The Killing Moon

by Dan Padavona

  “Tylenol.”

  “You’re already on painkillers. You can’t take anything else.”

  He waved her away.

  “Then turn off the light and let me rest.”

  “If that’s what you want. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  Mom gave him a worried glance before she edged the door shut. Her footsteps trailed away as his head thrummed. Outside, sneakers scuffled past the house. Giggles announced the trick-or-treaters a second before the doorbell rang. Hurried footfalls moved through the living room as his mother raced to gather candy. Leland rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He should be out tonight, not suffering in his bedroom.

  Despite the quiet, sleep refused to come to him. He lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling as a strange glow lit the wall. He pulled back the curtain. The sky had cleared, giving way to a full moon that took up a quarter of the horizon. It stunned him how huge the moon was. Leland turned away and closed the curtain before the moonlight ignited his headache.

  Accepting he’d never fall asleep, he pointed the remote at the television. He couldn’t stomach Call of Duty. The game reminded him of Derek, of late nights laughing beside his best friend as they warred against zombies and digital soldiers. Leland scrolled through the channels and stopped on a horror movie. He’d seen John Carpenter’s Halloween more times than he could count, but the familiarity relaxed him. With a sigh, he settled into the pillow.

  The doorbell rang. Leland grabbed a second pillow and placed it over his ear, content to watch the movie in silence, since it meant he wouldn’t hear the doorbell ringing all night. On the screen, Jamie Lee Curtis cowered with a knife as a ghostly face appeared from the gloom. The closet door groaned when it opened, causing Leland to jump. Confused, he realized the sound hadn’t come from the television. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Someone was right behind him.

  Setting the remote down, Leland froze. A shadow passed over the carpet, and for a moment, he wanted to believe it was Derek. That the police had made a mistake and identified the wrong boy. That Leland’s best friend was still alive and playing a Halloween joke on him.

  He whirled and stared into the leering eyes of the Halloween Man. It couldn’t be him. The killer was just a figment of Valerie’s imagination. Yet the murderer stood over Leland with the moonlight haloing his frame. Crazed eyes glared at the teenager from inside the mask. Leland opened his lips to scream before a powerful hand clamped down on his mouth. He thrashed and bucked, his feet prying cushions off the couch as the killer raised the butcher’s knife.

  The blade cut through his chest. Raised and plunged again.

  Blood sprayed the couch, the curtains, the walls.

  As the movie reached its climax, the murderer left Leland to die. The window opened, and the chilling breath of night touched the dying teenager. Leland’s eyes stared into the killing moon as the room turned black.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  October 31st

  6:35 p.m.

  The sheriff’s head buzzed. Valerie Leonard was Violet Lyon. The girl faked her own murder during an internet stream hours before someone stabbed her boyfriend. Thomas hadn’t spoken to Scout since the supposed murder. Everything he’d learned about the podcast had come secondhand through Chelsey, LeVar, and Raven. Wasn’t there something about a legendary killer returning to Barton Falls on Halloween night?

  Inside the Kane Grove PD break room, he peeked through the window. A full moon screamed in the night sky. It seemed to stare at him. The research linking lunar activity to violent crimes was shaky at best. Some studies suggested correlation. Others refuted the notion. In Thomas’s experience, murders increased under full moons.

  Thomas sipped his tea and peered beyond the parking lot. Barton Falls lay on the horizon, the town’s lights flickering like hundreds of distant fireflies. Chewing on an apple, he returned to the bullpen where Detective Presley conferred with Officer Stanton in the corner. A half-dozen officers worked overtime tonight, but all were out in the field, patrolling Kane Grove and Barton Falls. Thomas believed he was wasting time here. Presley wanted to pin Derek Jordan’s murder on Troy Dean, and there was nothing he could do to change her mind.

  He joined Presley and Stanton at the desk and told them about the Violet Lyon connection. Presley leaned back and tapped a pen against her palm.

  “That’s curious. Their little skit might be related to the murder.”

  “Or it might be a coincidence,” Thomas said, staring down at his clasped hands. “Except I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Now I’m curious.” Presley typed at Stanton’s terminal and located Violet Lyon’s website. The detective opened her mouth. “Wow. Have you seen this?”

  Thomas swung his chair around the desk. Gory images from famous horror movies filled the screen. Bloody corpses, screaming faces, severed body parts.

  “I’d say Valerie Leonard is into some pretty sick stuff,” Officer Stanton said, setting the case folder aside.

  “Sick enough to murder her boyfriend?” asked Presley.

  “That’s a stretch,” Thomas said, though the disturbing images roiled his stomach. He pointed at the archive link along the top of the screen. “Click on the archive and find that podcast.”

  A screen appeared with replays of Violet Lyon’s recent podcasts.

  “This must be the one,” Presley said, moving the mouse pointer over last night’s entry. “Want me to click play?”

  “Go ahead.”

  The podcast began with a montage of creepy music. Then the sing-song voice of a teenage girl welcomed listeners to her show. As Stanton and Presley leaned toward the speakers, Thomas’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.

  “Sheriff Shepherd,” he said, placing the phone to his ear.

  Presley set her coffee down and watched Thomas as Stanton concentrated on Valerie’s voice.

  “Sheriff, you said I could call if I had information about Derek’s murder.”

  Valerie Leonard. It was unsettling hearing the girl talk through the computer speakers and the phone at the same time. He snapped his fingers and prompted Stanton to kill the sound.

  “Is that you, Valerie?”

  Presley questioned Thomas with her eyes, and Thomas mouthed, “Valerie Leonard.” The detective scribbled a note and handed it to Thomas. The note read, speaker phone. Thomas set the phone on the desk.

  “Yes, this is Valerie.”

  Worry colored the teenager’s voice.

  “You’re on speaker phone with Detective Presley and Officer Stanton with the Kane Grove Police Department. You have information related to Derek Jordan’s murder?”

  A sniffle.

  “I know who killed Derek.”

  Presley glared at Thomas. The sheriff picked up a pen.

  “Who murdered Derek, Valerie?”

  “It was our teacher, Mr. Pierpoint.”

  Thomas confirmed the spelling and pointed at Stanton, who ran a search on the teacher.

  “Why do you believe Mr. Pierpoint killed Derek?”

  “He called me an hour ago. I don’t even know how he got my number.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was very upset over Derek. I’m pretty sure he was crying. But he said some weird stuff that scared me.”

  “Like what?”

  “That he sleepwalks and doesn’t remember where he went or what he did.”

  “Did he say he attacked Derek?”

  Valerie moaned.

  “He implied it, yes.”

  Thomas copied the relevant information on Mr. Pierpoint, as Valerie mentioned the teacher’s close relationship with Derek Jordan.

  “We’re sending an officer to your house,” Thomas said.

  “That’s not a good idea. My father is upset. He’ll get angry if he finds out.”

  “Let us worry about your father. But I need to ask you an important question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Who is the Halloween Man?�
�

  Silence. Thomas waited before prompting Valerie again.

  Finally, the girl spoke.

  “He’s not real. I made him up to scare people.”

  “You’re Violet Lyon,” Thomas said, as Stanton handed him a printout of Pierpoint’s driver’s license. There was something untrustworthy about the man’s eyes. Was the teacher their killer?

  “Yes, I’m Violet Lyon.”

  “Okay, Valerie. Since Derek’s attack, has anything out of the ordinary happened?”

  “I saw the Halloween Man at school. He’s following me.”

  Presley shot Thomas a look of disbelief.

  “But you just said he’s not real.”

  “Someone heard my podcast and brought the Halloween Man to life.”

  “You mean someone is posing as the Halloween Man and stalking you?”

  “Yes,” the girl said, choking on her fear. Valerie recounted the locker room incident and the masked man in the parking lot. As Thomas took notes, Valerie described the mythical killer’s appearance.

  “Don’t go anywhere, Valerie. An officer will monitor your house from the curb.”

  Presley confirmed a cruiser would arrive at the Leonard house in ten minutes. Valerie’s description of the killer kept running through Thomas’s head.

  “Detective, get me the evidence bag from this morning. The one with the orange piece of rubber we picked out of the meadow.”

  Presley retrieved the evidence and returned it to her desk. Directing the desk lamp over the bag, Thomas held the evidence up to the light.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “Valerie claims her made-up killer wears a pumpkin mask. Does that look like Halloween orange to you?”

  Presley took the bag and squinted at the piece of rubber.

  “Could be. It’s too small to be sure.”

  “Hey,” Stanton said, leaning forward. “Doesn’t Derek Jordan’s stepfather work at a Halloween costume shop?”

  “That’s a good point. And he had motive to murder his stepson.” Presley ground her teeth as she considered the evidence. “What if Valerie Leonard killed Derek Jordan?”

  Thomas set the bag aside.

  “What makes you think she’s the killer?”

  “You said it yourself. There’s something off about that girl, and she has an unhealthy fixation with violent horror movies.”

  “Video games and movies don’t turn teenagers into serial killers, Detective.”

  “No, but her father drives a black Volkswagen Passat.”

  “Which we still haven’t examined.”

  “Valerie left the house last night without her parents knowing. It’s possible she stole the car, murdered Derek, and drove home before they realized she’d left.”

  “It’s also possible Ed Leonard murdered Derek Jordan because he didn’t approve of his daughter’s boyfriend.”

  “We need to examine those tires.”

  “Agreed,” Thomas said, sitting back. “What about Mr. Pierpoint? We need to speak with him.”

  “I’ll have the car patrolling that end of town cruise past his house. In the meantime, let’s check out Ed Leonard’s car.”

  Stanton folded his hands over his belly and said, “No way we’ll get a search warrant for the Passat.”

  Presley snatched the keys from inside her desk.

  “Maybe not. But Ed Leonard can’t hide inside his house forever.”

  As they stood from their chairs, the desk phone rang. Stanton picked it up while Presley slipped into her jacket. Before the sheriff and detective could leave, Stanton waved his arm.

  Presley sat a hand on her hip.

  “What now?”

  “Leland Trivett was rushed to Kane Grove Hospital. Someone broke into his bedroom and stabbed him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  October 31st

  6:55 p.m.

  Thomas slammed his brakes as he drove into Barton Falls. A parade of costumed children marched down Main Street, blocking access to downtown. He checked the mirror and reversed the vehicle, tires squealing as he wheeled around and took a side street.

  His pulse raced. He needed to be two places at-once. While Detective Presley and Officer Stanton investigated the Leland Trivett stabbing, Thomas drove toward the Leonard’s residence four blocks from the latest attack. He awaited word on the stabbed teenager. The medical team had rushed Leland into emergency surgery. Thomas bit his lip, praying the kid survived.

  Mountains of raked leaves girded the road. Dialing the phone as he directed the vehicle through the dark, Thomas waited for someone to answer at the Leonard house. On the second try, Charisse Leonard picked up the phone. The woman’s voice cracked. She’d finished crying recently.

  “Mrs. Leonard, this is Sheriff Shepherd. Is your husband home this evening?”

  “Not at the moment. Valerie is resting upstairs. What’s this about, Sheriff?”

  “Good. Let Valerie rest and don’t let her leave the house. Where’s your husband, Mrs. Leonard? It’s important I speak with him.”

  “Ed left for the store an hour ago. He should have returned by now. If you leave me your number—”

  “What store, Mrs. Leonard?”

  “Barret’s on East Court Street. It’s a grocery store.”

  “Thank you. I’m familiar with the store.” Thomas read Mrs. Leonard his number. “If your husband returns in the next few minutes, call me at this number. Also, there’s a Kane Grove PD cruiser moving through your neighborhood. Don’t be alarmed.”

  “Are we safe, Sheriff?”

  “That’s what the cruiser is there for. It’s merely a precaution. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  Thomas ended the call and eyed his GPS. Barret’s was on the far end of Barton Falls, three miles behind him. And the parade downtown prevented him from taking a direct route. He executed a three-point turn and circumvented the town center. A few blocks past the train yards, emergency lights whirled at the end of the street outside the Trivett residence.

  Ed Leonard left the house before six o’clock. That gave him time to drive to the Trivett house, stab Leland, and hide the weapon. If he’d driven to the grocery store, as Charisse claimed, Thomas might catch Ed before he left.

  As he traversed Barton Falls, Thomas crossed one suspect off the list. Troy Dean. Dean couldn’t have stabbed Leland Trivett. The gang leader remained in lockup inside the Kane Grove Police Department. But his bodyguards remained at-large.

  Thomas doused the emergency lights and coasted into the grocery store parking lot, not wanting to draw Ed Leonard’s attention. He motored through the first two rows before he spotted the black Volkswagen Passat at the rear of the lot. He swung into the neighboring space and stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the motor running. The Passat matched the eyewitness’s description from the train yards last night. But there were a lot of dark sedans on the road. No guarantee this was the killer’s car.

  He removed a pen light from his pocket and aimed the beam at the front tire on the passenger side. He recalled the tread pattern from the CSI report. The pattern on Leonard’s front tires appeared similar. He shone the light through the driver’s side window, ensuring nobody hid inside. The front seats were empty. A gym bag lay in the back. Glancing around the parking lot, Thomas touched the door handle. Unlocked.

  Before he decided whether he should open the door, a gruff voice shouted from the parking lot.

  “Hey! Get away from my car!”

  Ed Leonard pushed a shopping cart as he jogged toward Thomas. Two loaves of bread peeked out from one paper bag. The second bag held a few canned goods.

  “Good evening, Mr. Leonard.”

  A vein pulsed in the man’s neck. Face red, Ed Leonard curled his hands into fists.

  “This is harassment. Twice today, you’ve bothered me. What do you think you’re doing, shining a flashlight inside my car? You don’t have a search warrant.”

  “I don’t need a search warrant. You’re parked in
the open.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to break inside my car.”

  Thomas swept the light over the gym bag.

  “What’s in the bag, sir?”

  “My gym clothes, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Moving around the Passat, Thomas blocked Leonard’s path to the driver’s side door.

  “Do you mind opening the bag and showing me?”

  “Yes, I mind. Like I told you. You want to search my house or vehicle, come back with a warrant. And stay the hell away from my daughter.”

  Thomas angled the beam toward Leonard. The man fumed, muscles taut, a live wire of hatred running through the suspect’s body.

  “Where were you between six and six-thirty this evening?”

  Leonard’s face twisted with incredulity.

  “That’s why they shouldn’t let dimwits like you hold law enforcement positions. I read all about you, Sheriff. I’m all for equal opportunity, but there’s a reason they don’t let blind people drive city buses.”

  Thomas twitched.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Leonard.”

  “Shopping for groceries. See?” Leonard lifted the bags and set them down. “Happy now?”

  “It took you an hour to purchase six items?”

  Leonard glanced around uncertainly and scratched behind his ear.

  “So what if it did?”

  “Seems you could have made the trip in twenty minutes. That leaves your whereabouts unaccounted for between six and six-thirty.”

  “I don’t know what you’re implying. But there’s no law against browsing. Maybe I needed to get out of the house after all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. Now, if you don’t move out of my way, I’ll slap a lawsuit on the county that will make your head spin.”

  “When was the last time you replaced your tires?”

  Leonard glared at Thomas.

  “What kind of question is that? They’re legal. My car passed inspection last month.”

  “Humor me, please.”

  “Before spring. I use snow tires during the winter and change them out the first week of March.”