Page 77 of Evidence of a Folktale

“This would’ve come in handy yesterday,” Bel said.

“So you like it?”

“Of course. I don’t enjoy being choked… or flipping a car. If this helps you find me faster, I’ll gladly wear it. Will it track me at all times, or just when I hit the panic button?”

“All the time, but it’s no different from tracking your phone.”

“Gotcha, so take it off when I visit my other boyfriends?”

“Exactly.” Eamon chuckled as Bel handed him the necklace.

“I play with this sometimes. What happens if I accidentally trigger the alarm?” She leaned forward so he could fasten the clasp around her neck, loving that her stupid jokes made him laugh.

“I come for you.” Eamon shrugged.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He traced the chain, his fingers dancing over her collarbones. “I’m glad this didn’t freak you out. We’ve talked a lot about how to navigate our relationship and the dangers I present by staying. Calling me was smart, but it’s not enough. We need a faster, more efficient way of communicating when you’re in danger, and yesterday made that painfully obvious. I figured a tracker in your necklace wasn’t invasive. It’s similar to using your phone’s location, and I didn’t want to embed a subdermal tracker before asking.”

“The necklace is smart, but a subdermal tracker? That’s definitely what I’d call invasive,” Bel said.

“So, that’s a hard no?” Eamon raised his eyebrows in a mostly teasing gesture.

“Obviously.” She shoved him, and he good-naturedly faked losing his balance. “I believe The Wolf is human, but he was a very real reminder of the dangers out there… and that I also dive headfirst into trouble. I like this solution. The necklace is blessed by magic and technology, so if I’m ever trapped in some lunatic’s car again, you’ll find me before I have to flip the vehicle. And I can take it off, so it gives me autonomy.”

“To see your other boyfriends,” he teased.

“Exactly.” Bel wrapped her arms around his waist, her head falling against the thundering heart that always brought her peace. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “If Taron hadn’t come back for me… So, yeah. You need to find me faster.”

“I will. I promise.” Eamon kissed her head, but as his lips slipped lower to her mouth, her stomach let out an unladylike growl. “Are you hungry?” he asked as she burst into laughter. “You mostly ate broth last night, so I’ll make you breakfast. Eating will be easier after those pills.”

“Maybe something soft, like hot cereal?” she said. “No oatmeal, though. And some tea.” She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat oatmeal since Abel kidnapped her, but grits always graced her pantry.

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead before venturing into the kitchen. “I’ll work from here today, so I can help you out. I don’t want you doing much.”

“Sounds good, but please face me.”

Her trilling phone drowned out the reply he uttered from inside the pantry, and she snatched it off the bedside table to find Griffin’s name plastered across the screen.

“Emerson,” he said when she answered. “I won’t hurt you by making you talk, but I wanted to call with an update. Just listen because I already warned Mr. Stone what would happen if he let you do any work.”

“So I heard,” she whispered.

“I’ll start with the good news,” Griffin said. “Swat concluded their search. There was no bomb. It was just a plot to force Taron away from you.”

“Thank God.”

“And the rest isn’t exactly bad news, but it’s not what we were hoping for. The Wolf’s legal name is Alaric Randall, and until a few days ago, he worked as a cell phone repair tech. He has no criminal record or relationship with anyone on Aesop’s Files. We ran a handwriting analysis, which is a positive match for the letter Monroe received at the bed-and-breakfast, but the search of his hotel room revealed nothing. He’s either hiding his murder weapons elsewhere, or he’s not the killer. He’s refusing to talk, and we’re still digging into his life, but we learned he attended an event a while back and met Miss Monroe. Despite their interaction and his letters, she didn’t remember him when he came to our town, so he used the threat of a non-existent bomb to lure her outside. He just hadn’t expected you to be crazy enough to launch yourself into the backseat of his car.”

“I said the same thing,” Eamon shouted from the stove, and the sheriff chuckled.

“This is what I get for not having kids,” Griffin said. “The lord saw fit to give me you and your urges to make up for all my years of missed panic attacks.”

“Sorry,” Bel whispered. “But Taron Monroe did not die, so that’s a win.”

“I guess. It’s hard to think things are a win when you’re the price.”

“It’s a win,” Bel said.

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