Chapter 87 Ch. 57
Prunella’s hand dropped from her face. Her eyes widened. "What?"
Zara tilted her head. "Yeah. And before you ask how I know, I also know you’re a vampire."
Prunella took a step back, her breathing uneven. "You don’t—you can’t—"
"Don’t bother denying it," Zara said. She pushed her hair behind her ear and folded her arms again. "You and Ethan aren’t exactly subtle."
Prunella swallowed hard. "Zara, listen—it’s not what you think. Yvette’s death was an accident. I didn’t mean—"
"I know," Zara said quietly. "I believe you."
Prunella stared at her, confused. "You do?"
"Yeah," Zara said. "You’re not a killer, Prunella. But you need to stop pretending you’re okay. You need to stop hiding everything."
Prunella pressed her hands to her face. "You weren’t supposed to find out."
Zara leaned against the sink, watching her. "Guess I’m not great at doing what I’m told."
Prunella let out a shaky laugh. "You’re insane, you know that?"
"Yeah," Zara said, smiling a little. "So are you."
"Vervain?" Prunella asked after a few minutes.
"Huh?" Zara asked, lifting her brows in confusion.
"You use vervain, right? An anti-compulsion..." Prunella trailed off.
"Yeah, yeah," Zara lied, forcing a smile.
++++
"I'm not following," Dylan commented softly.
"Well, I'll tell you my theory, and then you can confess to your crimes."
"Um, look, Officer Marcus, I'm not sure what you're driving at here, but I can assure you that you're gravely mistaken," he said with a small smile.
"I know what you did," Marcus said. His voice came out lower than he meant, and he could hear how it shook a little.
Dylan frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You killed Ivanna," Marcus said. "And you were the one who took her body from the morgue."
Dylan blinked, looking confused. "Where is that coming from? Why would I kill her? I loved Ivanna. The last thing I would do is hurt her." He stepped closer. "You sound insane, Officer."
"I know what I’m saying," Marcus said, moving a step closer too. "Vampires. I know that you people exist. I have proof."
Dylan let out a short laugh. "Vampires? Really? Do you hear yourself? Is that what you came here to say? That I’m some sort of blood-sucking monster?"
"You can laugh all you want," Marcus said, running a hand over his face. "But I’ve seen the records, I’ve seen the messages she sent, and I know you’re not who you say you are."
Dylan tilted his head, his smile small and mocking. "You’re grasping at straws, Marcus. You’re a detective, not a fool. People die. It’s tragic, yes, but not everything needs to be dressed up with ghosts and fairy tales."
"You claim to have loved her," Marcus said, his jaw tight. "Yet you’ve moved on so easily. No guilt, no pain, no struggle. Everything that day was just a show so we wouldn't suspect you."
Dylan sighed and walked toward the counter. "You don’t know how I feel, Marcus. You don’t know what I went through. You see what you want to see because you need her death to make sense." He poured himself a glass of water and turned back to face him. "You want a monster, and I’m convenient."
"She investigated the Riverbend case," Marcus said. "She found things she shouldn’t have. When she went to the inn, she found a keyholder belonging to Ethan Moreau. That name ring a bell?"
Dylan froze for half a second before he spoke again. "I don’t see what that has to do with me."
"It has everything to do with you," Marcus said. "You share the same surname. She didn’t know you were related. She found his keyholder in that hotel room, and she was ready to expose him as a fraud and a murderer. But when she came to you to excitedly tell you her new theory because you were her boyfriend, you made her forget. You compelled her."
Dylan’s brow furrowed. "You don’t even hear how that sounds. Compel her? You’re losing it."
"She came to you again," Marcus said. "She remembered from her notes, and you made her forget again. But she remembered one last time, didn’t she? That’s why you killed her. You killed her to shut her up."
Dylan slammed the glass down. "Enough! You’re out of your mind! Do you even hear the nonsense you’re saying?"
Marcus stepped forward. "I matched the time she died to the exact time every file on her phone was wiped. Her notes, her recordings, everything. You were with her. You were rushing her to the hospital. How do you explain that?"
Dylan shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I can’t believe this. While I was driving over the speed limit to get her to the hospital, nearly getting pulled over, you think I had time to take her phone, unlock it, and delete files? That doesn’t even make sense."
"It makes perfect sense if you’re what I think you are," Marcus said. "It’s not about logic. It’s about what you can do."
Dylan let out a dry laugh and sat down on the couch. "You need to stop, Marcus. You’re seeing things that aren’t there. You’ve been working too long without sleep."
Marcus clenched his fists. "You’re lying."
"And you’re desperate," Dylan said quietly. He looked up, his expression softer now. "I cared about Ivanna more than you could understand. You think I wanted her gone?"
"Then who did it?" Marcus asked. "If you didn’t, then who? Dylan, I know what I'm saying, because how else do you explain someone getting drained of blood? That's definitely not a human way of killing!"
Dylan looked at him for a long moment, then stood up. "Fine. You want the truth? I’ll tell you."
Marcus didn’t move. "So I'm right? You killed her?"
"It wasn’t me," Dylan said. "It was Lorenzo Moreau. My brother."
Marcus frowned. "Your brother?"
"Yes. And before you start with another wild guess, no, I didn’t help him. I tried to protect her." Dylan ran a hand through his hair and began pacing. "Lorenzo found out what she knew about the murder. He wanted to protect his son. He said she was getting too close, that if she talked, everything would fall apart. I told him to leave her out of it, but he didn’t listen."
"Why would his son need protection?" Marcus asked.
"Because he was set up, and because people were starting to know about our existence. People we didn't want to know," Dylan said, looking at him again. "Ethan didn’t kill anyone. But Lorenzo wanted to silence her anyway. He thought killing her would keep the truth buried. I swear I tried to stop him."
Marcus took a step closer. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don’t care what you believe," Dylan said. "You came here looking for an answer. That’s your answer."
"You’re lying," Marcus said. "You were the one with her. You were the one who wiped everything from her phone. Don’t twist this."
"I was trying to save her!" Dylan shouted. "She was dying in my car, and all I could think about was keeping her alive. I didn’t have time to think about anything else."
Marcus shook his head. "Then why were the files gone?"
"I don’t know!" Dylan yelled. "I didn’t do it. I didn’t touch her phone. You think I’d be that careless?"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes," Dylan said. "Because it’s the truth."
Marcus stared at him. "You don’t look like someone who’s telling the truth."
"And you don’t look like someone who’s thinking clearly," Dylan said. He stepped closer, his tone softer again. "You’re tired. You’ve been up for nights, chasing ghosts and fairy tales. You’re not yourself."
Marcus frowned. "Don’t do that."
"Do what?" Dylan asked.
"Talk like you know me," Marcus said. "You don’t."
"I do," Dylan said quietly. "You’re a good man. You want justice. But you’re chasing a story that’s going to eat you alive. Ivanna wouldn’t want that for you. You think I don't know you were in the same fucking orphanage?"
Marcus’s chest tightened. "Don’t talk about her."
"I have to," Dylan said. "Because you won’t let her rest."
"I’m not letting her rest because someone killed her," Marcus said. "And that someone is standing right in front of me."
Dylan exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Marcus," he said, his tone calm again, "listen to me."
"I am listening."
"No, really listen," Dylan said, taking a slow step toward him. "You’re confused. You’ve been running yourself into the ground. You’ve built a world in your head where monsters exist because it’s easier than facing the truth."
"That’s not true," Marcus said. "I have proof."
"No," Dylan said. "You have guesses. Strings that don’t connect. You’re tired. You’re exhausted."
Marcus blinked. His vision blurred for a second, and he blinked again, shaking his head. "Stop talking like that."
"Like what?" Dylan asked softly. "I’m just trying to help you. You came here for answers, didn’t you? I'm literally telling you the truth and you're not believing me. I love Ivanna with everything in me and I would do anything to keep her alive. And guess what? I stole her body from the morgue to give her a chance at life. Took her to a witch who owed me and she woke up today. Why would I kill someone only to bring them back to life?"
Marcus opened his mouth but didn’t speak. His hands felt heavy.
"Marcus," Dylan said again. "You need to go home. Get some rest. Forget this. It’s not your burden to carry."
Marcus frowned, his head starting to hurt. "No… no, I can’t…"
"You can," Dylan said, his eyes locking onto Marcus’s. "You’ve done enough. You deserve peace. You deserve quiet."
"Good," Dylan said, stepping closer. "You’ve been under too much pressure. It’s time to let it go."
Marcus blinked again, his mind fogging over.
"You’re going to go home," Dylan said. "You’re going to delete everything you’ve collected. Every file, every note. Everything from the subpoena. None of this matters anymore."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Then you’ll do your night routine and sleep," Dylan continued. "You’ll wake up tomorrow and remember that Ivanna died and got missing from the morgue and you're to drop the case. Nothing more."
Marcus’s lips moved, but no words came out.
Dylan smiled faintly. "That’s right. It’s over."
Marcus turned and walked to the door. He didn’t feel his feet moving. The night air hit his face as he stepped outside, but it didn’t feel cold anymore.
He opened the car door and sat down, staring at the steering wheel. For a long time, he didn’t move. Then he started the engine.
By the time he reached home, his head felt light and empty. He dropped his keys on the table and went straight to his desk. He turned on the laptop, opened the folder marked Evidence, and began deleting one file after another.
He didn’t stop until the screen was blank.
He sat back and rubbed his eyes before going back to his bed.
"Time to read my Bible," he mumbled, yawning. Turning to the nightstand, he picked up the Bible, and when he opened it, a note fell out.