Ebon Moon

by McDonald, Dennis

  Shocked by the fear in her mother’s voice, Megan dropped the pistol to the carpeted floor where it landed with a thump. Putting her hands over her face, she cried.

  “Listen to me, baby,” Jessica said in calmer tones. “Don’t ever play with Daddy’s gun again. It’s dangerous. Do you understand?”

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” Megan replied through her sobs.

  Jessica sat on the bed hugging her close. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that the gun could have gone off and hurt you. Never touch it again. Do you understand?”

  She nodded and sobbed in her arms. “Daddy let me play with it.”

  Jessica pulled her daughter away. “What do you mean?”

  “Daddy played a game with me.”

  “With the gun?” Jessica asked as her blood turned to ice.

  Megan nodded. “Uh huh, he showed me how to play.”

  “When Mommy was gone?”

  “Uh huh.” She nodded again.

  Hot anger flared inside Jessica. Blake had played Russian roulette with his own daughter just to get some sort of sick thrill in his psychotic mind. A horrid memory flashed from the dream she had before waking.

  “Do you still love me, Jess?”

  “Your daddy did a bad thing, baby. He is sick in the head. You must promise me you’ll never play with the gun.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good girl.” Jessica stood and picked up the pistol. She slid it under her T-shirt into the waist of her blue jeans. The steel of the .357 felt icy cold against her bare stomach. “How about breakfast, baby?” she asked, attempting a weak smile toward Megan.

  “Okay.”

  “You stay here under the blankets and keep warm. I’ll call you when it’s ready, sweetie.”

  Megan nodded and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  Jessica returned to the front room of the trailer. Through the windows, the scenic farmland lay gray beneath an overcast sky. She didn’t see Sam on his tractor or any activity in the barnyard. A light layer of frost covered the windshield of the Camaro.

  She pulled the pistol from the waistband of her jeans and placed it in a cabinet high above the stove, safe from Megan. It would do until she removed it to her car. She thought of the chilling words Megan had said about Blake and the gun game. It was just like the son of a bitch. Though he could be physically abusive, terrible mind games were a specialty of her husband. But this was a new low, even for him. She thanked God she had gotten out of the house when she did.

  Nelda had left the frying pan used to cook breakfast the day before. In the almost-bare refrigerator, she grabbed some eggs, pancake batter, and bacon left over from the same meal. She fired up the stove and soon had the trailer smelling of cooking bacon and eggs. Megan padded into the room on bare feet, perched herself at the dining table, and watched her mother.

  “Smells good, Mommy,” she commented.

  “Ready in a couple of minutes.” She smiled back.

  A sudden clattering noise sounded outside the trailer. Jessica, in the middle of picking up the frying pan from the stove burner, dropped it back on the flame in surprise. Hot grease splattered her forearm.

  “Shit!” She cursed before remembering her daughter sitting at the breakfast table.

  “What was that noise, Mommy?” Megan asked, looking around.

  “I’m not sure.” It sounded like someone had tripped over something outside the trailer. Jessica glanced toward the cabinet where she put the gun. Blake? she asked herself. Is he outside?

  Another crashing followed. The sound came from below the kitchen window. With her heart racing, Jessica rose up on her tiptoes and looked outside, half-expecting to find a strange man moving around the trailer house, or worse, Blake staring back at her. Two metal trash cans lay over on their side. From the second one, the head of a raccoon popped out from spilled garbage.

  “Come here, baby,” Jessica said with relief. “Quick.”

  “What is it?” Megan hopped out of the chair and ran to her mother. “Did Tig come back?”

  Hefting her up to sit on the kitchen counter, Jessica pointed outside. “It’s a raccoon making the noise. Do you see it?”

  As if on cue, the animal backed out of the garbage and began chewing on a piece of bread crust.

  “I do, Mommy,” Megan answered. “Wow.”

  “Isn’t he cute?”

  They watched the comical animal for a couple of minutes as it perused through the trash looking for tasty tidbits to eat. Megan was quiet and observed with rapt fascination.

  A knock sounded at the front door. Jessica glanced through a window to see Nelda wearing a heavy jacket standing on the outside deck.

  “Good you two are up,” Nelda said after Jessica let her in. “It turned cold last night. I came over to see if you got the heater going.”

  “I started it earlier,” Jessica replied.

  Nelda nodded toward Megan sitting on the kitchen counter and staring out a window. “What’s going on?”

  “A raccoon is outside in the garbage.”

  Nelda chuckled. “Welcome to life in the country. If Rocky was here that old coon would be running for the hills.”

  “I’ve got some breakfast on the stove. Care to join?”

  “Sure. Sam took the truck and went in to Stillwater to get some things. I was just sitting over at the house by myself.” She waved to Megan. “Hi, sweet pea.”

  “Hi, Aunt Nel.”

  Jessica laughed. “Aunt Nel?”

  “Sam and I have made both of you part of our family. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” Jessica removed the pan from the stove and scooped out the eggs and bacon. “I hope you like it.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Nelda said, settling into a chair. “I don’t think anyone has fixed breakfast for me in years. I feel privileged.”

  “Wait until you taste it first. I’m not as good a cook as you are.”

  Megan jumped off the counter. “The raccoon ran off.”

  “Well, come over and eat, baby,” Jessica replied and placed her daughter in a chair before a plate of eggs and bacon. To Nelda she said, “Megan told me she had fun last night while you watched her.”

  “Oh, we had a ball. We colored in her book and made hot chocolate. She was a perfect angel.” Nelda took a sip of coffee and looked up. “How did your night go?”

  “Well, I learned a new dance called the two-step and met some people at the bar.” She paused for a moment and thought of the awkward exchange between her and Dale. “In the end I got a good-night kiss and went home.”

  “By the sheriff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you the lucky girl.”

  Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know, Nelda. Dale Sutton is a gorgeous man who seems passionate and fun, but there is something else about him I can’t put my finger on. My gut tells me he is holding something back or keeping something from me. It’s almost like he is secretly married and doesn’t want me or anyone else to know about it.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened; but to tell the truth, something like that would be hard to keep secret in a small town.”

  “Doesn’t it seem strange he’s been single all this time?”

  “A stone-cold bachelor, I’m guessing.” Nelda laughed. “He’s got the Marshall Dillon syndrome.”

  “Marshal Dillon?”

  “Marshal Dillon on Gunsmoke.”

  “Gunsmoke?”

  “A television series before your time. It came on in the sixties. He was the Dodge City marshal on that damn show for many years, and I don’t think he ever once kissed a woman.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Nelda put down her coffee cup. “I got a great idea. Sam’s gone so let’s have a girls’ morning out. We can go into town and do some shopping at the Dollar Store. Both of you need clothes, and the refrigerator can use some groceries.”

  “I don’t have a lot of money, Nel.”

  “Nons
ense, I’ll pitch in and you can pay me back with what you make in tips at the bar tonight.”

  “Can we, Mommy?” Megan looked up from her finished plate.

  “Sounds fun, so why not?”

  “That’s the spirit. Sam’s taken the truck so we’ll have to drive in with your car, Jess.”

  “Not a problem.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Through the night, Blake Lobato drove the Harley on the edge of a cold front blowing south. Behind him, dark clouds gobbled up the stars and sent the temperature plunging. The land before him slept in the last vestiges of summer. He told himself he was the herald of fall, the harbinger of the season where green things die.

  In the glow of the one cyclopean headlight, the interstate raced underneath the motorcycle tires. The cold wind burned the flesh on his face and bald head raw. He didn’t care. He had his coke and hatred of Jess to keep him warm. When the approaching dawn brightened the sky to the east, he crossed from Missouri into Oklahoma, laughing like a madman. Jess was in this state somewhere. He knew it.

  The engine rumbled between his legs as he searched for any highway patrol or law enforcement. He didn’t know how long it would take Chicago PD homicide detectives to link the arson of his house and the murder of the dyke stripper. He had a short window of time to find Jess and take care of her; two or three days at best by his estimate. No matter, there was no way he would go to prison. He was on a one-way highway to hell.

  At an all-night travel stop he had purchased an Oklahoma road atlas and searched for Hope Springs through the various regional maps. He didn’t know what part of the state to look at. Only after checking the index did he find the listing “Hope Springs: Population 1168.” The town was a fly speck on the map well off the main highways.

  Is the bitch still there?

  His anger and hate had pushed him this far, but he hadn’t really contemplated what to do once he got there. He knew the sheriff in the small town had run her plates two days ago. He would have discovered she was driving a stolen car and probably threw her in jail. Without his Chicago police connections, he had no way to know. Once he arrived in town, he would take it one step at a time, observe and carefully find his wife to pay her back with the end of a baseball bat.

  He smiled to himself and rode like a man possessed, crisscrossing northern Oklahoma under a pallet of gray clouds pushed by a cold wind. The countryside blurred past on each side of the roaring bike as he chose two-lane asphalt highways over the interstate. Following the back roads, he drove past a continuous loop of farms, plowed fields, and narrow bridges. Occasionally, he entered a small town; most were nothing but a few buildings and a co-op station in the shadow of a lone grain elevator. He kept his vigilance for any highway patrol or local law enforcement, but saw none.

  It was ten in the morning when he turned on Highway 71. His heart raced at the sight of a road sign announcing Hope Springs thirteen miles ahead. He throttled the bike up to sixty-five and thundered down the ribbon of blacktop toward the small town. The cold bit at his face and hands beneath the leather gloves. He gritted his teeth against chapped lips and bent to the wind. When he thought he couldn’t take the freezing wind anymore, he topped a hill and discovered a small town waiting in the valley below. The water tower rising out of the community had “Hope Springs” painted across its face.

  He had made it at last.

  From his approach, he noticed the asphalt highway ran down the center of town. He decided to drive through Hope Springs first and get a lay of the place. Afterward, he would look for any sign of Jessica and any trail she left. He gunned the motorcycle and sped toward the outskirts.

  * * * *

  “Hold still, baby, so I can zip it up,” Jessica said, sliding the red winter jacket over Megan’s outstretched arms. Zipping up the front, she asked, “Do you like it?”

  “I do, Mommy.” Megan spun around to display the coat. “It’s pretty.”

  “Okay, let me have it back.” Jessica unzipped the coat and handed it to Nelda standing by the shopping cart in one of the aisles of the dollar store.

  “I guess we’ll take it. I’m in your debt, Nel. I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  “I know,” Nelda replied, placing the jacket on the other items they had selected. “Don’t worry about it, Jess. You and your daughter are like family now. She needs something warm to wear. I’m more than glad to help out.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica felt someone watching her and looked around the discount store. The place had a few customers moving about. Two old ladies in the next aisle were discussing curtains. She glanced toward the cash registers. A couple of college-age girls were chatting to each other behind the counter. They took turns glancing in her direction, and Jessica sensed that she was the subject of their conversation.

  She leaned in close to Nelda. “Do you know the two girls working the counter?”

  “Only one by name,” Nelda replied. “Alicia is the daughter of the coach at Morris High School. The other one is Debbie, I think.” She raised her eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

  “I think they’re talking about me.”

  Nelda smiled. “You’re the new girl in town and you’ve been seen with Sheriff Sutton. I’m not surprised.”

  “I don’t like it. I think it’s rude.”

  “It’s called life in a small town.”

  “Mommy, can I get this?” Megan asked, pulling a coloring book from the shelf. “Please, Mommy.”

  Jessica took the book and looked it over. It was the Illustrated Coloring Book of Fairy Tales. The cover showed a picture of Red Riding Hood walking down a lane in the forest with the Bad Wolf spying on her from around a tree.

  “It’s not up to me, baby. Aunt Nel is the one with the money.”

  “Please, Aunt Nel.” Megan looked up with her pleading blue eyes.

  “Now how can I turn down such a pretty face?” Nelda tossed the book into the cart. “Anyway, you’ve almost got your pictures of Jesus all colored. We can work on this one tonight.”

  Jessica pushed the shopping cart toward the checkout stand. “What do you say, Megan?”

  “Thank you, Aunt Nel.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie,” Nelda replied, giving her a hug.

  “Did you find everything all right?” the first checkout girl asked when they reached the counter. She could have lost a few pounds but was still pretty. A nose ring stuck out of one nostril. The other girl was skinnier, sporting brown hair with blonde highlights. She smacked on some gum while watching Jessica with green eyes surrounded by too much mascara.

  “Just fine.” Jessica started putting the items on the counter.

  “Your name is Jess, isn’t it?” the checkout girl asked while scanning the items. Her name tag said Alicia.

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I was out at Roxie’s last night.”

  “I see.”

  “I heard you’re working there.” The skinny girl suddenly piped up between smacks of her gum. Jessica glanced at her name tag and read Debbie.

  “That’s right.” Jessica continued unloading the shopping cart on the counter. “I start tonight.”

  “You’re dating Sheriff Sutton?” Debbie asked with eyes darting to the wedding ring on Jessica’s hand.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Well …” Debbie hesitated and smacked her gum before continuing. “Word around town is that you’ve been seeing a lot of each other. I know it’s none of my business and I’m not trying to cause any drama.”

  “Then don’t. We’re just friends.”

  “That’s good to know because he’s been asking me out. He wants to take me fishing with him out in the country.” She smacked her gum. “All alone.”

  “He said that?”

  Debbie nodded her head. “Yeah, that’s the reason I thought you’d like to know, if he’s been asking you out, too.”

  Jessica’s anger rose. “He’s a grown man and can do whatever he wants.”

  The
girl smiled. “My name’s Debbie Miller, by the way.”

  “Jessica Lobato.” Their eyes met for a second, and she read the jealousy in the girl’s gaze.

  “I might be out at Roxie’s tonight,” Debbie stated. It sounded more like a warning than a casual comment.

  “Then I’ll see you there,” Jessica replied.

  “Sixty dollars and thirty-eight cents,” Alicia said to Nelda, who placed four twenty-dollar bills in her hand. “Thanks, Nel.” Once she made change, Alicia nodded toward Megan and asked, “Is that your daughter?”

  “Yes.” Jessica grabbed up the full shopping bags.

  “She’s so pretty.”

  “Thank you.”

  She guided Megan out the exit door to the sidewalk. The cold wind hit her in the face but did little to cool the hot anger inside. She headed toward the Camaro parallel parked in front of the store.

  Nelda followed and asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Apparently I’m not the only one interested in the sheriff.”

  “She’s lying. Dale Sutton could do a lot better than that skinny trailer trash.”

  “I don’t know him that well.” Jessica opened the car trunk and placed the bags inside. She slammed it shut and shouted above the roar of a passing Harley motorcycle, “If that’s the kind of girl he wants, more power to him. I’ve got more important things to worry about than playing immature jealous games with some small-town skank.”

  She’s just trying to make you upset,” Nelda commented as she loaded Megan into the backseat.

  “Well, the bitch got the job done.” Jessica climbed into the driver’s seat and started the Camaro. She reached under the seat to make sure the .357 pistol was there before remembering she had left it in the trailer. Once Nelda was inside, she pulled out of the parking space and into the main street. At the corner, she waited behind a black Harley motorcycle and rider for the traffic light to change. The light went to green. The Harley turned left and she went straight.

  * * * *

  Blake couldn’t believe his luck. He spotted Jessica and Megan walking out of a retail store just as he drove through the middle of town. His heart jumped with surprise. He couldn’t have planned it any better. He managed to look straight ahead and not let her see his face behind the sunglasses. At the corner, the traffic light turned to red and he stopped. He shifted the rearview mirror just enough to watch the Camaro leave the curb and pull up behind his bike at the light. Jessica talked to an older woman in the front seat and seemed upset about something. Oblivious to his presence, he realized any second she might see the Harley’s Illinois plates.