Page 8 of Forensics of a Fable

“I don’t know.” She fought to keep her voice steady. Two lives had already been sacrificed to this day, and it was barely 8:00 a.m. She wasn’t ready for this. Not so soon after a witch had almost ripped her still-beating heart from her chest with magic.

Olivia fell quiet, and they stepped into the one-room cabin as if she sensed Bel needed to do this in silence. The women paused in the doorway, drinking in the scene, and it took a single glance for Bel to know. Evil had slipped back into Bajka, readying to plague the town with terror.

“Why…?” Olivia started, but her words faltered. “Why is the furniture like that?”

Bel had already noticed the abnormalities. Every piece was too big, the crude craftsmanship awkward and rough, but that wasn’t what caught her attention and held her rooted to the floor. She barely registered the giant chair that made the victim appear doll-like. She couldn’t focus on the enormous table or the massive wooden bowl and spoon sitting before the corpse. All she could see was the brunette staring lifelessly out at her. The same brunette who had flirted with Eamon Stone during The Espresso Shot Fundraiser.

“Why is this furniture so huge? It makes the victim look like a doll,” Olivia continued. “And why is she dressed like that?”

Bel’s gaze tracked her partner as Gold moved closer to the body, and a new breed of fear washed over her. There was no blood, no mess. She knew what Eamon was, what he drank. Had he done this?

Bel turned away, suddenly sick. He couldn’t have done this. She knew he was capable of such atrocities, but he understoodwhat a death like this in Bajka meant. If he’d killed this woman, Bel would have no choice but to hunt him down. He was well aware that she would never forgive this, and she struggled not to cry.Please, no. Please not Eamon.

“That’s weird,” Olivia said, oblivious to Bel’s silent panic attack. “You need to see this.”

Bel took a deep breath, forcing her emotions back into their cage, and she strode toward the body. The brunette sat like a toy, dressed in a white vintage nightgown. Her hair was styled and her face made up, giving her a porcelain appearance. There were no defensive wounds on her skin. No ligature marks or injection sights visible. Bel squatted, looking at the girl’s bare feet, but they showed no signs of dirt or abuse. It appeared as if the girl had simply sat in this too-large chair and died.

“What are you doing?” Gold peaked under the table to look her in the eyes. “It’s up here.” She pointed at the bowl above them.

“She didn’t walk up here,” Bel answered, standing up. “Or if she did, someone took her shoes. Her feet are clean.”

“All of her is clean,” Olivia added. “Her hair is done, as is her makeup, and this weird nightgown. She looks like she stepped out of some gothic fairytale.”

“No signs of a struggle or blood,” Bel continued. “We’ll need Lina to confirm lividity and such, but I believe she was posed premortem. Her body seems natural.” Bel pointed to the way the nightgown draped over her legs. “If someone had positioned her after she died, the fabric would be bunched, but this looks like she sat here herself.”

“So, she just walked to the middle of nowhere dressed like this and then sat down and died?” Gold pinched her eyebrows at Bel. “Where is her car? Where are her shoes? Was this a suicide or was she forced here, and why on earth is this furniture so large? This makes no sense.”

Bel bit her tongue, holding the retort inside. Those were her exact thoughts when she first saw Brett Lumen strung up like a human chandelier. Things rarely made sense when magic was at play, and she prayed another monster hadn’t slipped into their town limits. She hoped Eamon hadn’t become the predator she feared he was.

“Anyway, this was what I wanted you to see.” Olivia pointed to the giant wooden bowl and spoon. They looked like they had been designed to serve salad, the cutlery long to help toss what should have been greens inside, and Bel peered at the bowl’s contents. A thick, half-eaten porridge sat in the dish, the sticky lumps attracting flies, and Bel’s blood turned to icy shards in her veins.

“We’ll know more after the autopsy and testing, but…” Bel paused as sickness churned her gut, and she leaned in toward the girl’s mouth. She was careful not to touch the body, but she didn’t need to. Faint traces of the cereal coated the corner of the brunette’s lips. “I think she sat down at this table, ate, and then died.”

“Are you thinking…” Olivia trailed off as Sheriff Griffin and Lina Thum entered the cabin.

“That the food poisoned her?” Bel finished the sentence. “I believe so.”

Lina’s confirmationof lividity helped prove Bel’s theory. Regardless if this was a suicide or murder, her guess was right. The brunette had sat down in that chair alive and never moved. They would know more after the autopsy tomorrow, but Thum agreed with Bel. There were no defensive wounds or signs ofstruggle. No noticeable injection marks, so they bagged the cold porridge to test for trace evidence.

Bel stepped outside as the techs photographed, sketched, and documented the scene, and she couldn’t help but notice that in the Alcina Magus case, the crime scenes had been immaculately clean, offering no evidence, while these were so filthy from nature, she was certain they wouldn’t find anything of use.

Movement in the trees caught her eye, and gooseflesh pricked her skin. Dread pooled in her belly as she recognized the terror and anticipation sparking her nerves. Anger boiled over in her chest as his presence settled over her like a comforting fear, and Bel stormed for the half-hidden figure.

“You can’t keep stalking me,” she growled, low and savage. “This is an active crime scene, and you can’t just show up anytime you feel like it. If you don’t stop following me, I will arrest you.”

“Hello, Detective,” Eamon said, unbothered by her threats.

“You need to leave,” Bel spat. “How am I supposed to explain you stalking me to my colleagues?”

“No one will notice me,” he soothed, stepping into her personal space and shattering her boundaries. “I’m no fool. I know to hide when others are around you, and while I did catch your scent, I am not stalking you, my little detective.” He reached out and fingered a lock of her dark hair. “At least not at this moment.”

“Then why are you here?” She stared up at his towering height, trying to remain angry despite the overwhelming longing to lean into his touch.

“I smelled that hiker’s blood,” he answered, stepping closer until their chests almost touched.

“Of course you did.” She rolled her eyes. “Do you always come running when you detect human blood?”

“No, I’m not a savage.” He smiled, those sharp canines flashing seductively. “I have learned to control myself over the years, but when I smell death on my property, you best believe I will check it out.”

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