Page 63 of Evidence of a Folktale

“I love you,” Bel blurted, unable to keep the words inside her after that speech. “Ireallylove you.”

“Am Iactuallyyour best friend, or was that a tease for Monroe’s sake?” he asked.

“Of course you are. Why would you question that?”

“Well, you have Violet and Olivia.”

“I do, but you’re more than just my boyfriend. Disturbing past aside, I don’t just love you. I like you. I have great friends, but you’re the best of them.”

“So, Ireallymake you laugh?” he asked.

“Surprising, I know.”

“Making people laugh is not something I’ve ever been guilty of.”

“Yet we have fun. Like when you threw me on your back and raced through the jungle.”

“So we could find a black marketsurgery.” Eamon smirked.

“Exactly. Fun.”

“Thank you for talking sense into me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Your death turned me irrational. I couldn’t function, but seeing you work today made it clear. I belong wherever you are.”

“Hey.” She rubbed his hand with her gloved fingers. “It’s cold. How about you take me home, and we pretend we live together?”

“I’d like that.”

“And whileyou’reat it, forgive yourself for that hospital conversation. You were trying to take care of me. Plus, you thought I died. Trust me, if you died, I’d be worse. I’m serious. Nothing is allowed to ever happen to you because if you die, I’ll lose it. You at the hospital would be downright sane compared to me.”

“Well, I’m not dying on you, nor am I leaving. I also plan to keep asking you to live with me.”

“Hey.” She withdrew her hand back into her car. “I said we could pretend. Don’t push your luck.”

“Fine. It was worth a?—”

“Detective!” Taron’s voice ripped through the air as she launched herself out of the inn’s front door and bolted across the parking lot, Belbarelyable to get out of her SUV before the actress skidded to a halt.

“Detective,” she sobbed, her voice shaking and muscles rigid, and that’s when Bel saw the paper clutched in her hands. “It was left at the front desk for me. No name, no stamp, no return address.”

“So it didn’t come in the mail.” Bel stole the letter from the terrified woman and opened it, a pit widening in her stomach. “Which means someone personally dropped it off.” She unfolded the note, and her eyes caught on the signature even though shealreadyknew who’d penned it. The Wolf was in Bajka.

“So,there’s been no further contact since the letter?” Griffin asked. It had been a few days since Taron received The Wolf’s newest message. Like its predecessors, the note was lyrical yet pointless until they read the darker traced words.

“Nothing,” Bel said. The sheriff had called a meeting in his office to catch everyone up on the different aspects of the case, and Bel and Olivia currently sat on opposite sides of the couch as they briefed their boss, the divide ripping Bel’s heart in half.

“The letter’s secret didn’t divulge much, either,” she continued. “Just,‘I’m glad you found a friend as passionate as you are.’We assume he means me, but that’s not exactly damning evidence since she posted that on social media. But the letter had no return address or postage, so he physically dropped it off.”

“Could someone have delivered it for The Wolf?” Griffin asked.

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Bel said. “Taron says his letters often illustrate how close he gets. He likes being near her. I don’t think hehas access tothe sets, but he’s in town. He delivered the letter.”

“Security cameras?” he asked.

“I checked theinn’s. Nothing incriminating. He either waited until a car blockedthe mailbox from view, or he employed a similar diversion to the killer when he left the box at the station.”

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