Chapter 16

"I wish I could help, but that's impossible," Elias Hudson said. He managed Bajka's electric company and was a friend of Griffin's, so when the detectives brought their theory about the Matchstick Killer's profession to their boss, he'd dialed Hudson immediately.

"None of our technicians take the vans home after hours," Hudson continued. "I inherited the company from my father, and this has been our policy since an employee's teenage son stole a van for a joyride and totaled it, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment. We also have a detailed system for scheduling jobs, so if one of our techs left town overnight without authorization, we'd know. We monitor gas and the speedometers, and while someone could refill the tank, the miles would reflect an unauthorized trip."

"We do that with our squad cars," Griffin said. "Only we don't have a schedule, so it's harder to track our officer's every move."

"Trust me, none of my vans were involved in this crime," Hudson said. "I'd like to believe my employees aren't capable of murder, but you never know, do you? We all grew up with Abel Reus, just for him to kidnap both of your detectives."

"Yes, you never know." Griffin threw the women an apologetic look, but Bel just shrugged. Bajka wasn't the smallest town, but its size ensured gossip galloped through the streets. She was shocked that news of her relationship hadn't spread beyond her immediate friend group, but then again, people barely paid attention to the mysterious man who lived in the ruins of the Reale Mansion. Although, she'd have to stop calling them ruins soon. Eamon was restoring it himself, but he'd made unnatural progress over the past few months. The plus side to being an ancient power.

"If I notice anything, I'll call you, though," Hudson said. "I have daughters, so if someone in my company is guilty, I'll march them down to the station myself. I can't imagine that happening to all those women. Makes me want to go home and see my girls."

"This case has us all wanting to hug the women in our lives," Griffin agreed. "And thank you. I hated having to ask, but we need to find this guy. Call me if you think of anything."

"Will do, Sheriff." Hudson hung up, and the detectives sank further into the couch.

"We just can't catch a break, can we?" Olivia moaned. "I keep thinking I have good ideas, but nothing pans out. I'm too tired."

"They were good ideas," Griffin said. "Unfortunately, ideas are all we have since the evidence is thin. This crime was so well planned and executed, that I'm afraid we'll never find him… but that's my exhaustion talking. Why don't you two go home?"

"I'm not leaving you here," Bel said. "You stay, I stay."

"Then I'll leave," Griffin said. "I smell. I think we all smell. We need showers and food and sleep in a bed. We've been here for days, and I'm worried we're getting sloppy.I'm going tosend the officers home in shifts so that everyone gets a few hours to rest."

"Well, as long as you're leaving," Bel said, the idea of Eamon, Cerberus, and a mattress so comforting she wanted to cry. Her back ached from napping in chairs and couches, and she missed her dog. She rarely slept without him, and it had been days since she'd seen his face.

"I am." Griffin glanced at his watch as he stood from his desk. "It's 8 p.m. I'll start breaking everyone into shifts, so finish your paperwork and head home. You both can return for the 6 a.m. shift."

"I could kiss you," Olivia said. "I might crawl out of my skin if I don't see my shower."

"I will kiss you." Bel kissed her boss' cheek.

"Don't work too late." Griffin squeezed her biceps.

"We won't," Bel and Olivia promised. They returned to their desks and worked for another two hours before their eyes started blinking closed. Organizing their paperwork for the next morning, the women said goodbye, and Bel spent the entire drive to Eamon's trying not to fall asleep at the wheel. Cerberus was living with him while she'd been trapped at the station, and even though she hadn't texted to say she was coming over, she couldn't bear the thought of sleeping alone.

The mansion was dark when she parked in the driveway, but before she exited the vehicle, her phone vibrated in the cup holder. For a split second, she contemplated ignoring it. She couldn't handle much more without sleep, but when she noticed the caller ID, she snatched the cell and lifted it to her ear.

"Agent Barry?" she said as the line connected.

"Emerson, I'm sorry for calling so late. It's been a day," he said.

"You have no idea," she agreed.

"I saw the news," he said. "I can't believe it."

"It makes me sick."

"You have a lot on your plate, so I feel bad calling you, but I figured you'd want an update."

"About the island?" Bel sat up to attention, praying for good news.

"Unfortunately," Barry said, and she sagged against her seat. "We looked deeper into Jake L. Hyde since he's still eluding custody, and we've discovered why. Hyde doesn't exist."

"What?" Bel leaned forward as if focusing on her steering wheel would help her hear clearer. "No. I met him."

"You met someone, but not Hyde. It's an alias. Legally, there's no such person."

Bel cursed and dropped her head against the steering wheel with a groan. "Today has been full of dead ends. Hereally doesn't exist?"

"He's a ghost. Whoever constructed his identity had talent. We're still combing through all the falsified documents, but we have no leads on the island's owner."

"How did he manage that?" Bel asked. "Creating a false ID from scratch is incredibly difficult these days. It's why most people steal the dead's identities."

"That's the other concerning part."

"Oh god."

"Turnsout his clinic didn't just cater to criminals but also government officials who saw fit to betray their country. A handful had the authorization to provide Hyde with a credible identity. The alias is good. It would've hidden him indefinitely if we didn't know to look into him."

"I wish I knew somethingthat couldhelp you," she said.

"Even if you had information for us, I doubt it would help. We suspect the man you met was an actor hired to play the role, but whoever Hyde is, he was careful not to let anyone get close."

Bel groaned, her frustration escaping despite her lack of words.

"I had the same reaction," Barry said. "I hate putting this on you while you're working that Matchstick case, but I figured you'd want to know."

"I do, thank you. It's just frustrating news."

"Hopefully next time I'll have better."

"I hope so." Bel got out of her car and clicked the lock button.

"I'll let you go," Barry said. "Have a good night. Get some sleep. Sounds like you need it."

"Thanks. Talk soon." She hung up and let herself into the front door, kicking off her boots before climbing the grand staircase to Eamon's room. He and the dog were passed out on the bed, but Cerberus picked up his head as she entered. He rolled onto his back immediately to beg for a belly rub, and she buried her face in his neck rolls as she rubbed his chest. Tears stained his fur when she finally pulled away, but the pitbull didn't carein the least. It wasn't the first time his mom had cried on him, nor would it be the last.

Bel jumped into Eamon's luxurious shower, but she didn't have the energy to do more than scrub her entire body with a giant palmful of shampoo. Her exhaustion couldn't handle conditioner or a brush. The knots were tomorrow's problem. For now, she was clean, and that was enough. Even toweling off and changing into pajamas seemed a daunting task, so shesimplyrubbed her hair until it wasn't soaked and walked naked into the dark bedroom. She crawled across the mattress, and Eamon moved for the first time since she'd entered his room. He shifted below the blankets and grabbed her waist before hauling her against his warmth. With swift and graceful movements, he tucked her below the comforter and wrapped her in his arms, her nose pressed against his bare chest as she curled into his power. His voice was silent, but his thundering heartbeat spoke volumes, and Bel cried against his skin until his embrace delivered her into a warm and peaceful sleep. No frozen girls haunted her dreams. It seemed even nightmares were afraid of Eamon Stone.

The alarm clock shattered the silence, jerking Bel out of sleep so forcefully that she smacked Eamon in the face. He grunted at her attack as he turned off their 5 a.m. wake-up, and when the stillness returned to his room, he lay back on the pillows and drew her against his chest.

"There's a drawer of clothes for you in my dresser," he whispered into her hair as he breathed in her scent. "I'll make you breakfast."

He barely got the words out before Bel captured his face and pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him with every emotion raging within her, letting him taste the anguish these past few days had woven into her being, and Eamon understood how desperately she needed him. He gripped her bare hips and dragged her exhausted body on top of his, never letting his lips part from hers as he shifted his boxer briefs just low enough. Bel gasped as he moved against her, as he loved her in every way she craved. He pledged his undying devotion with his mouth, his tongue, his hands, his skin. It was raw and desperate, their fingers interlaced as their moans mingled in the darkness, and there was beauty in how their bodies spoke for them. She didn't need her voice for Eamon to understand her. He didn't need words to conveythe depths ofhis emotions, and with a barely audible ‘I love you' , he gave her all of him.

"You will never end up in a basement again," he whispered into her hair as she lay sprawled and heaving on his chest. As much as she needed sleep, she needed this more, and his broad palms gripping her sweaty skin finally banished the cold the freezer had embedded within her.

"You'll never end up in a freezer," he continued. "I won't allow it. I will keep you safe, no matter the cost."

"I know." She kissed his neck, just like he always kissed hers. "I have to go." She reluctantly pushed herself off his chest, but he caught her hips and held her in place.

"You didn't kill those women," he said, reading her emotions too well for her comfort. "You don't hold the guilt. It's an unspeakable tragedy, but you don't deserve the punishment. You will avenge them, but don't accept that responsibility."

"It was right under our noses, though," she argued.

"You haven't lived here long enough to bear that burden," he said. "And even if you did, you're here to bring them peace. I know how deeply you feel. Your heart amazes me, but don't let this burrow too deep." He placed a calloused palm over her heart, and Bel savored the way the renovations had turned his skin rough. He could afford to hire a team to restore his home, but he'd taken it upon himself to raise the estate from the ashes. He devoted himself to the things he loved, and she was the one he cherished above them all. His rough handswere a reminderof how he poured into her well-being, and she could barely remember a time when she'd been afraid of him.

"I missed you." She kissed his full lips, and he caught her face as he deepened it, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

"So, live with me," he teased as they broke apart.

"I meant during the investigation," Bel laughed, feeling lighter after her night in the housethatwasn't her home yet felt like it should be."You were with me the entire time during the Darling case, and I prefer when you're there to watch my back."

"I'm always watching your back." He rubbed her spine to reinforce his statement. "Even when you don't realize it, I'm watching."

"You look how I feel," Olivia said as they both pushed through the station doors at exactly 6 a.m. "I didn't realize just how much I needed to sleep in a bed with someone I love."

"And eat real food," Bel said. "Eamon made such a massive breakfast that I couldn't finish it."

"Ewan isn't much of a cook, but he made coffee, bagels, and scrambled eggs. I've never loved eggs so much."

Bel smiled at her partner, cupping her cheek as Griffin strode toward them.

"Good morning," he greeted as he leaned against Bel's desk. "How are you guys?"

"Better," Bel said, and Olivia nodded in agreement.

"Good," he said. "I went home and hugged my wife all night. I still feel rough, but we needed that. I'm holding a press conference at noon since the news is having a field day with their speculations. I'd like you both to be there, but in the meantime, Thum called. She wants you both to stop by first thing."

"Poor Lina." Olivia frowned. "She has the toughest job of us all, I think. We'll head over."

"Thanks." Griffin patted their shoulders, and gathering their coats, the women turned and exited the way they'd just come.

"Did you get any sleep?" Bel asked when they met Lina in the morgue minutes later.

"Yes, we all went home for the night," the medical examiner said. "I can't perform autopsies with unsteady hands."

"Are we sitting in on today's autopsy?" Bel asked.

"You can, but that's not why I called you here," she answered. "I identified a few of our Jane Does."

"That's great," Bel said, following Lina into the cold storage.

"This is Carla Vans." Lina pointed at the first body with an uncovered face. "She was twenty-three when she went missing four years ago, and by her features, I guess that's when she died."

"She's practically a baby," Olivia said. She was the same age as Bel, and while both detectives were young, looking at women a decade their junior showed how much they'd matured.

"It makes me so angry," Lina said. "These girls had rough lives, and they never got the chance to see the good in this world. Victoria Scotts was abused by her father. Carla Vans worked as a prostitute. One of the other street girls reported her disappearance, but the police never looked into it. She was a runaway working girl. They assumed she'd either moved on from the life or gotten involved with a client.

"Then this is Twyla Gates. She went missing eight years ago at the age of twenty-eight. She lived alone in a trailer park, and when she stopped showing up for her shift at the local grocery store, her boss reported her missing. It took him a week to report her disappearance, though, so by the time the police looked into her, they found nothing that suggested foul play. Without a body or evidence, they assumed she left town.

"And lastly this is Daphne Keating." Lina moved down the line to the final uncovered girl. "Six years ago, she ran away from home at seventeen. Her parents filed a missing persons since she was a minor, but by the time the police located her, she'd turned eighteen. As a legal adult, they couldn't force her to go home. Her parents never saw her again, but it's impossible to pinpoint when the Matchstick Killer took her. The freezing preserved everyone, so I can't say when she died."

"It seems our theory was right," Bel said, the knot in her gut back with a vengeance. "He doesn't target women based on physical features, but on their vulnerability. He wants girls no one will miss."

"I sent their IDs along with the police reports to the stations where they were filed so they can close the cases," Lina said. "They'll deliver the death notices, but unfortunately, many of these girls will go unidentified. Some will have missing persons reports or criminal records, but a few will go to their graves unnamed." She paused to collect herself. "I've never autopsied someone we never named. In some cases, it took time to learn their identities, but I've never had to operate on so many Jane Does, knowing most would stay that way."

"I shouldn't say this as an officer of the law, but arresting this guy isn't enough," Olivia said, and Eamon's promise slipped to the forefront of Bel's memory. All she would have to do was give him a name, and The Matchstick Killer would understand the fear he'd inflicted on his victims.

"We've all had a version of that thought," Lina said. "Identifying the Jane Does is important, but I wish I had something useful for you. With every examination, I pray I'll find evidence that points us to the killer, but these girls are clean. Rohypnol acts quickly and can even cause blackouts. I doubt they realized they'd been taken, and he would've had plenty of time to clean them."

"I'm sure he wore gloves and protective gear too," Bel said. "Those are easy to come by."

"As is Rohypnol," Lina said. "None of our discoveries are exactly damning."

"But you aren't done with the autopsies yet," Bel said. "All it takes is one mistake. One slip-up. One hair that shouldn't be there, and we'll find him."

"Sheriff, is the disappearance of Sarah Bristol connected to these murders?" a reporter asked when Griffin opened the press conference floor for questions.

"Our hearts go out to the Bristol family, but no, Sarah wasn't one of the women found on the Walker property," Griffin answered.

"Do you have any suspects?" another reporter asked.

"We are following every lead, but we cannot comment on the specifics of an ongoing investigation."

"Both of your detectives were recently kidnapping victims," a third said, and Bel recoiled as the cameras honed in on her. "Are they equipped to handle the demands of a case of this magnitude?"

Griffin bristled like an insulted father, and worried he'd defend her with an anger the news would twist ugly, Bel slipped closer to her boss. He noticed her movement, as did the press, but her eyes were enough to reign in his response.

"My detectives are the finest this country has to offer," Griffin said, the professionalism barely masking his annoyance. "The Bajka Police Department takes care of its own, and we've taken every step necessary to provide our officers with the best care and support. Detectives Isobel Emerson and Olivia Gold are not only qualified for this investigation, but they are essential. That's all the questions we have time for. Thank you for coming."

The sheriff turned on his heels, shielding Bel with his body as a cameraman practically lunged for her, and together, they pushed their way back into the station.

"I'm sorry," Griffin said. "I didn't realize they would target you with their questioning."

"It's okay," Bel said, thankful that Olivia had stepped out of the press conference to take a call.

"It's not. You are important to this town. You don't deserve to have your name dragged by some self-inflated man with a camera."

"Have I ever told you I love you?" she asked.

"Um… no." He pinched his eyebrows at her. "I don't think so."

"Well, I do." She kissed his cheek, and he patted her back affectionately, fully comfortable with the fact that his detectives viewed him as their second dad.

"Do you need me for anything?" she asked. "I need lunch if I'm going to survive the paperwork on my desk."

"No, go ahead."

"Thanks." Bel grabbed her jacket and walked out into the parking lot, freezing in her tracks when she noticed the familiar black sedan sitting beside her car.

"I saw you on the news," Eamon said as he stepped out of his vehicle. "After those questions, I figured you could use some cheering up." He opened the back door, and Cerberus launched himself at her, racing over the pavement so fast that she had to brace for impact.

"Baby Beast!" she squealed as she caught him in her arms, and the extra weight made her teeter until Eamon steadied her. "I needed this." She buried her face in her dog's neck, and for a long moment, she let him squirm as she cuddled him.

"He's fine staying with me, but then you came home last night, and he's been moody ever since," Eamon said, and when she twisted up to look at him, he pressed a kiss to her lips.

"My poor boy." Bel leaned on Eamon's chest to keep from dropping the seventy-pound pitbull. "I feel bad. I hate not being with him."

"He misses Mom." Eamon scratched the dog's head. "We have lots of fun together, but it's not the same without you. I can see you on the news, but he can't, so I brought him to cheer you up. I also figured you needed lunch."

"I do." Bel placed her dog on the ground and rose onto her toes to give Eamon a proper kiss. "Let's walk to the deli and grab sandwiches. Cerberus will enjoy walking more than driving."

"I'm down for that." He grabbed her hand, and the trio left the parking lot. "You are gorgeous on the news, but I prefer real-life Isobel Emerson… although that cameraman and reporter are testing my patience."

"The ones who lunged out at me during the press conference?" Bel asked.

"They're the same men who bothered you at the barn. Twice I've caught him being a little too aggressive toward you, and I'm seconds away from dealing with him myself. I understand reporters are doing their job and this is an unsettling case, but I don't like the way he keeps coming after you."

"He's probably just trying to increase the ratings." She shrugged.

"Possibly. Or you have an admirer, but honestly, if he doesn't back off, we're going to have a discussion."

"I was trying to avoid him, but was he really that bad?"

"He pays attention to you and only you," Eamon said. "It's like he's fixating on you."

"Fixating," Bel repeated, yanking him to a stop. "It can't be that simple, can it?" Her eyes flashed to Eamon's, and she grabbed his face, kissing him triumphantly. "You're a genius."