“I know,” Bel said, hating that, once again, she was staring down the barrel of an impossible case. “It’s just frustrating because I can almost guarantee you that only a handful of businesses are capable of creating sculptures like that, and if we find them, it’ll lead us straight to our guy.”
“But they won’t be easy to find,” Olivia finished for her. “Especially if we’re looking for local artists from other states.”
“I’m tired.” Bel sagged in the driver’s seat, choosing to forget that Olivia was no longer her best friend. She needed the support and camaraderie of the only other woman in this town whounderstood what she was going through. “A missing girl, and now over a dozen dead girls. Sometimes, it’s exhausting doing this job as a woman. Men hate to see us alive.”
“Is that why Eamon has been showing up at crime scenes?” Olivia asked, and Bel forced herself not to gawk at her partner for crossing the line into the personal. How long had it been since their conversation had aimed in any other direction than work?
“Dying on your boyfriend has a way of changing everything,” she said. “Police procedure doesn’t seem as important. Not when I know what’s out there. Not when I know how brutally it can kill me.”
Olivia’s eyes slipped to the scars on her neck, and Bel fought the urge to touch the faint pink lines that would forever remind her of the night she met the monster she now loved.
“He’s safe,” she whispered. “Sometimes, he’s the only thing that makes me feel safe.”
But Olivia didn’t answer her. She just stared across the center console, a confused expression on her face, and, realizing that this fraction of a ceasefire wasn’t the reconciliation she’d prayed for, Bel opened the car door.
“Come on.” She nodded for her partner to follow, the detective fully back in charge of her body. “Let’s see if the funeral home knows anything.”
“Wow, they look… alive.”The funeral director leaned over the mermaid photos spread across her desk. “This kind of embalming doesn’t seem normal.”
“So this isn’t something your staff could accomplish?” Bel asked.
“I don’t know of any funeral home that can achieve this level of preservation,” the director said. “Everything about these girls is perfectly preserved. How long did you say they’ve been dead?”
“We’ve yet to ID the mermaids, so we can’t be certain,” Olivia said. “But our guess is the first victims with the least detailed tattoos were there for years.” She pointed to the photo of the girl Eamon had identified as the earliest victim.
“Years?” The woman gawked at the detectives. “Granted, our business prepares people for funerals, so we don’t try to perfectly preserve their bodies for decades to come. This seems more scientific than embalming.”
“Scientific?” Olivia asked.
“This looks like something from a science fiction movie.”
“You and Agent Barry said you’ve seen this before.” Olivia directed her comment to Bel. “Was it like this? Scientific?”
“Yes.” Bel’s nightmares would never let her forget the six floating Blaubart wives and the subterranean lab reminiscent of a mad scientist. “It was very similar.”
“But Charles Blaubart was a doctor, not an embalmer,” Olivia said. “So we might be barking up the wrong tree here.”
“I think you are,” the funeral director said. “This is a family business, and we rarely hire outsiders. I inherited it from my grandfather, and most of the employees are my siblings and cousins. Trust me, none of them has the skill to do this… or the free time, or the cruelty.”
“Could any of your past employees be capable of this?” Bel asked.
“I don’t know.” The woman picked up a photo. “I don’t think so.”
“Can we still get a list of every employee who’s worked here for the past decade?” Bel asked.
“Of course, I’ll email you the details.” The director accepted both Bel and Olivia’s business cards. “But these days, people can learn most things on the internet.”
“We know,” Olivia said as the detectives stood to leave. “But all criminals, even the smart ones, slip up. We’re just covering all our bases until we find his mistake.”
“Well, I hope you find whoever did this quickly. I’ll walk you out unless you would like a tour of our facility first,” the director said. “I certainly don’t have anything to hide.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” Bel accepted, and ten minutes later, they were back in her SUV with fewer leads than they had when she parked this car.
“Griffin just texted our group chat,” Olivia said as Bel pulled out of the parking lot. “Bajka does have a tattoo shop… kinda. It’s in a strip mall on the outskirts of town. We should check it out.”
“Can you put the address in the GPS?” Bel asked, but as if she’d read her mind, Olivia was already entering the location. Friends or not, the women’s instincts hadn’t forgotten their connection.
“Thing-A-Ma Bob’s,” Olivia read the sign when they finally parked before the hole-in-the-wall shop. “I guess that’s funny.”
