The Killing Moon

by Dan Padavona

  Valerie ran past the dummy and shot a look over her shoulder before turning the corner. She didn’t stop shaking until she sat at her desk with her knapsack stuffed beneath the chair. Mrs. Wilkinson eyed her disapprovingly from the front of the room. The woman tapped her watch twice, acknowledging Valerie had arrived late for homeroom. Again.

  Valerie blew out an exasperated breath and fiddled with her phone. Students gossiped around her. It was all white noise.

  She sent a text to Derek.

  Stay up late with Leland last night? Just say no.

  She giggled to herself over the Nancy Reagan reference, steadying her nerves after the encounters with Mr. Pierpoint and the strange janitor. A hand touched her back, and Valerie jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to Maxine. The freckled, ginger-haired girl leaned back.

  “Whoa. Easy, Valerie.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little jumpy this morning.”

  “Just a little. So I listened to the show last night.”

  Valerie stopped herself from rolling her eyes. A senior member of the drama club, Maxine spent her evenings reading Shakespeare, not watching scary movies.

  “Oh, thanks.”

  Maxine covered her mouth.

  “It was so good. You had me going for a while. But I said to myself, ‘Valerie is all right. I don’t need to call the police.’”

  Setting her phone on the desk, Valerie leaned over her chair.

  “You were going to call the police?”

  “Heck, yes. You know, Valerie, you should join the drama club. Someone with your skill set would fit right in as a writer or actor.”

  “That’s kind of you to say,” said Valerie, figuring Maxine was building her up to bring her down.

  Everyone considered Maxine the best actress to come through their school in decades. Remembering Maxine spent three hours in the auditorium every weekday, rehearsing for the upcoming school play, Valerie cupped her hand to her mouth so the others wouldn’t overhear.

  “Hey, Maxine. Is Mr. Pierpoint helping with the school play this year?”

  The blood drained from Maxine’s face.

  “Oh, God. He is beyond weird,” Maxine said, drawing her chair beside Valerie’s. “He’s not directing this year, but he’s always around. Noelle says he left his wife. Now all he does is stare at us during rehearsal.”

  Valerie shook her head.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “He always watches us from the back of the auditorium. Last week, I opened the girl’s dressing room after rehearsal, and he was paging through the script. The directors aren’t supposed to enter the dressing rooms until after we leave, and Pierpoint isn’t even part of the team. That guy freaks me out.”

  The bell rang, signaling first period would begin in three minutes. Valerie gathered her belongings and cringed. She had literature with Mr. Pierpoint during first period.

  As the students filed out of the room, she glanced outside. Through the window, dead autumn leaves blew around the athletic fields. A gray handball wall jutted out of the earth. Beyond that, a row of trees, where a shadow shifted amid the thicket.

  Valerie caught her breath. Someone was watching from the darkness.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “How are you handling your father’s death?”

  Thomas bounces his legs and rubs the back of his hand across his lips. The question is inevitable, yet it catches him off guard.

  Dr. Ryka Mandal brushes sable hair over her shoulder and gives him time to respond. When he first visited Mandal last spring, he found her thick accent distracting. He’s used to it now, her voice familiar as a favorite song.

  “I worry about my mother. She wears a smile whenever I enter the room, whether at the office, or when I visit the estate. It seems like an act.”

  Mandal nods and waits. He didn’t answer the question. She won’t continue until he voices his own feelings. Which is a problem. He doesn’t know how to respond. Can’t process the myriad emotions churning his insides.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “The week before he passed, your father said he was proud of you,” she says, prodding him to open up. “That he loved you.”

  His chest thickens.

  “I don’t recall him speaking those words when I was young.”

  “How are you processing everything?”

  Mandal crosses one leg over the other and sets her notes aside. This is an important moment. His response should be significant, perhaps even poetic. How does one describe emotions he barely understands?

  “I can’t believe he’s gone. It hurts.”

  She nods, coaxing the words out of him as though he’s on his hands and knees in a bathroom, purging his body of a stomach flu. Then the words burst forth without warning.

  “My whole life, I wanted to scream in his face. He didn’t allow me to breathe, made me feel unworthy of the family name. And when my interest in law enforcement grew, he called me a fool.” Thomas leans forward and drops his head toward his knees. “I see the truth now. My parents worried about me. They were certain something terrible would happen if I became a police officer, so they acted out of fear.”

  Thomas shakes his head and laughs without mirth.

  “And based on all that happened to me, they were right.”

  “Yet he showed his pride in the last days of his life and expressed his feelings.”

  “Yes. Now I’m unsure how to live without him.”

  October 31st

  9:50 a.m.

  A shape moved through the fog. Thomas wiped the mist off his face and struggled through the meadow. As he approached, wary of the butcher’s knife clutched in the killer’s hand, the shadow vanished and reappeared a hundred feet away. The fog made it impossible for Thomas to track the suspect. His mind kept flashing back to the teenage boy’s face—eyes peering at the stars, a minefield of stab wounds cutting into his chest. The boy was someone’s child. Who would commit such an atrocity?

  “Thomas.”

  He swung around in the fog, hearing his father’s voice.

  “Father?”

  “Get out of the fog before he finds you.”

  “It’s my job to catch him.”

  “You’re not safe here, Thomas. It will never be safe, if you insist on risking your life for others.”

  His hands swiped at the mist, as though he could wave away the morass. Somewhere, a knocking sound echoed through the meadow.

  “Thomas, wake up.”

  Thomas blinked three times and opened his eyes. Dull morning light filtered through a slate gray overcast, pouring inside the cruiser. He turned toward the source of the noise and found Aguilar peering through the glass. He turned the key in the ignition and lowered the window.

  “Sorry, Sheriff. I know you wanted to sleep a few hours while the techs sifted through the evidence.”

  “It’s okay, I’m awake.”

  “A shop owner in Wolf Lake phoned the department. She noticed a man lingering outside her shop on Main Street. Claims she recognized the man’s picture from the BOLO on Mark Benson.”

  Thomas sat forward.

  “Benson is in Wolf Lake?”

  “State Police are sending two troopers to the village.”

  “Benson returning to Wolf Lake makes sense. Revenge drives his decision making, even though he increases the chances we’ll catch him.”

  “Listen, I finished my report. If you want, I can drive back to Wolf Lake and check around.”

  Thomas shifted his jaw.

  “Talk to the shop owner. Find out if she really saw Benson and check the neighboring stores for security cameras. If we’re lucky, a camera caught him.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Check the Main Street traffic camera too.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit. We should convince the village to fund additional cameras. If he stole a vehicle, we need the model and license plate number.”

  “Yes, Sheriff. While I’m in the village, should I pay Raven Hopkins a visit
?”

  “I’d appreciate it, Aguilar. In the meantime, I’ll call Chelsey and make sure she’s aware Benson might be in Wolf Lake. Someone should watch Raven’s back today.”

  Thomas crossed the parking lot as Aguilar drove off. The morning air still carried a December bite. A school bus with Halloween decorations taped to the passenger windows rumbled through the intersection, reminding Thomas his priority was catching a killer. It wasn’t safe for children to celebrate the holiday with a murderer loose.

  The Kane Grove Police Department sat inside a turn of the century three-story brick building with white doors. The structure also housed the city court. Thomas took the stairs from the lobby to the lower level, the steps difficult to navigate until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Detective Presley waved him into her office as he passed the front desk.

  “Did you catch some sleep?”

  “Enough,” Thomas said, accepting the coffee she offered him.

  “We’re already expanding the search for Mark Benson. The chief sent a cruiser to his old gymnasium. If he still has the keys, that would be a smart place to hide.”

  “There’s also a farmhouse outside Wolf Lake. That’s where Ramos and Benson held Ellie Fisher and Raven Hopkins.”

  “Give me the background on that story again.”

  “Damian Ramos’s fiance hired Wolf Lake Consulting to investigate Ramos over the summer. Turns out her concerns were legitimate. Ramos and Benson wanted her money after they entered some stock trade that went south. They were both over-leveraged, and Benson’s gym teetered close to bankruptcy. The two men kidnapped Ellie Fisher, who Ramos and Benson knew from the gym. Fisher’s family left her a sizable inheritance, enough money to make Benson’s troubles disappear. After Fisher vanished, Raven Hopkins suspected Ramos and drove to Benson’s gym to spy on him. Benson attacked her in the locker room and took her to the farmhouse with Fisher.”

  “Sounds like Benson is desperate for money and revenge.”

  “What do we have on our John Doe?”

  Presley motioned at the seat across from her desk. Thomas slid into the chair as Presley typed on her computer.

  “So the techs haven’t gotten the phone to turn on yet. The drop caused internal damage, and water seeped inside the case.”

  “What about the SD card?”

  “The team is pulling data off the card now. No guarantees, but if they grab the data, we’ll obtain the information we need to identify the boy. At the same time, I’m searching the missing persons database. So far, no teenagers match our teenager’s description.”

  “That’s crazy. You’d think his parents would be worried sick.”

  Presley sighed.

  “That was my assumption too. Except we’re dealing with Barton Falls. The family structure cracked decades ago in that town.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  October 31st

  10:00 a.m.

  Wolf Lake Consulting smelled like a movie theater. Inside the kitchen, the microwave whirred and buzzed as popcorn kernels burst inside a sealed bag. Seated at her desk, Raven leaned back in her chair and switched the phone to her other ear.

  “Chances are Benson won’t come after me,” Raven told Darren, not believing her own words.

  Sitting at her desk, she listened as Chelsey opened cupboards inside the kitchen. Wolf Lake Consulting resided in a two-bedroom, single-story house three miles from the lake. Nestled in the village center, the converted home was a short walk from eateries and cafes. But Chelsey and Raven preferred taking advantage of the kitchen and eating at work. Raven’s stomach couldn’t handle anything heavier than popcorn this morning, not with an escaped convict stalking her.

  “I wish I could be there,” Darren said.

  She heard him swishing through the grass and pictured him walking the ridge trail. Raven propped her feet on the desk.

  “You can’t abandon the state park. We’ll get together after work, like we planned.”

  “Raven, I don’t want you alone today.”

  “Chelsey is working with me this morning, and LeVar starts his shift at noon. I’m safe.”

  “You’re armed?”

  “Always.”

  Darren groaned.

  “This situation doesn’t feel right.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Listen, if you want to do me a solid, check with my mother. Naomi Mourning is picking her up after work. Until then, Mom’s alone at the house.”

  “She’s taking the danger seriously?”

  “Not really, but I can’t mother her twenty-four hours a day. Anyhow, the faster we catch Benson, the better.”

  “I’ll call your mother now.”

  Raven thanked Darren and ended the call as Chelsey carried the popcorn bowl into the office. Chelsey set two cans of sparkling water on the desk and popped a kernel into her mouth. Since their blowup over the summer, Raven and Chelsey had grown close again. At her lowest point, Chelsey had collapsed at the mall during an anxiety attack. She’d boxed herself in, pushing away her friends as Chelsey had done when major depression crippled her during her teenage years. Since she’d spoken with a therapist, the color had returned to Chelsey’s face, and she attacked each day with renewed vigor. Her rekindled relationship with Thomas played a role, though Raven suspected Chelsey’s improved mental health caused her to reunite with Thomas, rather than the other way around. A chicken and egg scenario.

  Still, Raven watched Chelsey like a hawk as her friend called up their case notes on a terminal. It was important Chelsey focused on her health, rather than looking after others. Depression wasn’t a sign of weakness. Chemical imbalances explained many depression cases. Provided Chelsey sought counseling and followed her prescriptions, she’d stay a step ahead of depression.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Chelsey said, clicking a photograph of Mark Benson.

  A tremble moved through Raven’s body. She studied Benson’s picture—gray hair and mustached, a chiseled chin. Benson might have looked like someone’s friendly uncle were it not for the devilry swimming inside his black eyes. The first time Raven encountered Benson was outside his gym. While she photographed Ramos flirting with Ellie Fisher, Benson watched her over the security cameras. The muscular gym owner accosted Raven in the parking lot, claiming he’d call the police if she didn’t leave.

  “Where would Benson go after escaping prison?” Chelsey asked, tapping his picture with her nails.

  “He doesn’t have transportation. The county impounded his vehicle after the arrest. If I was Benson, I’d steal a car after I escaped prison. Something nondescript, nothing flashy.”

  Chelsey called up a list of stolen vehicles reported after yesterday’s escape.

  “Wow. Four-hundred-seventy-two vehicles stolen statewide in the last twenty-four hours. I love New York.”

  “That doesn’t narrow our search.”

  “Maybe if we confine the scan to the area around the prison.” The browser paused as internet traffic slowed to a crawl. “Here we go. Fourteen vehicles.”

  “That’s better. Print the list so we have copies.”

  Chelsey snatched the papers off the printer and handed Raven a copy.

  “What else do we know about Mark Benson?”

  “Besides that he’s a psycho? He was broke. That’s why he abducted Ellie Fisher.” Raven snapped her fingers. “Now that I think about it, Benson closed his bank account and withdrew the last of his money a day before the arrest.”

  “How much did he withdraw?”

  “A little over a thousand dollars. Not enough to live off, but he could buy a plane or bus ticket.”

  Setting an ankle on her knee, Chelsey leaned back in her chair and munched popcorn.

  “He must have hidden his money before the sheriff’s department caught him. Does he still own the gym in Kane Grove?”

  Raven shook her head.

  “Bankrupt.”

  “Did another business purchase the building?”

  Scratching her chin, Raven rol
led the chair to her desk and loaded a Kane Grove real estate website on the computer. After perusing the commercial listings, she set the mouse aside and said, “The property is still for sale. The realty agency is marketing the building as a gymnasium and fitness center.”

  “So they haven’t gutted the building, and the equipment is still inside. Interesting.”

  “You think he stashed the money in the gym?”

  “That would be risky, but Benson isn’t the sharpest tool in the drawer.”

  “Perhaps he hid the money inside the farmhouse. I drove past that place last month. It’s uninhabited.”

  “That gives us two places to search for Benson.”

  Raven slid her chair to Chelsey’s desk.

  “I’m concerned he’ll make trouble for Ellie Fisher. What if he kidnaps her again and ransoms her off?”

  “That would be insane. Every law enforcement agency in the country would expect him to go after Fisher.”

  “The most dangerous criminal is the one who doesn’t care, and Benson has nothing to lose. Even if he makes it across the border, he won’t survive without money.”

  “True. So what do we do?”

  “Stake out the gym and the farmhouse,” Raven said.

  “We can’t watch two places at-once.”

  “Wait until LeVar shows up at noon and take him with you to the farmhouse. I’ll swing past the gym, then check on Ellie Fisher on my way back to Wolf Lake.”

  “No, you won’t. You aren’t going anywhere alone.”

  “What’s the risk? I’ll watch the gymnasium from across the street.” When Chelsey sent her a disapproving glare, Raven blew the hair out of her eyes. “I’ll be around people. Benson won’t attack me in broad daylight with a few dozen witnesses nearby. Besides, I’m prepared for every eventuality.”

  Raven patted the holstered gun.

  “I don’t like this. At least take Darren with you.”

  “Darren can’t leave the park until four. By then, Benson will grab the money and slip through our fingers.”