Page 94 of Evidence of a Folktale

“Beau talked to the studio and received their blessing to direct what remains of the episodes,” she said. “We’re heading to the location.”

“You’re shooting today?” Bel had to order her mouth not to gape.

“I know.” Taron hugged her arms around her chest as she sagged in on herself. “Warren’s dead. TV shows always have multiple directors per season, but Warren has directedthe mostAesop’sFiles episodes.His vision is the show, but we’re returning to set as if he’ssimplyout with a cold.I’d refuse, but if I don’t show up, Beau will be pissed. I’d rather not start drama with the guy I’m supposed to be in love with on screen.”

“I get that,” Bel said.

“It feels so wrong,” Taron said. “Plus, I’m freaking out. First Gwen and Ellery are murdered. Then I get kidnapped. Now Alistair and Warren are dead. How many more of us need to die before the studio admits they’re risking our lives?”

“None if I can help it.”

“Beau said you’ll be on set with him as protection. Is that true?”

“He misspoke.”

“Oh.” Taron’s features faltered. “It’s just I feel safer around you.”

“We’ll work something out.” Bel hated the disappointment on the actress’ face. She felt like a parent unable to deny their child, and while Taron was too old to be Bel’s daughter, she was woefully unprepared for the demands of an actual case. She played a convincing cop, but she was no Isobel Emerson.

“Okay, well, I have to go,” Taron said.

“Be safe!” Bel called after her as she parked the car.

“Detectives,” the inn’s owner greeted over the bustle when they walked through the front door. “Are you guys here for my security footage?”

“We are,” Bel confirmed.

“I figured. When I heard about that poor man, I knew you’d be stopping by. Come on, I have the tapes ready for you.” The woman gestured for the detectives to follow her into the office.

Alittle after the 9 p.m. timestamp, Chloe Rider arrived at the inn, and the parking lot stood empty except for the patrol unit until 1:39 a.m. Just as Rollo said, Chloe stumbled out of the bed-and-breakfast, and Bel understood why her theatrics had distracted the handsome deputy. It was freezing last night, and the poor girl tripped down the porch steps to collapse on the sidewalk, her head using a pile of shoveled snow as a pillow. Seconds later, Rollo raced to her side where he spent the next ten minutes keeping her upright. Miss Rider was an exemplary example of what not to do after midnight in the dead of winter, and true to his word, Rollo practically carried her to the cab. He waited for the vehicle to drive off before returning to his squad car, but right before he closed himself inside, his head snapped to attention. For a moment, he didn’t move, and then he slid behind the steering wheel and drove off camera. A few minutes later, the front few feet of the car’s hood inched back into the camera’s sights, where it remained until Rollo’s shift was over,which waswhen Bel ran into him at the station.

“He acted like he heard something,” Olivia said. “Are there any other exits?”

“The back door.” The owner switched the footage on the screen to the rear-facing cameras. “But as you can see, no one used it at 2 a.m. I checked already. That door stayed locked all night.”

“So how did Rouge leave?” Olivia asked.

“Are the windows bolted shut?” Bel asked.

“No,” the elderly woman said. “This is only a three-story inn, so there’s no need to seal them. In the spring, we often open them for a nice breeze.”

“Some of the first-floor windows are out of the cameras’ range,” Bel said. “Rouge could’ve opened one and jumped out.”

“The man was certainly young enough,” the woman said. “Do you think that’s what your officer heard? Mr. Rouge slamming a window behind him?”

“Probably,” Bel said. “Rollo didn’t mention seeing anyone climbing out of the windows, though.”

“He parks almost out of the camera’s reach after he checked the perimeter.” Olivia pointed to his barely visible squad car hovering on the monitor’s edge. “From that corner of the parking lot, you can see most of the building. He was worried he’d missed something.”

“Poor Rollo. He felt so guilty this morning.”

“I understand why, but Rouge should’ve known better than to climb out a window with a killer on the loose,” Olivia said.

“Yes, but pretty girls make men dumb,” the inn’s owner said, and Olivia grunted her agreement.

“Have you noticed anyone hanging around outside?” Belasked,Rollo’s position at the corner of the camera’s view giving her an idea. She suspected the killer was the one who encouraged her neighbor to flirt with Rouge, but unless he knew Chloe Rider, he wouldn’t know where she lived. Maybe Rollo hadn’t heard a window slam.Maybehe heard someone watching from the shadows or another car start as it readied to follow Rouge to Bel’s normally peaceful street.

“Tons,” the woman said. “It’s slowed since the fans left, but it was a madhouse. Lots of girls hoping to make Beau Draven fall in love with them.”

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