Page 65 of Criminology of a Character

Eamon jokingly flexed his biceps for her benefit.

“I should get going,” she said. “But Ireallymiss you. Fix that company so you can flex for me in person.”

“Anything for you, Detective.”

“You’re annoying, you know that? I went for thirty-four years without you, and my life was fine. Then I meet you, and I get cranky when you’re gone for a few days. It’s frustrating.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Eamon leaned closer to his phone. “I love you. Seeing you on my screen isn’t enough. Even in that ridiculous shirt, you’re the most beautiful humanbeing.”

“What? You don’t like it?” She sat up and thrust her chest out so he could see how stupid it was. The drugstore’s selection was woefully thin, and since she had to buy something unflattering, she liked the idea of buying the worst one. “I think it’s sexy. I may buy more and make them my entire personality.”

“It’s so sexy I want to rip it off,” Eamon deadpanned. “Like rip, rip it off. No saving it. Into shreds, then right in the trash.”

She laughed at the image of him fighting the ugly shirt, but his smile faded as his eyes shifted to the top of his screen.

“I hate to hang up, but I have to go,” he said. “Please be safe driving home and text me when you get there. I won’t be able to call during my meetings, but I can read your texts.”

“I will. Hurry home to me.”

“It’s all I think about.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them to his phone, and Bel pretended to catch the kiss in her fist before popping into her mouth. He rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed his true feelings. “I love you, Isobel.” His black eyes flashed at his confession, and then he was gone, her screen cold and empty.

Bel made quick work of showering and leaving the motel, and after finding a coffee shop, she filled her tank with gas for the return trip, but an hour into her drive, a New York City sign caught her attention. If she remained on the highway, she’d enter Bajka’s town limits in a few hours, but if she took the exit, she could be at Charles Blaubart’s office by mid-afternoon. She had a mile to decide.Sixtyseconds to choose which directionshe would take, and at the last second, she swerved onto the exit. Using her Bluetooth connection, she dialed Agent Jameson Barry, but when he didn’t answer the phone, she spoke to his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Detective Emerson,” she said as she settled in for the long drive. “I might know who Hyde is.I have no proof,justasuspicion.I realize you can’t do anything with that, soI’m going tofind you proof. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“Do you have an appointment?”the receptionist asked with a lingering glance at Bel’s neck, and while the expression would’ve once made Bel wither, it now bounced off her skin without effect.

“No.” Bel leaned over the desk, shoving her scars further into the woman’s line of sight. After asking Violet to dogsit Cerberus for the day, she’d texted Olivia her idea, which was why she currently stood in Dr. Blaubart’s office. She needed to start somewhere if she was going to prove Anne was Hyde, and since Charles had expressed an interest in working on her scars, Bel figured they’d get her in the door. She wasn’t sure what evidence to look for, but perhaps she could invite the Blaubarts to dinner. Anything left in public was fair game, and she could at least start with Anne’s prints and DNA.

“I’m sorry, but Dr. Blaubart is very busy… and expensive.” The receptionist glanced at Bel’s outfit as if she was allergic to anything without a label. Bel had changed out of the graphic tee, but her clothes were those of a detective visiting grieving parents, not a woman who could afford Blaubart’s services.

“He doesn’t have any available appointments either. I’m sorry,” she said, staring at Bel expectantly, her eyes hardening when the detective didn’t budge.

“Tell him Isobel Emerson is here to see him,” Bel said.

“The doctor doesn’t have?—”

“Isobel Emerson,” Bel cut her off. “Please.”

The receptionist opened her mouth, but seeing the authority on Bel’s face, she grabbed her desk phone. She announced Bel’s presence, and within minutes, Dr. Blaubart strode into the waiting room.

“Detective.” He extended a hand, his eyes curious and his smile eager. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I’m not in trouble, am I?” He winked as if he liked that idea.

“No.” Bel accepted his hand, thankful that money hadn’t affected Eamon the way it did Charles. Some women might enjoy his suave personality, but it drove her crazy. She preferred quiet and predatory. “I’m here because, at Wendy’s wedding, you mentioned you could reduce the scarring on my throat. I couldn’t afford the procedure then, but Eamon has expressed his willingness to pay for the surgery, so I figured I’d come for a consultation.”

“That’s excellent, Detective, but you should’ve called. My schedule is packed, and this is a long trip to make on a whim.” He regarded her with suspicion.

“I have the weekend off,” Bel said. “You mentioned on the island that you worked Saturdays to keep up with your client list, and with my caseload, who knows when I’ll get another chance?”

“Right, I saw the news about that serial killer,” he said. “I agree. It’s hard to make appointments when you work investigations like that.” He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “I was with a patient when you showed up, but I’m almost finished. How about you wait in my office, and I’ll find a few minutes to chat?”

“Perfect,” Bel said as he led her down the corridor. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course. Dr. Victors did outstanding work on your throat, but I can’t turn down the opportunity to show him up,” Charles laughed.

“Well, if you can reduce my scarring, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, I absolutely can.” He opened his office door, and Bel wondered what made him so confident in his skills that he promised to do something she knew doctors couldn’t do. Scars were permanent, and hers were pale pink and almost delicate now. What could Blaubart do except make a bigger mess of her skin?

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