Page 48 of Criminology of a Character

“No, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Bel grabbed her jacket and walked out into the parking lot, freezing in her tracks when she noticed the familiar black sedan sitting beside her car.

“I saw you on the news,” Eamon said as he stepped out of his vehicle. “After those questions, I figured you could use some cheering up.” He opened the back door, and Cerberus launched himself at her, racing over the pavement so fast that she had to brace for impact.

“Baby Beast!” she squealed as she caught him in her arms, and the extra weight made her teeter until Eamon steadied her. “I needed this.” She buried her face in her dog’s neck, and for a long moment, she let him squirm as she cuddled him.

“He’s fine staying with me, but then you came home last night, and he’s been moody ever since,” Eamon said, and when she twisted up to look at him, he pressed a kiss to her lips.

“My poor boy.” Bel leaned on Eamon’s chest to keep from dropping the seventy-pound pitbull. “I feel bad. I hate not being with him.”

“He misses Mom.” Eamon scratched the dog’s head. “We have lots of fun together, but it’s not the same without you. I can see you on the news, but he can’t, so I brought him to cheer you up. I also figured you needed lunch.”

“I do.” Bel placed her dog on the ground and rose onto her toes to give Eamon a proper kiss. “Let’s walk to the deli and grab sandwiches. Cerberus will enjoy walking more than driving.”

“I’m down for that.” He grabbed her hand, and the trio left the parking lot. “You are gorgeous on the news, but I prefer real-life Isobel Emerson… although that cameraman and reporter are testing my patience.”

“The ones who lunged out at me during the press conference?” Bel asked.

“They’re the same men who bothered you at the barn. Twice I’ve caught him being a little too aggressive toward you, and I’m seconds away from dealing with him myself. I understand reporters are doing their job and this is an unsettling case, but I don’t like the way he keeps coming after you.”

“He’s probably just trying to increase the ratings.” She shrugged.

“Possibly. Or you have an admirer, but honestly, if he doesn’t back off, we’re going to have a discussion.”

“I was trying to avoid him, but was he really that bad?”

“He pays attention to you and only you,” Eamon said. “It’s like he’s fixating on you.”

“Fixating,” Bel repeated, yanking him to a stop. “It can’t be that simple, can it?” Her eyes flashed to Eamon’s, and she grabbed his face, kissing him triumphantly. “You’re a genius.”

“What if he’s a cameraman?”Bel burst into Griffin’s office, lunch forgotten.

“Babe, I’ll call you back.” Griffin hung up the phone. “Who’s a cameraman?”

“The Matchstick Girl Killer.” She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the couch, leaning forward as she sorted through her newly formed theory. “We wondered if he worked for the electric company because of the siphoned power and the work vans’ anonymity, but there’s another profession that involves vehicles no one would question—a reporter. A random car in the middle of the night might raise suspicions, but people rarely question news vans. Reporters travel at all times of the day because news doesn’t wait for business hours.

“Plus, we’re looking for someone who’s always around but never noticed. Someone who likes to watch from the shadows. People recognize reporters, but never the cameramen. They sit behind their cameras, their faces hidden as the world watches what they want us to see. They aren’t threatening because they’re faceless observers. People even jump into their shots for a chance to appear on TV.”

“That would explain the freezer’s camera,” Griffin said. “Always the observer, even for his own murders.”

“Exactly. Reporters and cameramen also travel for their stories. The Matchstick Girls aren’t his first victims. The scene was too organized. He practiced his kills first, and we both know the murder rate and cold cases in this town are far too low. He didn’t kill close to home until he had a system, until he knew what he liked, and he used the cover of his news van to slip unseen and unsuspected through his hunting ground.”

“A cameraman certainly makes sense. Where did you get this idea?” Griffin asked. “Are you imagining different scenarios or did something happen, because I can’t get a warrant because of your imagination, no matter how convincing it is?”

“I don’t have evidence.” Bel sagged against the couch. “It was something Eamon said. When we left Walker’s property that night, a cameraman got a little aggressive with me. He shoved the camera in my face and was hounding me with questions. I assumed he was just eager to get an edge on his competitors, but then during your press conference, the same cameraman came after me.”

“Was he the one I shielded you from?”

“Yes,” Bel answered. “Eamon saw him lunge for me on the news, and the aggression alarmed him. He felt the man was fixating on me. That’s what gave me the idea. Killers often return to the scene of their crimes to watch the investigation unfold,and in a case this prolific, who better to observe us undetected than a cameraman?”

“So, your hunch is because your boyfriend didn’t like the way another man looked at you?” Griffin asked, and Bel blinked at her boss. Surely, he didn’t think Eamon’s concern was petty unfounded jealousy, and she opened her mouth to correct his assumption, but the sheriff stood up, effectively silencing her.

“That’s good enough for me.” He snatched his phone and keys from his desk. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

“I don’t knowhow helpful the staff will be without a warrant. We’ll have to be subtle about our questioning,” Griffin said as he and Bel jumped out of his truck. “If you’re right about the cameraman being our guy, he’ll run at the first whiff of suspicion.”

“We should ask about the possibility of airing the Jane Doe images on the evening news so the public can help identify them,” Bel said. “We don’t have to follow through, but that might loosen tongues. That kind of segment would skyrocket ratings.”

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