Page 60 of Forensics of a Fable

“Smell what?”

Eamon turned on his heels without answering and strode deeper into the woods. They’d never been this far from his mansion, always splitting up to cover more ground, but this small stretch of forest was new to their search.

“Smell what?” Ewan repeated as he raced after him, but Eamon only picked up his pace. He started running like a man possessed, and as Ewan opened his mouth to ask again, it hit him. The stench of death.

Ewan cursed as their speed increased, but Eamon didn’t hear him. He heard nothing but the blood pumping through his ears. He felt out of control at the scent of decay, and panic burned through his veins like acid. It couldn’t be her.It couldn’t. It couldn’t.

It took them minutes to locate the source of the rot, and with wild hands, they tore at the earth. They dug with unnatural speed, alarm shocking their muscles, and then an arm appeared in the dirt. A corpse’s arm, and Eamon felt sick at the sight.

“It’s not her!”Ewan shouted, pulling the frantic Eamon away from the body. “It’s not her. It’s not Detective Emerson.”

Eamon cursed and stumbled away from the grave before doubling over. He thought he was going to vomit, and he gripped his knees with bruising force to stable himself. It wasn’t her. She wasn’t dead in the dirt.

“It’s a man,” Ewan said. “And he’s been dead awhile. I’ll call the police before we corrupt the scene further because I think I know who this is.”

It took Lina Thum and the police an hour and a half to arrive, the sun long gone. While far from town, the trails were wide enough for vehicles, most likely the reason this spot was the gravesite. Deputies and techs set up a perimeter complete withportable lights, and then everyone waited with bated breath as Lina examined the body.

“I have a wallet!” she shouted, shoving it at the sheriff. Everyone knew in their gut who this dead man was, and if his wallet proved it, it changed everything they knew about this case.

Griffin took it from her, and with gloved fingers, he pried it open to find the driver’s license. “Foley Locks,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “It’s Foley Locks.”

Lina cursed as she stared down at the decaying body. “The exposure to the elements makes it impossible to tell his exact time or cause of death. After the autopsy, I’ll narrow it down, but I can say with confidence, this man has been dead for weeks, which means he isn’t our killer. He doesn’t have Detective Emerson.”

Eamon ran his hands through his hair and turned to face the darkness. He hated that he had an audience to witness his unraveling, but with every passing second, Bel slipped further and further from his grasp.

“What were you both doing up here?” Griffin asked, suspicion and wariness written plainly on his face. “How did you find him?”

“We were looking for Detective Emerson,” Ewan answered for the struggling Eamon.

“This far from town? On foot?” Griffin glanced pointedly down at Ewan’s bare feet.

“We’ve been out here all day,” Ewan offered unconvincingly.

“Ewan has been kind enough to help me hike my property in search of Isobel,” Eamon said, forcing his emotions down as his predatory nature resumed control. “We’re athletic men. Hiking this far is easy, and on our return, we stumbled across this grave. We called you when we noticed the arm.”

“You just happened upon an arm in the woods?” the sheriff asked, unconvinced.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.” A hint of a threat seeped into Eamon’s voice.

“Or did you put him here?” Griffin didn’t back down, and Eamon respected the man for his challenge. “Is that why you knew where he was? Tell me, do you have Emerson? Did you take her and drag us out here to find Foley Locks as part of your sick game?”

“If I killed Foley Locks, you would’ve never found his body.” Eamon hovered threateningly over Griffin, who had the decency to look nervous. “And I don’t have Isobel, but mark my words, I will not rest until I do. I’m trying to help you, sheriff. You have my time, my money, my connections. All you need is to ask, and it’s yours. Might I suggest you stop accusing me of a crime I would never commit and find her?”

It would bea long night for the police, but Eamon and Ewan returned to the Reale Mansion after giving their statements. Picking up his car, Ewan left to spend the rest of his evening with Olivia, but Eamon simply stood before his front door in defeat. For all his power, he hadn’t protected Bel, and her scent had long since faded from his bed. It felt like a metaphor for her disappearance from his life, and he couldn’t bear going inside his unfinished house and picturing how she looked sleeping in his shirt that last night.

Eamon turned on his heels and jogged into the woods. Instinct took control of his body, and within minutes, he was standing outside Bel’s cabin. The lights were on, illuminatingher father moving about the kitchen. Griffin had called him after her disappearance, and the man had raced to Bajka to help. As a former chief of police, he was a valuable asset, but like Eamon, his skills proved useless. Bel was still missing, but her father had refused to leave. He’d set up camp in her cabin, taking Cerberus off Eamon’s hands, and while he knew it was best for the dog to be in his own home with a family member, Eamon hated giving him up. That pitbull was his last tie to Bel, and he ached to even just look at the animal.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna come inside?” Reese called, and Eamon jerked in surprise, realizing the man had opened the front door. Cerberus peeked out from between his legs, and the moment his dark eyes landed on Eamon’s death-black ones, he bolted out into the yard. He danced around Eamon’s legs, squatted to pee, and then danced some more until Eamon picked him up. He carried the seventy-pound animal into the house and offered Bel’s father a smile that failed to touch his eyes.

“I always think that dog is big until you stop by.” Reese rubbed Cerberus’ ears, but when Eamon refused to put the pitbull down, Reese registered his defeated expression. “No…please, no.”

“No, it wasn’t her,” Eamon finally spoke as he collapsed on the couch, placing a content Cerberus across his legs. “She’s still missing. I can’t find her.”

“What happened?” her dad twisted a kitchen chair to face the tiny living area and sank into it as if he was a deflating balloon.

---