“Really?” Olivia looked on the verge of tears.
“Take whatever dish you want.”
“Thank you.” She fidgeted as if she might hug him, and Bel grabbed her boyfriend’s hand at the sight. Her partner was learning that Eamon wasn’t the monster she believed him to be. Their friendship had hope.
“Gee, it’s nice to be a pretty girl,” Griffin teased.
“I got food for everyone, calm down,” Eamon said.
“Everyone?” Griffin’s eyes flicked to the station outside his door.
“Don’t get greedy. I only just started liking you, and that’s because Isobel loves you both. Don’t push it.”
“Your boyfriend is a charmer,” Griffin laughed.
“Don’t insult him. Look where he ordered from.” Olivia’s eyes were wide enough to swallow the food whole. “My god, how much did this cost? We can’t?—”
“Shhh, we can.” Griffin cut her off as he seized a container. “We definitely can. Thank you, Mr. Stone, for your support of the Bajka Police Department.”
“It always has my support,” he said, staring at Bel with such intensity that she had to break his gaze before the sheriff ordered them to get a room.
“I need a drink.” Bel snatched the chicken pasta dish off the desk and fled the office. She’d have to talk to Eamon about showing up at her place of work dressed like sin with food in his hands and yearning in his eyes. It would light her on fire in the middle of the station… or get her fired for inappropriate workplace behavior.
“How’s the case going?” He asked as she slipped behind her desk after a quick visit to the beverage vending machine, and Bel thanked God that it was late. The station was mostly empty, and no one was here to witness her gush as if she hadn’t spent almost every night with him for the past nine months.
“Frustrating.” She shrugged as Eamon pulled a chair way too close to hers. She gave him a quick rundown, the irony not lost on her that she was giving a civilian the confidential details of an ongoing investigation inside the station. “I don’t know; maybe Griffin’s right. The Mermaid Killer is meticulous and almost religious in his kills. Is a twenty-eight-year-old hung up on dating girls too young for him really capable of that level of discipline?”
“I like girls too young for me.” Eamon dragged his nose against her scars.
“That’s different.” Bel shoved him away, not so secretly hating that she was at work. She wanted him to continue his path along her throat… preferably keeping his suit on the entire time. If she asked, he’d probably leave it on until she got home. “In the mortal world, my frontal lobe is fully developed. I’m afull-blown adult who can make her own decisions, and I’m not easily manipulated.”
“I wish you were,” Eamon laughed. “I might be able to convince you to stop giving me heart attacks.”
“You’d never love a woman who couldn’t stand up to you.”
“I absolutely love a woman who gives as good as she gets, but some men don’t. It seems this Erik is one of them.”
“But does it make him a killer?” Bel asked. “Did he choke Ariella to death? Did he sink those mermaids? Or is he just a guy with questionable dating tastes?”
“I haven’t met him, but you seem to have some doubts,” Eamon said. “What does your gut tell you?”
“He fits,” Bel said. “He really fits. I can make an argument for every single murder.”
“But…” Eamon knew her too well.
“But Griffin’s right. The mermaid killer is dedicated and precise. Is a man who hangs around college campuses capable of that level of morbid art?”
“Killers like that, like the Matchstick Girl and Mermaid Killers, are expert actors. They perfect a public persona to shield their true nature. You wonder if Erik dates teenagers to gain access to his victims, and if that’s the case, his entire personality is an act. The playboy who can’t grow up. The good-looking guy who coasts on his sex appeal. That’s what he lets you see, but the truth? The truth is much darker. I would know. It’s how I live my life. Except for you, the man people meet is a construct. He’s a deliberate facade to hide the devil I really am. So don’t take this Erik kid at face value. He may be a single-faceted man who’s exactly the person you think he is, or he could be like me. Pure evil hiding behind a carefully constructed mask.”
“We should stopby the Triton’s first,” Bel said as signs for the highway entrance came into view. She’d picked Olivia up bright and early so they could visit The Espresso Shot for lattes and breakfast, but before they left Bajka’s town limits, an idea popped into her head. “Ariella’s parents knew Erik.”
“And they aren’t nineteen,” Olivia added. “They might be more discerning in their judgment of him.”
“Do you think it’s too early?”
“It’s a weekday. I don’t think so.”
Bel ignored the highway entrance and aimed the SUV toward the family’s secluded home. “Their cars are here,” she said as she parked, her memory flashing back to the last time she’d enteredthis house. Mrs. Triton had driven them from her home. Would they still find themselves unwelcome guests?
