Chapter 8

When we arrivedat the bureau, Hilda called us in for a briefing, and we told her what we knew so far. By the time we finished, Hilda leaned back in her seat looking pensive.

"This isn't good. We have no leads other than the fact the Red Cap curse is most likely involved."

"And the wolf might be targeting Blanche!" Belle exclaimed, using my real name instead of my nickname.

"It's just a possibility," I quickly interjected. "Let's not forget the first victims weren't handled in the same way."

"Our killer flew under the radar for those, though," Hilda stated. "Now that they've been outed, and their crimes being bandied far and wide, they appear to have stepped up their game. Most likely, they spotted you in some of the footage."

"How? I never did any interviews for the media," I argued.

"Yet, you ended up in a clip. A reporter caught you exiting the woods."

I grimaced. "Well, that sucks Rumple's balls."

Belle coughed. "Um, so about the press conference to warn the public…"

The reminder had Hilda looking grave. "It's scheduled for half an hour from now. Me and the chief will be advising folks to keep the red outfits in the closet, as well as suggesting those who must be out after dark only do so in a group. Given the victims have only been attacked when alone, we're hoping safety in numbers will keep people safe."

"We'll have to watch for vigilantes." The Grimm Effect tended to exacerbate the hero gene in some folks, making them more likely to grab a pitchfork—or a shovel—and handle matters on their own. For some reason it made me think of Alistair Walden in a plaid jacket and orange vest, wandering around the woods like Elmer Fudd. Ridiculous, of course.

"The chief will be making a strong statement about that. We've got a tip line set up and ready to go. Additionally, given the way the last murder scene appears to directly implicate you, Hood, you should think about bunking with your mom or someone else until the perp is caught."

The rebuttal came quickly. "I'd rather not."

"If they're targeting you—"

"Then let them. I was planning to dangle myself as bait anyhow."

"Excuse me? I don't think so," Hilda flatly stated.

"Why not? It would be the quickest way to draw them out."

"You're asking me to put you in the crosshairs of a killer."

"I already am," I argued. "Instead of waiting for them to strike, it makes sense to intentionally put me out there. That way we can control the situation and set a trap."

"Assuming they fall for it. What if you, wandering around all la-de-da, set off their danger radar and they spot the trap? What if they wait until you're alone and vulnerable?"

An incredulous noise escaped me. "I'm often alone, but vulnerable?" I patted my side. "My little friend begs to differ."

"You're not impervious to harm, Hood."

"I am, however, better equipped than most to handle it."

Her lips pinched. "I have to go, or I'll be late for the press conference, but this discussion isn't over. I don't want you to do anything without my say-so. Understood?"

Begrudgingly, I replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, go home and get some sleep. You look like shit."

My head kind of agreed, but a voicemail from a certain witness made me change my mind.

"Hi, Agent Hood. Sorry to bother, but you said to call if I remembered anything. I'm working from home today due to construction noise at the office if you want to swing by."

I wondered what he had to tell me. Belle saw me grabbing my helmet and barked, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Our witness left a message saying he might have a tidbit."

"So call him back."

"You know I prefer in-person." Facial expressions and body language could tell me a lot.

Belle shook a finger at me. "You shouldn't be driving!"

"How else am I supposed to travel?" I retorted.

"You're not. I'm taking you home like the boss said." She grabbed her keys and briefcase.

"I don't need you to drive me," I grumbled.

"Yeah, you do," Belle countered. She followed me to the stairs and kept haranguing me. "You should have called last night to tell us what happened. Cinder and I would have come over to keep you company."

"Watching me drool in my sleep would have been a waste of your time."

"Probably, but I would have done it. And before you say something snarky, we both know you'd do the same for me."

I would.

As we walked out of the bureau, I asked, "Are you still driving that deathtrap?"

"My car is perfectly fine."

"I'm pretty sure it would fit on the back of my bike." Belle's ecofriendly vehicle took the term compact to an extreme level.

"It's good for the environment," Belle protested. She and Cinder had bought the same model a year apart. I preferred my gas guzzling bike.

"But not for your health if anything bigger than a squirrel hits it."

"Oh shut up and get in."

I slid into the very tight passenger seat before clearing my throat to say, "I don't want to go home."

Belle slewed a glance for me as she pulled from the bureau parking lot. "You should have never come in today to start with. You should be in bed resting."

"We both know I'm not capable of that."

"Well, you're going to try."

"I can't. What if my witness has something that helps the case?"

"After I drop you off, I'll go talk to him," Belle stated exactly what I'd say if our roles were reserved. Only, this was me, and Mom always said stubborn should have been my middle name.

"I want to be there."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "He knows me."

"And?" When I couldn't give a reason why, she slapped the steering wheel. "Hold on. Is this the hot guy I saw on those clips from Regent Park? I see why you want to see him now."

"What? No. That has nothing to do with it."

"It's okay to be attracted."

"Not in this case. He's a witness to a crime," I reminded.

"Not really. He stumbled across a scene and maybe saw the tail of possibly a wolf. He's not really a witness to anything."

"He's connected to the case. It makes him off-limits." I took great care to never cross any lines, even ones I drew myself.

"Not once it's solved."

"I am not looking to hook up."

"Maybe you should."

"Meaning what?"

"Just that you're a beautiful and desirable woman. One who needs to get laid more than once every few years."

The image of a certain hot handyman passed through my mind and my lips twisted. "I hate dating."

"Only because you haven't met the right man."

Also because I held myself apart out of fear of accidentally giving in to the curse. Even if I had been attracted to Walden, his profession would have been enough to make me back off. Whether or not he really went into the woods and got his hands dirty, he represented a huntsman. A woodsman. No matter how you translated the story, he covered both bases and though I'd wanted to deny it at first, the latest body confirmed that we were dealing with the Little Red Cap curse. I had to be on alert. I wouldn't give in. Fuck the Grimm Effect.

Belle gave in and drove us to Walden's home. She pulled into the driveway behind the luxury sedan parked there, exited, and glanced around. "Nice neighborhood."

"Pretentious, you mean." My retort as I left the clown car.

"Nah, pretentious has massive space between the houses. These houses you can just barely stand between with arms outstretched, making this middle-class suburbs. A place where people raise their families."

"Not this guy. He's single with a dog." As I spoke, I noticed a neighbor outside. A woman weeded her garden across the street.

"Give me a second." I hiked over and cleared my throat. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

She turned to give me a suspicious glare. "Not interested.

"I'm not selling anything, ma'am. I'm with the Fairytale Bureau." I flashed my badge. "I'm part of the investigating team for the murders in Regent Park."

Her expression turned somber. "Such a horrible thing to happen and so close."

"Your neighbor, Mr. Walden—"

"Who?"

Her confusion led to me pointing. "The man who lives across the street."

"Oh, him." She sniffed.

"You've met."

"Not really. He's very standoffish. I've waved and said hello, but he doesn't ever respond."

Being antisocial myself, I didn't hold it against him. "But you've seen him around. Him and his dog?"

"Him yes, but I don't recall seeing a dog."

"Perhaps you've just missed him when he walks it in the evening."

"Maybe." She sounded doubtful. "I'm out here a lot and see him come home most days. As far as I know, he doesn't usually leave until the morning."

"Have you noticed any strangers in the neighborhood?"

She shook her head. "Maybe, but then again, I don't know everyone."

"What about a truck? Black with rust?"

"Not that I recall. Is it connected to the murders?"

"Possibly. If you do see one, try to discreetly get its license plate and give me a shout." I handed her my card.

"I hope you catch that sicko," she huffed.

"I plan to, ma'am."

As I turned to leave, the neighbor queried, "Is the man across the street a suspect?"

"No, ma'am. Just checking out his story."

A story that made less and less sense. Why would he fake having a dog? A dog that was in his arms when he answered the door to me and Belle.

If me bringing her rattled, or surprised, he didn't show it. "Welcome." His bright smile proved engaging. "I see you've brought backup."

"This is my coworker, Agent Boucher." I waved at Belle.

"Nice to meet you. Won't you come in?" He extended his arm, and we entered.

I don't know what I expected from his place but also wasn't surprised by the casual elegance of it. It also looked impeccable. No mess of shoes or even dirt. The main hall had a new-looking console table with a large metallic structure I assumed was a piece of art.

"Shall we sit in the living room?" He led the way with the pup into a room that could have been featured in a magazine. Cream-colored fabric couches with a patterned rug and wood accent furniture.

"Nice place," Belle remarked, taking a seat on the couch.

"I can't take credit. I hired someone to furnish it. Can I get you a beverage?"

"I'm fine." My pounding head wanted to get this over with. Maybe I should have let Belle handle it while I drowned my misery with pain meds and whiskey.

"Tea would be nice if you have some," Belle countered.

"Of course. I'll just be a moment." He set the dog down before heading toward what had to be the kitchen. I sat beside Belle and hissed, "Since when do we take drinks from strangers?"

"Since I figure you might want time to snoop."

I smiled wide and slid off the couch, putting my ass in the air as I raked my fingers on the carpet.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Looking for hairs," I explained.

"I don't see any."

"Neither do I, which is odd given his dog." I eyed the fluffball who sat there doing nothing.

"Maybe he's a neat freak."

"Possible." I peeked under the couch. "Clean there too."

"No hair doesn't mean much. I'm not a dog expert, but I'm pretty sure most small pups are of the no-shed variety."

"All dogs shed. Some just shed less. Either way, I should be finding something."

"And this matters because…" Belle drawled.

"The neighbor said she's never seen him with a dog."

Belle stood up. "Cover me." Belle sauntered back to the main hall, and I kept eyeing the arch he'd gone through. I saw a dining room and, beyond it, the kitchen. Or at least cupboards and a counter.

When I saw him suddenly appear with a tray holding a teapot and cups, along with a creamer and sugar bowl, I coughed. Hard.

Belle reappeared and held out her phone. "Sorry. Forgot it in the car."

Great excuse, not that Walden seemed to care.

He set the tray down and poured three cups. I eyed the dirty-looking water and muttered, "None for me, thanks."

"Are you sure? The tea is a special blend," Walden stated.

"I'm more of a coffee kind of gal." The darker the roast, the better.

"I can make you some."

I shook my head. Regretted it immediately as my head pounded. "No, I'm good. So, Mr. Walden—"

"Please, Alistair. Mr. Walden was my father."

"I feel the same way when people call me ma'am," Belle tittered.

I almost cast her an incredulous look. Belle did not simper or giggle. She tended to be no-nonsense, like me, just nicer about it.

"Alistair, you said you remembered something?"

"Yes. Your questioning me about any vehicles in the area led to me racking my brain about that old truck and any features that might have made it unique."

"And?"

"It had a sticker on the bumper. I didn't read it but remember the image. A skull set within an emblem."

"A skull sticker?" Not something I could run through a database but could come in handy if we honed in on a suspect.

"It's not much," he admitted.

"Oh, I'm sure that will be super helpful," Belle gushed. "Every clue counts in a case like this."

Usually when Belle spoke, men paid attention. Not Walden—excuse me, Alistair. He kept his gaze fixed on me. I didn't like it. Was the Grimm curse trying to force something?

At least it chose someone attractive. But still… I didn't feel anything for him. Not like the insta-lust I had for Aidan.

Which I also wouldn't act on.

I realized Alistair eyed me and went, "Um, sorry?"

"I asked if you'd made any progress yet on the case."

"I'm afraid I can't speak about it."

"Of course. Forgive my boldness in asking."

"Oh, it's okay," Belle gushed, despite my evil eye. "What she really means to say is we have nothing. Which isn't a real secret. Whoever this person is, they've done a good job covering their tracks."

"Seems that way."

Was that a dig? "Just so you know, the city is putting out an advisory that people avoid wearing red or being out alone at night."

Alistair whistled. "That sounds extreme. This killer really has the police chief rattled."

"It's better to be overly cautious when dealing with a psycho of this nature," Belle stated. "We will catch the person behind these crimes. Don't you worry."

"And if capture isn't possible, we'll shoot them." My addition. I watched Alistair closely, expecting a huntsman to express some sort respect or acknowledgement, of but he didn't flinch.

"When dealing with a rabid animal, sometimes execution is the only choice."

I glanced at his dog. "How long have you had Rambo?"

"Not long. I was lonely when I moved here. I happened to visit a shelter and found him. Or should I say, he found me." Sounded sweet and yet I didn't buy it.

Belle beamed. "I love animals. But hate cleaning all that hair. How do you keep your place so tidy?"

"Robot vacuums." He didn't even hesitate to reply. "I also have a cleaning service that comes once a week. I am a bit of a neat freak."

As he escorted us to the front door, I paused, acting like I was hesitant to reveal my next request.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I hate to mix business with pleasure," I crooned, forcing a small fake smile on my face. "But I took a look at your website, and, well, I was impressed. Do you have a trophy room here? I'd just love to see some of your work in person."

He shook his head. "Not here, no."

I blinked, feigning disappointment. "Well, what about your hunter's arsenal? All your weapons and such? I'm sure it must be pretty badass, considering what you do."

"I keep all that elsewhere." His eyes flicked to the side, suggesting he was lying. But why wouldn't he want to show me? Perhaps he was one of those who had a natural suspicion of law enforcement agents.

"Anyway, thanks for stopping by. You ladies seem like you're doing a great job. I just hope you catch him before he kills again."

We left, and when we got in the car and pulled away, I said, just as Belle did,

"Did you—"

"He said—"

We both paused, and she waited for me to say, "Walden called the perp a him."

"Which isn't suspicious necessarily. Most serial killers are male, and I don't think we've ever had a female wolf."

"True. Assuming it is a wolf. The coroner never did have a chance to finish the autopsy on those bodies."

"The newest victim should shed a light." It would be sent to another city for processing, so who knew when we'd get the results.

I changed tangent slightly. "It really bugs me that the neighbor didn't know he had a dog."

"Well, if he only walks it once a day, she might not have seen it."

"I've never seen a dog that just sits there. Aren't they usually fetching shit or trying to crawl into laps?" At least the ones I'd met behaved that way.

Belle put the signal to turn left. "It was odd. Almost as if it were drugged. Maybe it's just old."

"So old it went chasing rabbits in the woods, which is how Walden supposedly found the hut."

"You don't like him," Belle stated.

"It's not that I don't like him. There's just something off. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"I think you're just wigged out because he fits the role of huntsman."

"So he claims. I've yet to see any proof."

"Would it be so bad? He is good-looking, self-made, and in the story, the huntsman kills the wolf."

"In the original story, Red Cap and the huntsman don't end up a couple."

"We know the Grimm Effect has been taking liberties with the stories."

"Don't remind me." I drummed my fingers. "What were you looking for in the hall?"

"I peeked in the hall closet at his shoes."

"And?"

"None of them appeared dirty. So if he was the killer, he hid those shoes elsewhere or got rid of them."

"Hold on. You think he might be our guy?"

"I think there's something odd about the fellow. I mean, on the surface, he seems great. Handsome, well off, polite, his home is lovely, but there's something about him—"

"That sets off the creep-dar." I nodded because I totally understood.

Despite my bike being parked at the bureau, Belle insisted on dropping me at the house, saying, "Cinder or I will grab you in the morning. And if we deem you fit, you can take it home tomorrow."

"Anyone ever tell you you're bossy?"

"All the time," she replied with a grin. "Want me to walk you upstairs?"

"No!"

"But you heard the boss. She doesn't want you alone or taking chances."

"It's the middle of the day. I'll be fine."

"If you're not, I will be pissed," Belle huffed.

"Love you too. Bye." I trudged into my building and, despite everyone treating me like an invalid, chose to use the stairs, clomping up them in my boots and regretting each vibrating step. But I made it, only to enter my apartment and realize I had company.

A rock song played softly on a mini speaker outside my bathroom. I peeked in to see an ass in the air. I almost slapped it. Instead, I leaned against the doorjamb.

"Does your being here mean my shower still isn't ready?"

He didn't turn to look. "Actually, I'm just about done. I'm seating the drain with putty."

"How long does it take to dry?"

"No time. Plumber's putty works instantly." He pushed up from the tub. "Voila. Your shower is ready to go."

"Really?" I couldn't help but smile at the news.

"All fixed but do me a favor, and no more plunging."

"Yes, sir." Then, because I remembered the mess in his bathroom, "How's the hole in your shower?"

"Still there, but that won't be a big deal to fix. I'll throw up some drywall, tape, and plaster. If you hear my sander going, don't freak out about the noise."

"Deal." Then I don't know why, but I said, "Hungry?"

His mouth rounded. "You're going to cook for me?"

"God, I would never inflict the torture of my cooking on you or anyone. I was talking more like ordering in some pizza. Think of it as a thank you and apology."

"I was just doing my job."

"And I was a bit of a bitch about it. So let me make it up to you. We can talk about COD and the new expansion pack."

His expression brightened. "You play?"

He'd obviously not rummaged through my things. "Yeah." And from there, we started actually chatting like two people. No verbal traps for him to fall into. No thinly veiled insults, unless ragging on game play counted. The pizza was perfect, meat lovers all the way.

When he grunted, "I should get going. It's late," I realized we'd spent the last four hours hanging out. I couldn't remember the last time I did that with someone outside of my usual circle of friends.

"This was fun," I stated awkwardly.

"It was," he agreed softly. He was standing at the door, his hand on the knob, when I impulsively threw myself at him. I wasn't the type to wait to be seduced.

I grabbed him by the face, pulled him down, and kissed him.

His lips were stiff at first then softened as he joined me in sliding and tasting lips.

It ended with him abruptly pulling away with a gruff, "Thanks for dinner."

He fled, leaving me bemused and horny.

Good thing I had a toy to fix that.