“One we would rather forget.”
“What accident?” Olivia added her voice to the demand.
“We had a popular show where performers donned tails and seashell bras and swam in the tanks. They were lovely,” Flot relented, a reminiscent smile spreading across his lips. “Really talented swimmers. Sometimes they performed a routine together, and at other times they swam with the fish. They were fan favorites with the little girls, and business boomed during Mermaid Week. We sold hundreds of tickets, photo ops, and toys. Food sales skyrocketed. Families loved the event, but eleven years ago, a performer stepped into the tank and slipped. She hit her head on the rocks before she fell into the water. Her blood floated everywhere, and we tried to get her out, but it happened so fast. She drowned before we reached her. Thankfully, it wasn’t during a show; otherwise, dozens of kids would’ve watched that, but there were enough people there to make her death a spectacle. It was traumatizing to watch her drown, so we canceled Mermaid Week and never reinstated the tradition. Ticket sales plummeted so drastically after her public death that we hemorrhaged money. We’d broken ground on a second location, but the funds ran dry, so we were forced to abandon the unfinished project. It was such a horrifying experience for everyone involved that we locked everything remotely related to mermaids in storage and pretended they never existed.”
“A mermaid drowned in your tank?” Bel repeated as her stomach fell through her body, and her gaze snapped to Olivia’s. Her partner stared back at her with eyes so wide they mightswallow the world, and they knew. That was it. That was the moment a serial killer had been born.
“Erik would’ve been a teenager when that happened,” Olivia whispered. “Watching a death like that changes a person, especially someone so young.”
“Whether it was him or someone else, this has to be it,” Bel said. “This is why those girls were hidden in the lake.”
“Do you have a list of who was there that day?” Olivia asked the director.
“The police report might,” Flot said. “If they were interviewed, of course. Some fled the scene as soon as it happened. I think some people… they had their kids with them. It was the worst day of our lives, and plenty of the witnesses ran. I couldn’t tell you who all saw her die. It wasn’t during a show, so we didn’t sell any tickets, but anyone who had a day or season pass could’ve been there.”
“Is there any chance that Erik Prince was there?” Bel asked, vibrating with hope. They were so close to finding their smoking gun.
“It’s very likely,” Sam Flot said. “Prince & Sons does all our signs.”
“Every lead bringsus back to Erik Prince,” Olivia said as the duo wove through the visitors, their feet carrying them as fast as they dared through a crowded building filled with easily spooked occupants. “Yet, we can’t find one piece of concrete evidence.”
“The mermaid killer took his time, and he was smart,” Bel said, dodging an oblivious family. “Unlike Jax Frost, he didn’t record his victims. If Frost hadn’t left cameras for us to find, we might not have traced him to the news station. He didn’t kidnapa cop and take her to his mountain hideout like Blaubart. This killer is meticulous, clean, and almost detached. Once they’re dead, he forgets about them.”
“Leaving nothing for us to find or follow,” Olivia said. “I hate the smart ones. Why do we always get the smart ones… does this have something to do with Eamon and Ewan? Are they like… evil magnets?”
“I think that’s the scientific name for it,” Bel teased.
“You know what I mean.” Olivia swatted her arm.
“The Mermaid and Matchstick Girl Killers were here long before Eamon, but knowing what I do about the supernatural world, I believe evil calls to evil. Darkness always finds a way to hide from the light, and yes, Eamon’s presence makes it worse.”
“Then why be with him? Why risk welcoming all that death and destruction into your life?”
“Because I’m someone evil is afraid of. At least, I make Eamon nervous.” Bel winked. “Evil will follow him for the rest of his life. Better it finds me than someone who will allow it to fester, which is why we should bring Erik to the station. Let’s see if our questions shake something—” Without thinking, her hand shot out of its own accord and seized a pre-teen’s biceps.
“What the—?” The girl’s mother shrieked and snatched her daughter away from Bel’s grip. “Get your hands off my daughter.”
“I’m sorry.” Bel fumbled for her badge, Olivia’s eyes burning a hole in her neck with her confusion. “I’m Detective Isobel Emerson with the Bajka Police. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She pointed to the girl’s throat, and she felt Olivia tense at her back when she saw the seashell hanging from a delicate chain, the pendant an exact replica of Ariella Triton’s necklace. “Where did you get that?”
“From the gift shop.” The mother pulled her child further away from the detectives, clearly not trusting their badges. “It’s the only souvenir that’s affordable.”
“The gift shop?” Bel repeated. “Here?”
“Yes, here.” The mother slipped her hand into her daughter’s, readying to flee the second Bel released her.
“Thank you.” Bel nodded, granting the woman her freedom from the strange conversation. “One of the mermaid victims had the same necklace,” she told Olivia as they followed the signs to the shop. “Two dead women had nautilus necklaces… which apparently were bought here.” The detectives lunged through the shop entrance, and after a minute of searching, Bel skidded to a triumphant stop. “That’s it. That’s the same necklace as Ariella’s.”
“Oh, those are pricey.” Olivia grimaced. “That’s the most affordable thing here?”
“Did you see the stuffed seal?” Bel pointed to where a price tag hung in plain sight from the animal’s fuzzy ear, and Olivia faked a gag.
“Okay, so this necklace is cheap,” she said. “The glass mermaids, the Prince & Sons signs, these necklaces, the mermaid drowning. That’s too many coincidences. This aquarium played a part—albeit probably unwittingly—in these deaths, and one person’s name keeps popping up. What if this is how he found his victims?”
“He targeted girls who bought these necklaces,” Bel said. “We aren’t in Bajka, which gives the killer separation from the lake, and aquariums are places people travel to. That would be one way to find girls who live out of town.” She left the necklace stand and approached the register, flashing her badge. “How long have you worked here?” she asked the cashier.
“For three years, but only during the summer,” the girl answered.
“Are there any cashiers who’ve worked here long term?”
