Page 43 of Forensics of a Fable

“He isn’t here,” Bel told her dog, her eyes snagging on the trees Eamon and the bear had destroyed, and she smiled, realizing why Cerberus seemed excited. Eamon hadn’t been lying when he promised to take care of the disaster. He’d cut all the broken stumps down, pulling them up by the roots and chopping them into firewood for her cabin. He had then placed a wooden bench in the clearing and planted some flowers and bushes, giving Bel her own mini garden. Cerberus must have watched him work through the windows and assumed he was still there.

“I can’t believe he accomplished that in one day,” she said to the pitbull. “He’s helpful to have around…” she trailed off, a sudden idea popping into her head. “Come on buddy, I promised to keep you close, so you’re going to have to tag along.” She rushed inside to feed him, throwing cold turkey and cheese between slices of bread for herself while he ate, and then the two of them piled into her car. They arrived at the Reale mansion in record time due to the late hour, and parking in front of the entrance, she ignored the hovering gargoyles on the roof as shepounded on the ornate door. Silence answered her, and when seconds passed with no sign of life, she lifted her fist to knock again.

“Detective.” Eamon opened the door so fast, her hand fell on empty air, and she squeaked in surprise at his sudden appearance. His hair was soaked, and his chest was bare, his body clothed only in a pair of grey sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. She had obviously interrupted his shower, and he smirked, leaning seductively against the doorframe. “Did you like the garden I left for—what’s wrong?” All playfulness disappeared from his face, and he leaned down with concern. “What happened?”

“We think the killer took my partner,” she answered, and with lightning-fast reflexes, Eamon pulled her and the dog inside, locking the door behind them. “I received this in the mail this morning, and then Gold never showed up for work. Her car and phone were in the station parking lot, and I think he has her. I think she’s his next victim.” She held out her phone for him to see the photo of the card and its three terrifying lines.

“You got this this morning?” Eamon’s voice was dangerously cold, full of harsh edges and razor-sharpness. “Where was I?”

“The mailman delivered it while we were drinking our coffee, but I didn’t check until you left.”

Eamon ran a hand through his wet hair with a force that told Bel guilt was gnawing at him for leaving her alone.

“Eamon, technically you’re a person of interest in this case, and you aren’t police, so I shouldn’t be here.” She gripped his arm with desperation, and his body went unnaturally still at her touch. “I shouldn’t be showing you this card or sharing these details with you, but I can’t lose another partner. I can’t, so please. I need your help.”

“I need your help.”Four words. Four words to undo him and carve his ancient heart into aching pieces. He would give her the world, his heart, his life, and Eamon stepped forward and slipped his hand around the back of her neck, curling his fingers through her hair. He needed to touch her, to know she was safe and unharmed, for her fear was breaking him. Her suffering was the worst form of torture, and he would bleed himself dry if only to make her pain stop.

“What do you need?” His voice was low, the predator coiling through his words.

“If the killer has Olivia, then we can only assume he’ll kill her and place her in a cabin on your property. Do you recognize the cabin on the card? Could it be a replica of one on this estate?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“God, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he keeps them sedated but alive for a while after he takes them, then forces them to eat porridge with Pentobarbital in it.” Bel’s words poured from her mouth, and with every uttered syllable, his grip on her tightened, drawing her closer until her chest was a breath away from his. “We think he doesn’t enjoy watching his victims die, which is why he gets them to eat it themselves.” She craned her neck to look up into his eyes, and his expression hardened so she wouldn’t see the agony her fear bloomed in him. “Gold might still be alive. She has to be alive, but I can’t find her. I have no idea where she is, and your property is huge. I need you. I need what you are.”

Eamon let go of her and stormed upstairs. He realized his sudden departure confused her, but if he didn’t walk away, he would do something foolish like kiss the pain from her full lips, like carry her up into his room and lock her inside so no one could ever harm her. She didn’t understand the intensity with which he craved her. Craved her blood, her scent, her touch, her body. He wanted all of her. Her mind, her love, her desire, and he couldn’t bear her suffering. Eamon Stone did not feel fear. He was an alpha predator, evil unmatched, yet the moment that beauty crashed into his life, he spent every day afraid. Afraid of losing her, of hurting her, of destroying her.

He stormed into his closet and pulled a shirt over his head. He then grabbed socks and sneakers before venturing into the kitchen for a flashlight. When he finally returned to the foyer and his gorgeous detective, the small reprieve from her beauty had done nothing to cool his reaction.

“Come.” He extended a hand, and when she took it, he laced his fingers through hers. He led her out into the darkness, flipping on the light as he paused. He inhaled a deep breath of the night air. The scent of her was overwhelming, that samehint of danger that alarmed him still lingering on her skin, but he pushed past it to what lay beyond in the trees. He scented nothing, but he would. He wouldn’t fail her.

“We’ll find your partner,” he promised, his grip tightening on her fingers. “And you never have to ask for my help. You always have it. No matter the danger, no matter the request, you have it.”

Cerberus thoroughly enjoyedtheir midnight hike, but Bel ached, exhaustion settling deep into her bones. Eamon tried to reign in his pace for her, but his true nature drove them at a speed her tired body struggled to maintain. She didn’t complain, though. She needed him. She needed to find Olivia, and with every passing minute, her anxiety grew. The killer historically disposed of his victims within twenty-four hours, and Gold had been gone longer than that. Bel clung to Eamon as he dragged her through the darkness, hoping against hope that this time would be different, that the girl with the porridge would be found alive. She couldn’t handle seeing her partner’s face staring unseeingly at her as she sat in some disgusting shed, clothed in a nightgown.

“I detect something human,” Eamon whispered. “It’s faint, though. They haven’t been here in a while.” He tugged her through the trees, guiding her and the dog with care so they wouldn’t trip.

“Olivia? Is it her?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve caught your partner’s fragrance on your skin,” he answered. “This scent is old, but it bears no similarity to hers. Perhaps the killer scoped this area out but has yet tobring her here. The women always died at the crime scenes, which means if this is his next site, she’s likely still alive.”

“She has to be,” Bel said. “I can’t go through that again. I’m not as close with her as I was with Garrett, but I care about her.”

“We’ll find her.”

“But what if we don’t? What if I fail another partner?”

“You won’t.”

“But….”

“You won’t, Isobel. I’ll rip this town apart if I have to, but you won’t.”

“Thank you for doing this. I know it’s a long shot, completely against police protocol, and late, but thank you.”

Eamon grunted as if he was pleased by her unnecessary gratitude and pulled to a stop. “There. A cabin.”

“Oh god,” Bel whispered into his biceps as she clung to him, terrified of what they might find.

---