Page 88 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Is he still in the house?” she repeated.

“Yes!” the woman screamed, and Bel released her, seizing her gun from Eamon as she bolted for the cabin’s front door.

He chased wordlessly after her, slipping protectively before her as they crossed the threshold, and moving as if they were one body, they followed the trail of bloody footprints.

“Is he here?” Bel whispered as they slipped silently down the hall to the bedrooms. Unlike her single-room cabin, this model resembled a traditional home with the living room, dining room, and kitchen at the front and a hallway that led to the solitary bathroom and bedroom at the rear.

“The house is still,” he answered. “He probably fled when your neighbor escaped. Is she married?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met her.”

Eamon paused before the bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, and then he pushed it open to follow the bloody footprints.

“Eamon,” Bel gasped as she froze in the middle of the room. “It was him. He was here, and he was waiting for me to move back home.” She patted her pockets. “I forgot my phone. Do you have yours?”

“No, but there’s a landline in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll call Griffin, but why the change of location? Why kill inside this time?”

“He didn’t.” Bel walked to the floor-length curtains. “You don’t feel cold like I do, but it’s freezing in here.” She grabbed the fabric and yanked it wide to reveal a sliding glass door that led directly into the woods. It was open, letting the outdoors rush in, and with the morning sunlight pouring into the room, the horrifying bloodbath burned to life in vibrant color.

For there, on her neighbor’s bed, lay a naked and eviscerated Warren Rouge, his only covering a blood-soaked red hooded cloak.

“Warren Rouge,”Griffin said as he stared at the Aesop’s Files’ director. “This isn’t good.”

“No, it isn’t,” Bel whispered. “He’s escalating. A writer, a costume designer, a producer, and now the director.”

“All that remains is an actor,” Eamon said, and the sheriff looked like he might pass out at that prospect.

“What’s Rouge doing here, though?” Olivia asked. “The cast and crew know not to leave the bed-and-breakfast after filming.”

“I think the naked woman wearing a sheet is the answer to that question,” Griffin said. “But how did he get past our patrol units?”

“Gwen Rossa never returned to the inn,” Bel said. “Rouge could’ve done the same.”

“Only Gwen Rossa didn’t know crew members were being hunted at night. Our director here did.” Griffin cursed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “That poor woman. He killed Rouge right next to her while she slept. There are no footprints in the snow leading to the sliding door, so our killer probably entered from the front walkway. The couple was already naked, so he only needed to drape the cloak over him and wait for her to wake up.”

“How on earth did they sleep through this?” Olivia answered.

“One-night stands are usually preceded by alcohol,” Eamon said, and while his observation was common sense, Bel guessed it was because he smelled the liquor wafting off the body. “They were probably too drunk to hear an intruder.”

“If this was a one-night stand, I’ll talk to my neighbor,” Bel said. “She might feel more comfortable giving her statement to a woman.”

“Sounds good,” Griffin said. “Is there a box?” He scanned the room for the white and red gift.

“Yeah. Kitchen counter,” Bel said. “I spotted it when I used the landline to call you, but I left it to be photographed. I’ll go grab it.” She retreated down the hall just as Lina Thum stepped into the cabin.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is it the director?”

“Yes.” Bel grabbed the tiny box.

“Good god. How is this happening?” She looked around. “And inside? Why did he change M.O.s for this one?”

“He didn’t,” Bel said. “The bed’s before an open glass door that leads into the woods.”

“I saw your neighbor outside. They’re saying she woke up to find him dead beside her.”

“She did.”

“That poor woman,” Lina gasped as she confronted the sight of Warren Rouge’s brutalized body. “I don’t know if I’d ever recover from that.”

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