Page 59 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Well, you’re the man who lied to my best friend and made her hate me,” Bel said, not backing down. “And I’ve experienced the repercussions of mistakenly assuming someone was harmless.”

“I know. I was there alongside Eamon, searching for you. I saw the accident where you supposedly died, and I held Olivia as she sobbed. You’ve faced unspeakable darkness, but I’m not it. I’m trying to win Olivia back. Do you think murdering women would help my cause?”

“No,” Bel conceded. “It wouldn’t. Could there be another shifter in town?”

“I don’t know,” Ewan said. “New people flood Bajkaevery day, and I keep detecting inhuman scents. Nothing crazy, just your garden variety supernaturals, which is to be expected with this kind of show, so it’s possible. Eamon would be the bettermanto ask since his senses are superior to mine.”

“So you haven’t encountered other bears?” she asked.

“Not that I’ve detected.”

“I’m sorry, Ewan.” She finally released his arm. “I am, but life has been chaos lately. Every time I step into the cold, I’m back on that mountain being shot at by Blaubart. Olivia won’t talk to me. I just learned the truth about Eamon’s past. And now women are being ripped apart on my boyfriend’s property. So, I apologize for not behaving with more decorum, but I needed to prove it wasn’t you. To look you in the eyes and see your breakup hasn’t driven you mad.”

“Oh, it’s driving me mad, but not to murder,” Ewan said. “And have you ever stopped to consider the fur wasn’t an accident?”

“What do you mean?” Bel asked.

“A paranormal detective drama where creatures of all kinds live among humans comes to our town, and suddenly women start dying in theatrical ways with supernatural undertones. Now there’s animal fur stuck in a victim’s wounds. It seems alarmingly like an episode of Aesop’s Files. We’re living the show, and what if that’s what the killer wants? Clues, oddities, riddles. Girls in red, dead in the snow, clawed apart by a monster. What if this isn’t a supernatural killing at all? Have you considered that? What if the killer’s playing too close to the show, and everything you’ve found is merely part of the act?”

“I swear to god,I feel like I’m the one on a TV show,” Griffin said when Bel relayed Lina’s autopsy findings and Taron Monroe’s late-night visit. “And the studio knew about this Wolf guy?”

“Miss Monroe claims they do,” Bel said.

“But they refused to tell us because we might shut down production.” Griffin cursed. “Are we being pranked? Women are dying, yet they’re making us chase our tails so we don’t cost them their fortune.”

“I saw a photo of one of The Wolf’s letters. I was convinced, but then again, we’ve seen things. A letter with words printed darker than others isn’t exactly a smoking gun. I doubt most would take it as seriously as us.”

“Maybe before, but now? We found two women left half naked and torn apart, and they don’t at least warn us that a man calling himself The Wolf might be stalking Miss Monroe. The letter mentioned her death by a red scarf. Rossa and Roja were killed wearing a red cloak. It was signed by The Wolf, and fur was embedded in Ellery Roja’s wounds. These letters should’ve been the first thing we learned about.”

“I agree.” Bel sank to the couch and stared blankly at her boss.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” Griffin asked. “Orion Chayce seemed like our man, but now I’mnot convinced.”

“Honestly, you could argue cases for both men. They might even be the same person. Or they could be two separate crimes. The only thing confusing me is the victims. Chayce might havecauseto kill Roja since he worked on the set design, and she was the costume designer. Their paths probably crossed, but the writer doesn’t fit unless she was physically present during the accident. Then there’s Miss Monroe. She joined the show after Chayce was sentenced, so he has no reason to punish her… unless The Wolf is just a stalker and Chayce is the killer.”

“The red scarf and his signed name keep bringing me back to this The Wolf, though,” Griffin said. “But why would he go after the writer and costume designer? If he’s stalking Miss Monroe, what do the crew members have to do with it? Are they friends?”

“I don’t think so.” Bel leaned against the couch cushion, sinking deep into its softness in the hopes it would swallow her whole so she’d no longer have to theorize why men were hunting women through the Reale Estate. “The letters,” she finally said, her brain putting the puzzle pieces together. “It was threatening without being a threat. The Wolf is smart, at least with how he composes sentences. The prose is lyrical and meaningless until you read the darkened words. Thenit’s aggressive, but only to Miss Monroe. He wants herafraid, but he’s careful with how he inflicts fear. He doesn’t want to get caught, so he hides his meaning, creating more and more terror as time passes. No one believes her, so she’s alone and terrified someone’s stalking her.

“But words eventually aren’t enough.” Bel leaned forward with purpose as the final jigsaw pieces snapped together in her brain. “For almost every criminal, the status quoeventuallyno longer satisfies their cravings. They need more, a larger dose to experience the same high. Following her and then writing his death fantasies lost their spark. He has to act them out now, and because he’s obsessed with her and the show and his wolf persona?—”

“He became the wolf,” Griffin finished for her.

“He became the wolf,” Bel agreed. “Taron Monroe is a detective in a paranormal crime drama. He’s killing people similar to how the show’s monsters murder their victims. Perhaps he believes that if he creates crimes worthy of Monroe’s character, she’ll arrive to work the scenes, and he can swoop in as the love interest. Or maybe he’s taken his stalking to the extreme. He wants her terrified, and what better way to scare someone than to kill women like the wolf you claim you are?”

“So his victims mean nothing except they share the same gender as his intended victim?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know. Chayce is still a good suspect, but a man getting revenge for serving time doesn’t strike me as someone who’d replicate episode scenes. Granted, we’ve seen weirder, but it makes more sense if The Wolf is the one imitating the show’s crimes.”

“I have this pit in my stomach.” Griffin pushed his chair away from his desk and doubled over. “I hate when you make sense. It scares me.”

“The idea of a stalker calling himself The Wolf scares me.”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but while Rossa’s and Roja’s deaths are tragic, they aren’t national news. If Miss Monroe is murdered…” He shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that. One of the most popular actresses on a beloved show dies in our town because we let some stalker gut her like a pig. This won’t end well, will it?”

“Not if the producers keep jerking us around.” Bel sank back into the couch. “What do we do from here? We have very little evidence, and too many theories.”

“I think we can agree that no matter the theory, the women of this show aren’t safe,” Griffin said. “Two are dead, and Miss Monroe feels she’s being threatened. The killer’s M.O. is consistent on victim choice, at least.”

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