Page 89 of Evidence of a Folktale

“It’s odd that he attacked with a witness,” Olivia said. “But then again, with our security so tight, this was probably our killer’s only shot at taking out Rouge. I guess our director didn’t think leaving the bed-and-breakfast for a hookup was dangerous.”

“He should’ve,” Bel said. “Ellery Roja left to get chips, and it killed her.”

“It’s impossible to protect people who won’t halt production or follow the rules,” Griffin sighed, his chest deflating like a punctured balloon.

“They refuse to listen, yet we’re the ones who will be blamed,” Lina said. “All this could’ve been prevented if they’d just shut down after Gwen Rossa’s death.”

“No point in descending that rabbit hole,” Griffin said. “What’s in the box?”

With gloved fingers, Bel untied the bow and tugged the lid off. “Oh… god.” Her lips recoiled at the sight. “It’s a tooth.”

“A tooth?” Griffin leaned over, and she aimed the box’s contents at him. “That’s a canine, and it looks like it was just pulled.”

“It’s probably Rouge’s,” Lina said. “But where’s the riddle? All the other boxes came with riddles.”

“No,” Bel said. “All the boxes came with body parts. Eyes, ears, and nose. This is the same. What big teeth you have.”

“So, the clue’s in his mouth.” The medical examiner stepped to the head of the bed and pried Rouge’s lips apart. “It’s his tooth,” she confirmed, angling his face so everyone could see the missing canine. “And there is definitely something in here.” She withdrew a plastic-wrapped square of folded paper. “Here. My hands are dirty.” She placed it on Bel’s waiting palm.

Bel peeled off the wrapping and dropped it into the evidence bag Olivia held open for her. Changing her gloves to a fresh pair, she pulled the paper back out and unfolded it. “It’s a piece of an autopsy report.” She showed it to Lina. “It’s incomplete, though.”

“It’s just the body diagram where we denote wound locations.” The medical examiner leaned closer, and Bel watched her face go from studious to horrified. “If this is a real autopsy report, it depicts a victim who was stabbed five times in the abdomen.”

The entire room’s attention snapped to Warren Rouge’s disemboweled belly.

“It’s the what,” Olivia’s southern accent broke the heavy silence. “Where? In the snowy trees. When? January. Why? Because the show was renewed. What? Five stabbings to the abdomen.”

“I’ll see if I can find what autopsy this belongs to,” Lina said. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. There are thousands of fatal stabbings every year, and all we know is January. We don’t know city or year.”

“Wouldn’t it be five years ago when that article was published?” Olivia asked.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the M.E. said. “These clues have been incredibly vague. I bet this is no different.”

“There’s one more victim to go,” Bel said. “He doesn’t want us figuring out who his last target is before he kills them.”

“But we will. We have to.” Griffin broke free of the trance this destructive death had placed all of them under. “All right, Mr. Stone. I have to ask you to leave so the techs have room to work. Emerson, you aren’t exactly dressed for a crime scene, so can you go outside and talk to your neighbor about last night? Also, the press is arriving, but I don’t want anyone talking yet. Make sure no one does anything stupid.”

“Will do.” She grabbed Eamon’s arm and pushed him before her, following in his footsteps so they wouldn’t step in the blood on the carpet.

“I’m sorry that we have to meet this way, but I’m Detective Isobel Emerson,” Bel said when they rejoined her neighbor and the deputies outside. “I live in the cabin down the road.” She gestured toward her home.

“You’re where they found the producer’s body, right?” the woman asked. She was no longer hysterical, and she now wore proper winter attire, but the look in her eyes matched the same expression Bel had worn the night Alistair Rot bled out in her backyard.

“I am,” Bel answered, and the woman’s gaze flicked to Eamon as she waited for him to introduce himself, and it wasn’t lost on Bel that she didn’t recoil from his presence. She just stared at him as if she were resolved to accept whatever fate he inflicted on her. She’d already survived a monster. She had no fear left for the devil.

“Eamon Stone.” He extended a hand, and she shook it.

“Chloe Rider,” she said.

“Miss Rider, I understand this morning has been incredibly difficult for you, but if it’s okay, can I ask you some questions?” Bel asked.

“How did he get into my house?” Chloe stared through Bel as if she were invisible, the violated cabin the only thing her eyes could focus on.

“There were no footprints in the snow or signs of forced entry, so I suspect he picked the front door lock,” Bel said.

“I…” Chloe started. “I actually don’t remember if I locked the front door. Oh god. Did I let him inside?”

“Don’t feel guilty. He would’ve gotten inside, regardless. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you are very lucky. The man we’re looking for is extremely dangerous.” Bel waved down a passing tech and asked him to grab Olivia and check for signs of lock tampering.

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