Page 78 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Whatever you say, Emerson,” he chuckled. “All right, I’ll let you go. Please get some sleep. I’ll call if I have another update.”

Griffin didn’t call,so the couple spent a peaceful day together. Bel barely stepped foot off the mattress, and if she pretended her throat wasn’t mottled with black and blue fingerprints, she almost enjoyed the bedrest. She binged one TV show after another, skipping the Aesop’s Files episodes, and Eamon kept his word. He worked with his face turned toward her until he closed his laptop to make dinner. Then he held her in his arms until sleep stole her from him.

“Hey, welcome back,” Officer Rollo said as he passed Bel’s desk the next afternoon. She’d overslept again at Griffin’s insistence. He promised she could return for a few hours of paperwork if she slept without an alarm interrupting her rest, and after another one of the witch’s pills, she felt strong enough to work. Eamon reasoned she needed food first, though, so she hadn’t arrived at the station until well past midday.

“How are you feeling?” Rollo asked, and Bel wanted to cry that it wasn’t Olivia welcoming her back. Granted, Violet was probably behind half of his concern. She’d doubtlessly ordered her new date to keep an eye on her friend.

“Not as bad as yesterday,” she said.

“You are one badass woman,” Rollo chuckled. “Jumping into a car with a kidnapper and then crashing it. I don’t think I’m that brave.”

“Safer for your health and Violet’s sanity,” Bel laughed. This was why she’d donned a turtleneck to hide the gruesome shades of purple. Better the officers’ admiration than their horrified pity.

“True. You worried everyone, though. I was working here in Bajka when the news reported you died in a car crash, so when I heard over the radio that you were in a real one, my stomach dropped.”

“It’s nice to know I work with people who care about me.” Bel smiled at the handsome deputy. Gorgeous and caring with a stable job… yes, Violet was in trouble.

“All right, I got to go. It’s been insane ever since the bomb threat,” Rollo said. “It doesn’t matter that it was proved a lie. Everyone’s using it as clickbait, which is only making things worse.”

“Ugh, I don’t envy you.”

“Milk the desk work, Detective.” He winked at her. “See you later.”

“Bye.” Bel waved as Griffin exited his office and pulled a chair next to hers.

“You okay to be here?” he asked.

“I can sit at a desk just fine… at least until the pain meds wear off.”

“Well, let me know when that happens. How’s your…” he pointed to her throat.

“The color’s worse than it feels.” She tugged on her turtleneck so he could see the fingerprints.

“Good lord.” Griffin pulled her hand away, keeping her fingers tucked in his fist as her sweater bounced back into place. “You should be home.”

“The painkillers are strong,” Bel said. “I can be useful for a few hours.”

“You sure?”

“I am. So, do we have any updates on Alaric Randall?”

“Yeah, and he isn’t our killer.”

“Between his hidden messages, the kidnapping, and attempted murder, I really thought we had our guy.”

“Me too,” Griffin said. “We dug deeper into his life. He works as a cell phone repair technician, and Miss Monroe’s assistant just ID’d him. Right before the letters started, Miss Monroe dropped her phone while they were shooting. The screen shattered, but there was a repair shop down the street. Her assistant ran it over and had a replacement installed, and Randall was her tech. As a fan of the show, he recognized her, so he slipped a tracker below the replaced screen, which is why his letters were always so personal.”

“That’s unnerving,” Bel said. “But jumping from tracking her location and writing letters to choking me to death is a drastic escalation. You mentioned she met him once before, but didn’t remember him. Could that have triggered him that severely?”

“Randall was the middle child of a large family. His grades were high, but his parents couldn’t afford to send him to college after spending so much on his siblings. So he paid for community college himself and became a cell phone tech where he rarely got raises and never received promotions.”

“So, he lived his life in constant mediocrity without recognition from his family, his school, or his job, and then he meets Taron’s assistant,” Bel said. “He’s a fan of Aesop’s Files, and he had this fantasy that if he could connect with her, she’d fall for him. He wrote her letters, assuming she’d enjoy the hidden clues because his delusions confused her with her character. The detective loves the hunt, not Taron, but he became obsessed with his idea of her, so when she didn’t recognize him, he snapped.”

“He’d always been the forgotten one,” Griffin said as he mulled over her words. “Then the woman he’d convinced himself he loved forgets him. It made him desperate, but it didn’t give him a motive for murdering Rossa or Roja. He wanted Taron to fall in love with him. He wasn’t trying to scare her, was he?”

“So, we’re back at square one with the murders.” Bel sagged in her chair. “Two different crimes. Two different perpetrators.”

“And a show that still won’t shut down.”

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