“He would if he worked for the park,” Olivia said, and the trio paused as that realization sank in.
“If that’s the case, we’ll have to be careful,” Bel said. “He’ll be familiar with these woods, and who knows how far he’d go to protect his mermaids.”
Griffin grabbed her arm and tugged her closer, both of them picturing the IEDs on the Darling property. “Is he here?” he whispered, searching the shadows for a man he’d never find.
“No.” It didn’t matter that she’d left him sitting in his office this morning. Even if she hadn’t experienced their early goodbye, she could feel the emptiness of these woods. His eyes on her were as strong and protective as his physical touch, and her skin was cold and bare despite the July afternoon.
“Why?” she asked when Griffin responded with an unsatisfied grunt.
“Because if our killer built protections into this beach, I’d prefer you not step on anything.”
Bel drankthe entire bottle of water without pausing to breathe. The heat was unbearable, and the bodies were endless. They’d found nothing of use in the woods or along the single dirt road,but the lake held more than her fair share. Over a dozen women had been pulled from the depths, some only wire-wrapped bones and others perfect preservations. The glass was heavy, and Bel couldn’t decide which was worse. The grimy skeletons of young girls devoured by the creatures that called this lake their home, or the nude women staring lifelessly up at her as she helped the agents drag the sculptures to the tents. They were so exposed in their death, so violatingly on display, their only modesty the tattooed ink forever embedded in their skin. The killer had stripped away every last ounce of their dignity in his quest for eternally youthful beauty, forcing all who carried them from the water to witness parts of them that should’ve never been given to the public eye.
“I’ll have to wait for the autopsies, but my guess is these girls were drowned before they were locked inside these mermaid sculptures,” Lina Thum, the medical examiner, said. “Whatever embalming fluid the killer filled the glass with is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The preservation is immaculate.”
Bel’s memory flashed back to Dr. Charles Blaubart’s six dead wives. All of them had been perfectly preserved in their floating tanks, and based on his access to a cursed scalpel, she’d assumed the embalming fluid was equally cursed. Had this killer found his way to the same magic-laced formula?
“Why drowning?” Bel asked.
“The subconjunctival hemorrhages in their eyes.” Lina pointed to the girl before them. “Broken blood vessels. It happens when someone swims, and water gets in their eyes. I could be wrong. They might have merely spent time swimming before their deaths, but I can almost confidently say, these mermaids lived, died, and were buried by water.”
“I know we’re all thinking it, so I’m going to say it,” Griffin said. “Ariella Triton went missing on the opposite side of this lake. She isn’t among the glass-encased mermaids, butsubmerged bodies decay quickly. Ariella has been missing for two months. What are the chances that one of these bare skeletons is hers? Did the poor girl interrupt something when fleeing our officers and end up dumped here for it? We guess that the chicken wire victims were his first, but he could’ve reverted to his original M.O. if he were in a pinch.”
“I don’t think our missing girl is here,” Lina said. “Two months is more than enough time for the flesh to rot and be consumed by fish, but see these bones? They’ve become part of the lake. Vegetation has latched onto them. The scratches from animal bites are no longer fresh. They’ve been here for years. Miss Triton’s skeleton would be significantly fresher.”
“So she isn’t here,” Griffin said. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I’m glad she isn’t dead, but what happened to that girl?”
“I wish I could help you with that,” Lina said. “But I don’t even know if I can help you with these.” She brushed a gloved hand over the glass scales with reverence. “I’ve never seen preservation like this, and what happens when we break them free?”
Bel opened her mouth to announce she’d witnessed another case with similar embalming, but before she could utter a word, her skin flushed cold. Gooseflesh raced down her arms, and in the day’s fading light, her eyes found a swath of shadows between the trees dripping with dread. Her heartbeat doubled in speed, the increased rate both exhilaration and fear, and unable to resist his gravity, she slipped out of the tent.
“I just wanted to check how you’re doing,” Eamon said when she joined him in the darkness.
“Dead girls are lying naked on that beach. How do you think I’m doing?”
“Did you end up finding the Triton girl?” he asked as he folded her into his all-consuming embrace.
“No,” she said into his chest. “She isn’t one of the glass mermaids, and Lina has reason to believe she can’t be one of the wire skeletons. Whatever happened to that poor girl, it was a fate different from these women.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” Eamon released her, but before she moved beyond his reach, he hooked his fingers through her belt loops to anchor her to him.
“I hope so, too, but after two months, I worry it’s not.”
“I know.” His free hand trailed a path over her cheek. “Griffin and Barry are well acquainted with me.” He nodded toward the swarming beach. “Want me to come take a look?”
“Why not?” Bel pressed a palm to his chest. “It’s already a weird and disturbing case. Might as well throw you into the mix.”
“I’ll try not to take offence to that.” He smirked at her sheepish smile as she led him through the chaotic agents to the victim tent, no one noticing the six-foot-five wall of muscle infiltrating their ranks.
“This mermaid here.” Eamon pointed to the girl closest to the portable lights after a few minutes of silent study. “She was one of the first victims.”
Lina flinched at his voice, gawking up at him from where she crouched before the glass sculpture, but after a conflicted moment, she shut her mouth, seemingly accepting the fact that Eamon Stone frequented scenes he didn’t belong in when it involved Isobel Emerson. “Why would you say that?” she asked.
“The tattoos.” Eamon moved closer, beckoning Griffin and Olivia as he spoke, and Bel noticed that he’d somehow donned a stolen FBI jacket when she wasn’t looking. “Depending on the size of the design, artists use things called groupings—tiny needles grouped together, moving as one—and they inject the ink by punching it into the skin at a rapid pace. Too shallow, and the ink will eventually flake off with the dead skin. Too deep,and the ink will blow out, or turn cloudy, ruining the lines. The lower layers of skin don’t hold ink well, so it bleeds out into little clouds. Groupings are also why artists pull the machine down while creating lines rather than pushing it upwards. The needles aren’t fused, so they can spread apart. Picture a yard rake. When you pull it toward you, the teeth stay in place. You push it, though, and they get stuck in the dirt and spread out. Needle groupings can range from three to nine or more. So you can imagine what nine needles being pushed apart would do to skin. Overworking a section, even if you’re positioned correctly, can cause scarring. Thin parts of the skin can cause scarring. A single mistake is forever left on a person’s body, which is why single line, or needle, tattoos are much harder. People assume it’s easier because they’re small, but you can’t hide mistakes when the designs are single lines. Color and thick tattoos can cover missteps, but not always. Then you have the differences between color and blackwork tattoos. Color, like these scales, is more difficult to blend.”
“That’s fascinating,” Lina said, her comment almost a question as she stared up at the hulking man.
“But what does it have to do with this mermaid being an earlier victim?” Eamon finished for her. “Everything.” He crouched beside the medical examiner, and Bel leaned against his back to get a better view. “Whoever tattooed this girl did the outlines in black and the scales with solid colors without blending. He also clearly used a larger grouping for both since the lines are so thick, and look here.” He tapped the glass above a blurred tattoo line. “That’s a blowout.”
