Page 9 of Forensics of a Fable

“Your property?” Bel stepped back in shock.

“Yes, Detective. You and your coworkers are currently swarming the Reale Estate. These woods belong to me, as does that cabin.”

“This is your property?”Bel retreated another step, escaping Eamon’s gravity with a frustrated curse. “Eamon, if you killed that girl, so help me, God.”

“I had nothing to do with this, Detective.” He lunged forward, erasing the distance she’d placed between them. “I am evil, but I’m not the evil you seek.” His large hand slipped into her hair, tightening around her dark strands as he gently forced her to look up at his towering height. “Do you really think I would kill a woman and leave her on my property? Do you really think I would risk your disapproval? I know the price of losing your trust, and it is a sum I am unwilling to pay. I did not do this. Besides, I can smell her blood rotting inside her veins.”

“This is your land, and everyone witnessed you flirting with her at the fundraiser.” Bel stared defiantly up at him.

“She flirted with me,” he emphasized. “You know full well who my eyes belong to.” His fist tightened around her hair as if to remind her who he wanted, who he craved.

“Doesn’t matter. People saw you together and now she’s dead.” She studied his death-black eyes, wondering what would happen if she caved to his hold and leaned into his chest. His grip on her hair was firm but not cruel, dominant but not controlling, and it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from binding them together in any way she would allow. It would be so easy to surrender to him, to press her cheek against his heart and let his strength steal her away, but she held her ground, allowing him to take nothing else from her.

“Two bodies,” she said, her tone softening. “Two lives stolen by a single day, and while one looks to be an accident, my gut tells me the other threatens darkness. Eamon…” Her voice fell to a whisper, as if she was afraid to speak the words out loud. “I think it’s happening again, and I’m not ready. I can’t do this. I can’t witness this level of horror again.”

He looked down at her with an unreadable expression, and Bel clenched her lips shut, unsure why she’d confessed that to him. Maybe it was the way his hand twisted in her hair with protective possessiveness. Maybe it was because his touch felt too gentle to belong to a monster. She shouldn’t trust him. She should step away, but her feet carried her an inch forward, the closeness her stubborn way of admitting that life felt safer in his presence.

“No one will harm you,” he whispered, his expression still unreadable. “No one will touch you.”

“There are more ways to hurt a human than to wound their body.” She sighed, stepping away from him. She needed to get back before someone came looking for her. “I moved here toescape death, yet it follows me like an old friend. Anyway, you should go before Griffin notices you. As it is, you’ll become a person of interest when they learn she flirted with you before dying on your property. She didn’t appear to have any ID on her. Do you know her name?”

“Alana Drie.” His stoic face remained frozen with a blank expression, making Bel shift on edge. This whole day had her on edge, and his presence made it worse. It was as if a war waged inside her every time he was near, and each meeting chipped at her resolve to keep him at an arm’s length.

“Thank you.” She turned to walk away.

“Isobel?” Eamon said, halting her retreat, and she looked back at him. He fell silent as he studied her face, but then he retreated as if rethinking his reason for stopping her. “I’ll be close by if you need me.”

Then he slipped into the shadows and disappeared.

It tookall Eamon’s willpower to let her walk away. Every fiber of his inner predator raged for him to capture his detective in his arms and hide her away in safety. He longed to steal her from here and guard her in his mansion, especially after her whispered confession. She had trusted him enough to admit her feelings, but he’d been helpless to comfort her.

He cursed, his canines aching for blood. The scent of the hiker’s death mixing with the fragrance of Bel’s skin was almost too much to bear, and he longed to rip something apart. To sink his teeth into whoever made his detective afraid.

Eamon snarled, settling into the shadows to watch her work. He’d almost admitted something dangerous when he stopped her from leaving, but sanity had seized control, stopping him.He couldn’t say it. She wasn’t ready, but oh, how he longed to rip himself open and hide her away from the world, to shield her from life’s pain as he reminded her who she belonged to

“The stationjust sent over a photo of Alana Drie’s driver’s license,” Bel said, handing her phone to Sheriff Griffin. After her conversation with Eamon, she tried to pretend he wasn’t watching and called the station with the brunette’s name after Lina confirmed her suspicions. There was no ID on the body, and Eamon’s declaration that her blood remained in her veins had proven true.

“That’s definitely the girl in the cabin,” the sheriff said as he studied the photo. “Her address is located in the next town over. How did you know who she was?”

“She was at The Espresso Shot’s fundraiser,” Bel half lied. “We’ll notify the family as soon as we’re done here.”

“I’ll schedule the autopsy for first thing tomorrow morning,” Lina said as her team wheeled Alana’s body out of the cabin, saving Bel from further questions. “With no obvious cause of death, I can’t say if this was a murder or suicide, so I’m hoping we’ll learn what happened to this poor girl once I get her open.”

“I hope so,” Bel agreed. “I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you tomorrow.” Thum left the scene, and Bel turned back to the cabin, and catching Gold’s puzzled face, she raised her eyebrows in a question.

“The furniture,” Olivia answered. “The roughness and size lead me to believe it was handmade, but why the oversized décor? Why make her look like a doll? I realize we can’t rule anything out yet, but that seems like an odd suicide. But if it’s murder, what is the killer trying to say?”

Bel’s stomach cramped. Not long ago, she’d asked why victims were being transformed into furniture and what the killer was attempting to convey. “Maybe Alana’s family will have some insight. Hopefully, we find something in either the autopsy or the scene.”

“From the state of that cabin, we won’t find much of use,” Gold said. “There are years of filth and decay in there.”

“There might not be useable evidence, but that fact points to murder.” Bel hated the words coming from her mouth, and it was Olivia’s turn to quirk her eyebrows in a question.

“If Alana Drie did this, there would be signs of her disturbance. She would have had to walk inside, so why were her feet clean and where are her footprints?” Bel gestured for her partner to follow her, and the two women settled in the doorframe. “Look at the floor. Those disturbances are from our investigation, but the only one present when I found the cabin was this mark by the door. If she took her own life, she would have left footprints in the dust, and I doubt this furniture was already here.” Bel swallowed at the idea that another case seemed to involve furniture. She didn’t want to consider the possibility of any other similarities with Alcina Magus’ murders. “The furniture’s wood is new, so it hasn’t been here long. Also, this cabin might be old, but it was built with skill. Whoever made this furniture did so recently and poorly. If she planned to commit suicide, where is the car that brought these pieces? Where is the note? Did she drag this stuff in here, scatter dirt to cover her tracks, and then float to the chair so she wouldn’t get dirty?”

Olivia cursed, paling slightly as reality set in. She had moved from a town smaller than Bajka. She wasn’t acquainted with death like Bel was, and Bel could tell by her new partner’s expression that she hadn’t expected to confront a homicide this soon or this severe.

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