Page 52 of Criminology of a Character

Griffin jogged backto his truck and returned with gloves and an evidence bag. “Are you sure?” he asked as he picked up the dirty ladybug. “Are youabsolutelycertain this is Sarah Bristol’s earring?”

“Yes.” Bel snatched the bag and held it up to the sunlight. “The news showed a photo of her wearing these, and I remember thinking the earrings were extremelyprominent,as if oversized bugs were crawling on her ears. These are hers…” Her eyes jerked up to stare at the two-story house. “Sarah’s here.” Bel shoved the evidence at her boss and raced toward a rear window where the curtains hung an inch apart. “She’s in there. He has her.” She peeked through the space, but all she saw was a pristine beige couch.

Griffin cursed. “You swear this is Bristol’s?”

“Yes!” Bel tugged at the window in vain. It was sealed shut, and the fear racing through her was so violent she feared she’d be sick in the grass. “This monster has her. She’s in there!” She gazed at her boss on the verge of tears, desperation wafting off her to beg for help he couldn’t give.

Griffin stared at her with an unreadable expression, andthenhis spine stiffened. “Do you hear that?” he asked as he shoved the earring into his pocket and pulled his sidearm out of its holster. The neighborhood was silent, though, and Bel opened her mouth to ask what he meant.

“Someone’s screaming for help, right?” he cut her off before she could speak.

The realization dawned on her. “Yes.” She drew her weapon, and they aimed for the back door. “Yes… it’s a woman.”

“That’s probable cause.” Griffin squared off with the door, and with a powerful kick, he broke it open. “Bajka Police Department!” he shouted as he surged into the house, Bel protecting his rear.

“Clear.” He scanned the living room as she moved to the kitchen.

“Clear!” She stepped into the dining room, and together, they systematically searched the house. They moved as if in a dance, anticipating each other’s stepswith grace and efficiencyas they climbed to the second floor, but for all their finesse, the residence was empty. It was immaculately clean, not so much as a streak of dust marring the beige décor, and Griffin leaned against the wall with a curse.

“If Sarah Bristol was here, she’s long gone,” he said. “I wonder if she was his next Matchstick Girl, but we found his freezer before he could lock her inside. That would explain his leave of absence. He needed to get rid of her.”

“Maybe something here can tell us where he went.” Bel scanned the upstairs hallway, unsure where to start.

“We’re going to have a hell of a time explaining why we broke in.” Griffin ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Ireallyexpected to find her. I guess I was hoping she was in here. It would mean she wasn’t dead, but if he’s taken her somewhere else, I doubt she’s still alive.” He cursed again.

“We haven’t found a body, so there’s still a chance…” Bel trailed off, not believing her own words. When a victim was moved to a second location, their chances of survival were cut in half. Being transferred to a third location was a death sentence. “I can’t stand the thought of another young dead girl.” Unwelcomed tears threatened her eyes. “I can’t… what’s that?” She sidestepped the sheriff and walked down the hall until she stood below a scuttle attic door. “Griffin.” Her voice escalated as her brain processed what she was seeing. “It’s a lock. The attic is locked from the outside.” She whirled on him, her eyes wide as the reality of what that lock meant flooded her. “I think she’s up?—”

Bel’s words caught in her throat as the face that greeted her wasn’t the sheriff’s, but a stranger’s. He glared at her from over Griffin’s shoulder, his tall frame hovering on the stairs that had been empty seconds before, and for a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.Theysimplystared at each other as if neither knew whowas the predatorandwhowasthe prey.But then Griffin shifted to see what she was staring at, and all hell broke loose.

The stranger aimed a gun at Bel’s head, and before she could react, Griffin barreled into her, roaring as a gunshot echoed throughout the house. The bullet hit the wall, the impact inches from where her skull had been. Time slowed as they sailed through the air, but the moment they landed on the spare bedroom carpet, time sped up with alarming speed. Bulletssprayed the wall as the stranger pumped the hallway full of lead, and Bel screamed as wood splinters broke off with violent force. They rained down on her, the gunshots firing one after another, and Griffin seized her waist and pulled her protectively beneath him.

“Griffin!” she shouted his name as the bullets battered the wall. Not long ago, another man had shielded her with his body, only he was a monster not easily killed, and her boss was averymortal human. One disastrously placed bullet, and he would bleed out on top of her.

Griffin swore witha violenceshe’d never heard from him, and he leaned into the doorway and fired three shots of his own. “Move!” He rolled back to safety and shoved her away from the wall as their attacker paused his assault. “Get behind—ahh!” he roared, and everything inside Bel went cold. Not him. Not her boss.Please, please, please. Not him.

An explosion of gunfire drowned out her fear, but Griffin grabbed her waist and yanked her behind him before throwing himself to the carpet. He rolled to his side, the wall shattering as he landed in the doorway and fired.

Bel threw herself at him and seized his belt, but he pulled the trigger before she could drag him out of the line of fire. A grunt sounded, and the spray of bullets died as something crashed down the stairs.

“Griffin!” Bel’s fingers dripped red, and blood coated the carpet where it pumped from his leg. “Oh god.” She shoved her hands against his skin, her panic multiplying in her chest until she feared she would pass out. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t heal. He wasn’t Eamon, and the blood loss would kill him. This town had already seen so much death. She couldn’t lose this man, this second father she loved. She needed him. The darkness couldn’t have him.Not him, not him, not him.

“Isobel!”

Bel jerked backward as Griffin captured her face in his hands. He rarely called her by her first name, and with uneven breaths shaking her body, she realized she’d been speaking her fear aloud.

“Isobel, go!” he ordered. “Clear the house.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she argued.

“It’s a flesh wound.” He ripped his pants wide to reveal a gory but non-fatal gash.

“Oh god.” She collapsed forward, her forehead hitting his chest as the terror loosened its grip on her.

“It’s okay.” He cupped the back of her head and kissed her hair. “I’m okay, so I need you to clear the house.”

“Okay.” She stared down at her bloody hands, unable to move until he gripped her wrists and dragged them across the carpet to dry her palms. “Thank you,” shewhispered,andforcing herself to her feet, she grabbed her weapon and stepped out into the hallway. When the silence held, she slipped to the staircase and peeked around the railing just enough to see the ground level without exposing her head, but the precaution was unnecessary. Their attacker lay at the bottom of the steps, a bullet wound in his chest.

Bel holstered her gun and jogged down the stairs. She pressed her fingers against the man’s throat, but no pulse greeted her. She hadn’t expected one, though. Griffin’s aim had been dead center. There was no surviving that gunshot.

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