in the past, yet your temperament remained even, if not arrogant, but this sudden violence? I wonder if it’s all an act.”

“It only appears uncharacteristic because you don’t know me.”

“And if I did know you, would it explain why you’re suddenly so interested in my detective? Why you’re always at the center of our cases?”

“Yes.” Eamon followed Bel’s scent for a few paces before it vanished, the area muddled from the multitude of bodies who had passed through. He assumed whoever drugged her had picked her up, mixing her essence with his. If only Bel and the killer had walked these trails, he would be able to distinguish the killer’s scent, but the large team had polluted the forest with the smell of human flesh.

“Care to elaborate on your answer?” Griffin followed him.

“No.” Eamon studied the dark woods. “Can you get a car up here?”

“You think that’s how he transported her?”

“How else do you carry a woman down a mountain without anyone noticing?”

“Not this far up, no,” Griffin said. “But on the run up here, I noticed a few wider paths. I suppose he could have hidden a vehicle along the route.”

“Show me. Maybe the car is still there. If she’s unconscious, he might have left her until the volunteers dispersed. The deputies at the rendezvous believed everyone from her team was accounted for.”

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