Page 11 of Investigation of a Quest

“We all were.”

“You IDed Ruby East,” he said. “Any chance you recognized our scarecrow from your new job?”

Bel shook her head.

“It was a long shot. John Doe’s autopsy is this morning.”

Bel froze. Why was he telling her that, and more importantly, why was he in a grocery store parking lot instead of the morgue?

“Okay…” She resumed loading her car, but Griffin remained silent. He simply stood there, watching her.

“Do you think the scarecrow’s significant, or was it just an easy way to disguise the body?” he finally asked.

“Why are you asking me?” Bel confronted.

“Because you’re the best detective I know,” he said as if the answer were obvious.

“But I’m not a detective. Not anymore.”

“I haven’t hired a replacement,” he said. “But we need someone with this case.”

“Oh my god, are you here to guilt me into coming back to the station?” Bel spat. “How did you know where I was, anyway?”

Griffin didn’t answer, but the guilt on his face betrayed the culprit.

“Unbelievable.” Bel shoved the last of her groceries into the car and slammed the trunk. “When will you get it through your thick head that I’m done? I don’t work for you anymore, and I never will. I’m not a cop. That’s no longer who I am, so for the love of God, leave me alone.”

She stormed to the driver’s seat and yanked the door shut behind her a little too hard before peeling off down the street to confront her next victim.

“Eamon!” she shouted as she burst unannounced into his foyer.

“Kitchen,” he said.

“Why did you tell Griffin where I was?” she asked, flying into the kitchen so fast that Eamon flattened himself against the counter to escape her wrath. “Is there something wrong with the both of you? What part of ‘I quit’ can your thick man brains not understand?”

“Because this isn’t you!” he roared, and Bel was the only person ever to exist who heard him yell and still charge forward like she held the power.

“It is me!” she screamed. “It’s what dating you has made me, and I’ll never hold a gun again. I will not become a killer.”

“Oh my god, give it a freaking rest! You are not a killer, nor will you ever be one. You don’t have a single evil bone in your body, and I’m sick of the excuses,” he shouted back. “I’ve been walking on eggshells for months, and I’m done tiptoeing around you. I love you too much to just watch you blow up your life, so get a grip, Isobel. You aren’t the villain in any story. You are, and always will be, the hero, and I cannot stomach your self-pity anymore. Time for some tough love, baby. I tried coddling you, but enough is enough. You are operating out of fear. You’re being insecure, and sure, you might have some dark thoughts, but you’ve never been a dark person. Do you think Griffin was any better than you when he shot Jax Frost? That man tried to gun you down, and I bet if you asked your boss, he’d tell you flat out that he wanted to kill Frost. He saw how he tortured those young women. He saw how he’d caged a girl in his attic. He saw how he tried to pump you full of metal, so I guarantee you when he took aim, he hoped that man died. Does that make him evil? Did his secret thoughts change the fact that his shooting saved your life?”

“No, but⁠—”

“There is no but,” Eamon interrupted. “It doesn’t matter what Griffin thought in that moment. All that’s important is that he acted. You did the same with Triton. You didn’t hunt down someone to murder in cold blood. You faced a monster who was going to kill you, two teenagers, and your partner. So, can you pause for one second and think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shot him? Put yourself back in that pool and watch one girl’s limbs get torn off while the other girl drowns? Olivia would’ve drowned too. Can you imagine the guilt you’d feel over that? Can you imagine if you spared a serial killer and sacrificed three innocent women to a brutal death?” Eamon charged at her and grabbed her shoulders so she couldn’t flee him for making too much sense.

“You love Olivia. It’s obvious to everyone who knows the two of you,” he continued. “I want you to think about that day ending differently. I want you to imagine an outcome where you didn’t pull the trigger because in that world, Lina would’ve zipped up a body bag around your best friend. If Triton had somehow let you live, you would’ve had to explain to Griffin, me, the victim’s families, the entire police department, the reporters, and Ewan that you had a chance to save those women, but you let a murderer kill them. You’d have to stare at Olivia’s vacant eyes as she floated in that bloody water until we could fish her out. You would’ve had to go to her funeral and tell her parents that you could’ve saved her. That you had the power to prevent three innocent deaths, but you spared a predator instead.”

“Stop it!” Bel shoved his hands off her, barely able to see through her tears.

“No!” Eamon shouted, his voice loving despite the volume. “Because you need to hear this. You aren’t this monster you think you are. I get that shooting someone is traumatic, and it left you with significant issues to work through. I’ll be here every step of the way, but stop playing the victim. You aren’t some murdering cop. You were an angry woman, justifiably so, but you saved three people, one of whom you love very much. Olivia is only here because of your actions, and you should focus on that. Your best friend still breathes because you did the right thing.”

“It doesn’t mean you and Griffin can force me back to work,” she sobbed, knowing she was losing this argument and grasping for anything that could justify her behavior. Eamon was making too much sense, and she hated him for it.

“We aren’t saying you have to go back to work.” Eamon’s voice softened. “But you quit for the wrong reasons, and you aren’t happy. I saw you last night. You wanted to be on the other side of the tape. You were miserable being separated from the scene. I could respect your career change if you truly wanted it, but you don’t. You’re hiding, and that’s what kills me. My Isobel doesn’t hide.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t know me that well,” she spat, resorting to childish behavior because there was no argument left. Eamon was too smart to be fooled by her lies. He’d called her out on her stupidity, and too angry to admit that he was right and that she needed help, she turned on her heels to find her dog.

“I’m going home,” she shouted, dragging the nervous pitbull after her. He didn’t like when Mom and Dad fought. “Don’t follow me.”