Page 106 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Right… but this storm is shaping up to be worse than that one. Please be careful. No more car crashes, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.” Bel hugged the examiner goodbye but froze when her eyes landed on the computer screen. “Lina, what’s that?” She released the M.E. and stepped back toward the desk, jabbing her finger at a wide-shot photograph of the Jane Doe evidence.

“Oh... um…” Lina leaned closer to the photo. “The detectives found that necklace at the scene, but they weren’t convinced it belonged to the victim because of its location to the body.”

“Close, but not that close?” she asked.

“Something like that. It’s why the jewelry was never released to the public in case it alerted the killers that they’d been discovered.”

“Do you know what the pendant is?” Bel strained to make out the carving.

“There’s a closeup somewhere.” Lina leaned down and scrolled through the images. “I looked it up, though, andit’s a depiction ofSaint Anne… oh, here’s the photo. Saint Anne is the patron saint of different types of women,” she continued, oblivious to Bel’s sudden distress. “But most notable is that of grandmothers.”

Bel studied the enlarged engraving, and her stomach plummeted through her body when she saw the image. The alarmingly familiarimageof a saint reading a book to the child leaning against her lap. She’d seen this saint before, but it hadn’t been on a medallion. It had been a tattoo, and she’d just handed the actor they believed to be the next victim over to its owner.

Bel launched into a run,leaving a baffled Lina in her wake. She slid on the snow as she exploded from the morgue’s front door, cracking her knees on the sidewalk as she stumbled, but she was on her feet in seconds, tumbling with bruises and all into her SUV. She knew who the killer was, and she’d handed Beau Draven over to him. This storm was worse than the one that fell the night Gwen Rossa died, but it was a storm all the same—a perfect cover for a murder. No one would notice Beau Draven’s or Ethan Rollo’s absence until it was too late.

Bel smashed her car’s Bluetooth button, sending Eamon a silent thank you for gifting her a vehicle with all the bells and whistles, and ordered the automated voice to dial Griffin. Death grip on the steering wheel, she waited for him to answer, but when his cell went to voicemail three times in a row, she radioed dispatch.

“Has anyone seen Griffin?” she asked.

“There was a multi-car accident a few minutes ago, and he’s at the scene,” the operator said. “There are unconfirmed reports of casualties.”

“Oh god.”

“It’s awful,” the operator said. “Be careful out there, Detective. It’s getting bad.”

Bel gritted her teeth as she took a turn too fast and prayed that no one died in that crash.

“If I hear from him, I’ll tell him you called,” the woman said. “Do you want me to pass along a message?”

“Yeah…” Bel snapped her mouth shut. What if she was wrong? She couldn’t broadcast her theory about Rollo without proof. It would ruin him if she were mistaken. “Actually, no. Just tell him to call me.”

“Will do, Detective.”

“Thanks.” Bel slammed on her brakes, her SUV skidding to a stop outside the thrift store, and she launched herself out into the snow. “Mr. Draven?” she called as she burst through the front door. “Mr. Draven…? Excuse me.” She grabbed a production assistant’s arm. “Have you seen Beau?”

“You just missed him,” the man said. “Filming shut down early, and we’re just getting the last of the set packed up.”

“Was he with Officer Rollo?” she asked.

“Yeah, but they only left for the bed-and-breakfast a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks.” Bel raced back to her car, her shoulder slapping on the frame in her haste to jump into the driver’s seat. She gritted her teeth to keep from groaning as she threw the SUV into drive and surged down the coated street. She had time. She could still catch them.

Ten minutes later, though, the traffic ground to a halt. The red and blue lights of the squad car painted the snow-laden air, and realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere soon, Bel parked and jogged to the deputy directing the cars.

“What’s going on?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself to shield her chest from the piercing wind.

“Accident,” the deputy said. “The entire road is closed off. We’re rerouting people.”

“I heard that there might be casualties. Is that true?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s bad.”

Bel cursed as she peered behind the man. She’d never reach the inn using this street. She’d have to take the long way.

“Did you see Officer Rollo pass by here?” she asked.

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