Page 79 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Seriously? Even after a bomb threat?”

“It wasn’t a genuine threat, so they don’t see it as an issue.”

“Good God, these people. The bomb wasn’t real, but I have handprints on my throat.” Bel rubbed her temples as she tried to exhale her aggravation. “When the murders stopped, I assumed The Wolf was the killer, but now it seems Orion Chayce is our best bet again. Any word on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing. No one’s seen him… which reminds me, I meant to call his patrol officer. Maybe he has insights into his character that will help us locate him.” Griffin used Bel’s computer to search for the man’s number. Unfortunately, he reached the officer’s voicemail, so he left a message and hung up in defeat. “Can you revisit the evidence and crime scene photos since you’re staying at your desk?” he asked. “Maybe we missed something. Bajka is overrun, but we aren’t a huge town. If Chayce is here, how has he gone undetected for so long?”

“I’ll recheck everything,” Bel said. “I never got out of bed yesterday, so hopefully my rested brain will spot something.”

Her restedbrain embarrassingly spotted nothing, and by the time darkness fell, the irritation in her throat had grown violent to match the frustration headache galloping through her skull.

“Griffin.” Bel poked her head into his office. “I’m sore and struggling with fatigue. Would you mind if I?—”

“Go home, please,” he finished for her. “I’m surprised you lasted this long. Anything for me?”

“Nope. I dug into Rossa, Roja, and Chayce’s backgrounds, but nothing jumped out. The women have no connection to him beyond the Aesop’s Files. Then, to play devil’s advocate, I searched for a link between just Rossa and Roja that might point to a killer other than Chayce. Still nothing. This show seems to be their only connection. That and they’re women.”

Griffin cursed. “Well, thanks for double-checking and for helping with the paperwork. That was a huge weight off mine and Gold’s shoulders.”

“No problem. Goodnight.” Bel returned to her desk and grabbed her coat as Olivia walked by her for the first time that day.

“Hey,” Bel said, desperate for her friend to even look at her.

“Hi,” Olivia said, and the softness in her voice gave Bel hope. “How are you feeling?”

“Achy. It’s why I’m going home.”

“I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at her partner. Had almost dying reminded Olivia that they loved each other?

“It was brave what you did,” she blurted before Bel could leave.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Olivia glanced at her desk as if searching for an escape route. “Well, drive safe.”

“Thanks.” Bel didn’t want the conversation to end, but a few kind words were better than nothing. “Have a good night.”

Olivia didn’t answer, but Bel still counted it as a win. It was sad she had to almost die in a car accident again to get her partner to acknowledge her, but if a brush with death brought them back together, the crash was worth it… maybe. At least that’s what she’d tell herself when she woke up sweating after a nightmare. Which thankfully hadn’t happened yet. She knew it was thanks to Eamon sleeping beside her and her magic-laced painkiller high, but the bad dreams were coming. There was a nightmare in her future with fists meant for her throat.

But it was not tonight. Eamon had returned to the Reale Estate to work on the renovations while she’d been at the station, but he promised to return to her cabin afterward. The attack made her crave the security of her own home, and despite being one large room, the cabin fit the trio nicely. In the short term, at least.

Bel pulled into her parking spot. The single light illuminating the living room told her she’d beat Eamon home. She always left that lamp on for Cerberus so he could find his toys and water, but it was dim, meaning her pup was the only one inside. Shoving her key into the door’s lock, she smiled at his welcoming bark, but before she twisted the key, something by her foot caught her eye.

Bel froze, the blood in her veins colder than the wind gnawing at the world. The sky was dark, the yard covered with white snow, but there was no mistaking the red curling around her toes. The killer had been here, and he’d left her another box.

Bel withdrewher Glock from its holster so fast that she didn’t even realize she’d moved until the black metal reflected the moonlight into her eyes. There was a white box with a red ribbon on her doorstep. Was she the next hooded girl? The forest flanked her cabin. Was she about to be chased into its darkness and gutted?

Bel scanned her yard, gun aimed and safety off. Alcina had tried to kill her in these woods. Blaubart had hunted her through the snow. If the killer expected her to run, he had another thing coming. She would stay and fight. She would make this messy… for both of them because she had no intention of dying tonight. But if Griffin had to find her body, she’d take as much evidence to the grave as she could.

When no one jumped out of the darkness at her, Bel stepped off the front stoop and shifted through the crunching snow. The first two victims had died in the woods. It made sense that the trees behind her home were the next crime scene. The forest was pitch black, the moon playing tricks with its shadows, and Bel wished she had Eamon’s eyes. She couldn’t see anything in the blackness. She heard nothing but the wind rustling the branches, and she reached for her phone when her gaze landed on the garden bench Eamon had installed for her.

“Oh god.” She choked on her words. The killer had been here, but not for her. Not in the way she’d feared, at least. She wasn’t the next red-hooded victim. The show’s producer, Alistair Rot, was, and he was still bleeding. Thick blood pumped from his abdomen. It dripped down his legs to stain the snow, and a crippling fear tightened its hold around Bel’s chest. She didn’t need Lina Thum to predicttimeof death. Alistair Rot had died only minutes before she arrived home, which meant the assailant was probably still here, watching her from the woods, but it was impossible to guess which direction he’d fled. The snow was disheveled from Cerberus’ playtimes and long walks, so tightening her grip on her gun, Bel pressed the necklace’s panic button.

Eamon turnedoff the water and yanked a towel off the hook. He’d started a new project at the rear of the mansion, one he was anxious to complete.That section of his expansive home held the most decay, so when Bel texted she was leaving the station, he wasmore dirtthan man.He didn’t want to leave her alone, but he’d ruin his car if he drove that filthy. Bel would also probably lock him outside if he tried to enter her cabin that disgusting, so he’d opted for a quick shower first. Not bothering to wait for the water to heat, he jumped under the spray, the steam only just starting to fill the bathroom by the time he finished. He toweled off and grabbed his boxer briefs, but before he could slip them on, the air exploded. A violent and desperate alarm ripped through the house, shattering the silence and his sanitywith it. Bel’spanic button.

Shoving his legs into his boxers, he abandoned the rest of his clothes and raced down the stairs and out into the snow. He glanced at his phone, the tracker telling him she’d made it home, so he ignored his car and took off barefoot through the woods. It was a straight shot to her cabin if he cut through the trees, andheleaned into his speed. He pushed his legs to their breaking point, and the closer he drew to her property, the stronger the scent grew. Blood, and a lot of it. Someone had died, and his only consolation was that the blood wasn’t hers.

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