Ebon Moon

  “Here’s some hot coffee, dear,” Nelda said in a quiet voice as she put the cup on the stand beside the recliner.

  “Thank you.”

  She took a seat on the couch across from her. “You’re welcome to sleep here tonight, Jess. You don’t have to be alone in the trailer. This couch folds out into a bed. I think we’d feel better if you stayed here.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “I’m glad you were able to come as fast as you did. I tried to comfort her, but there’s nothing like a mother’s love.”

  “I knew I had to be here. I could feel it in my bones.” She brushed a curl out of Megan’s sleeping face. “I might have lost my job, though.”

  “You think so?”

  Jessica nodded. “The bar was packed, and Roxie and I were the only ones working. When I left she gave me an angry look before I went out the door. I didn’t get the impression she wanted me to come back. I know I owe you money, Nel. I’ll have to find another job to repay you. I’m sorry.”

  “I never did like that Roxie girl,” Nelda replied, taking a sip from her coffee cup. “The roadhouse was a pretty nice place to go on Friday night back when it was called the Boggy Bottom Bar. An elderly couple owned it. When Roxie and her brother took over the place, Sam and I stopped going. Roxie flaunted her body in clothes so tight a schoolgirl couldn’t fit in them. Men were always drooling over her, but she gave me the creeps. There’s just something about her. ”

  “I think her brother Collin’s a meth head. You should have seen the wild and crazy look in his eyes tonight.”

  “I’m not surprised with some of the people that frequent the place now.”

  “Which reminds me,” Jessica said. “I had to fight off a drunk when I was leaving the bar to come here.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Some guy named Brody. One of Debbie Miller’s friends, which makes me think she may have set the thing up. He followed me out of the bar and tried to come on to me, but I pushed him away and drove out of there.”

  “That settles it then. I don’t think you should go back. It’s not safe for you to work there.”

  “Pearl was right,” Jessica said with a chuckle. “The place does get crazy on a full moon.”

  Minutes passed while she comforted Megan. She was about to say something to Nelda when headlights brightened the living room curtains. The crunch of tires and the stopping of an engine signaled a car had pulled up in the drive. Sam came out of the dining room and looked out the front door.

  “Who is it, Sam?” Nelda asked.

  “Sheriff Sutton.”

  “You didn’t call the sheriff, did you, Sam?”

  “Nope.”

  Nelda looked at Jessica from across the room. “I wonder what he wants at this late hour.”

  “Best let him in and find out,” Sam said, opening the front door.

  “Evening, Sam,” Sheriff Sutton’s voice came from the foyer.

  “Can I help you, Sheriff?”

  “I want to talk to Jessica.”

  “It’s kind of late for a social call.”

  “I just need to ask her a few questions.”

  “She’s right in here.” Sam motioned for him to enter. Sheriff Sutton looked tired as he stepped into the room. There was seriousness cast to his face coupled with weariness in his blue eyes. His took off his hat and held it in his hands. Tipping his head toward Nelda, he said, “Evening, Nel.”

  “Good evening, Sheriff.”

  He next nodded to Jessica. “Hello, Jess.”

  “You want to ask me some questions?”

  “I do, but it would be best in private. Can you step outside for a bit?”

  “I just got Megan to sleep.”

  Nelda stood up and came over. “I’ll take her, dear.”

  “Okay.”

  She eased the sleeping child out of her arms into Nelda’s. Megan didn’t even stir during the exchange.

  Jessica stood, saying to Nel, “I’ll be right outside if she needs me.”

  Once out on the front porch, the brisk night air reminded Jessica she still wore a thin spaghetti strap black top. She hugged herself to help retain body warmth.

  “Perhaps it would be more comfortable speaking in my car,” the sheriff suggested.

  “Okay,” Jessica replied.

  Inside the patrol car, the sheriff started the engine and turned up the heater. In the glow from the dash lights, Jessica studied his rugged features while his musky scent filled her nostrils. Breathing in his aroma, her pulse quickened but she fought down the attraction. With her life spiraling out of control, she needed to focus on Megan and not lust for another man.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make it out to the bar tonight. I had to respond to a call. Some teenage boys broke into a farmer’s house,” Sheriff Sutton said.

  “It’s okay, I understand.” Jessica looked away toward the moon.

  “If I had been there then none of this would have happened.”

  “None of what?” Jessica asked, turning toward him again.

  “Well, Jess …” Sheriff Sutton pulled up a metal chart holder and flipped it open. “I’ve got some questions to ask, so please answer truthfully. I want to say, first off, I’ve come to really like you and your daughter, but I’m here in my professional capacity as an officer of the law. It’s nothing personal. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Jessica said with a sinking feeling in her gut. Something was wrong.

  “I got a call to go to Roxie’s and came here from there. What happened when you were leaving the bar?”

  “Someone named Brody grabbed me as I was getting in my car to leave. I told him to stay away. He was really drunk.”

  Sheriff Sutton wrote on an incident report clipped to the metal binder. The pen made scratchy noises in the confines of the car. “He reported you pulled a gun on him.”

  Jessica let out a sigh of desperation. “I have a .357 magnum revolver that I keep close for my protection. It’s under the front seat of my car.”

  “Is it registered?”

  “It belongs to my husband.”

  “So it’s registered under his name?”

  “I think so. Blake Lobato is a Chicago police officer.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Sheriff Sutton’s eyes met her for a second. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “We promised not to dwell on each other’s past, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “Is the guy trying to press charges against me?” Jessica fought back new tears at the growing anxiety. She didn’t need trouble with the law. “I should be reporting him.”

  “How was Brody when you left?”

  “I scared the hell out of him. Hopefully, he learned a lesson not to attack women.”

  “So he wasn’t injured?”

  “I didn’t shoot his ass, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jessica replied as a growing panic rose inside. “Why? Did something happen to him?”

  “Someone hit him from behind and nearly caved his head in with a club. It happened right after you drove off. Almost killed him. He’s on his way to County Regional to get his scalp stitched together. He says a friend of yours did it.”

  “I just moved to town. I don’t really know anybody, yet,” she stated, and added, “except for Nelda and Sam, of course, and they were here watching Megan.”

  “So you have no idea who might have done it?”

  “None.”

  “Anyone pay special attention to you in the bar?”

  “Look how I’m dressed.” Jessica glanced down at her black top and tight jeans. “A lot of men paid attention to me.”

  Sheriff Sutton smiled. “Point taken.”

  “There were a bunch of bikers in the bar, and Brody was acting like an asshole. He could have pissed anybody off.”

  “Your husband doesn’t know you’re here in Hope Springs?”

  A sudden chill went down her spine at the thought. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t even know what state I’m i
n.”

  “You haven’t called or contacted him?”

  “Of course not,” Jessica replied with a tinge of anger in her voice. “I’m trying to get away from the abusive bastard.”

  Sheriff Sutton closed his metal report holder. “End of interrogation. That’s all the information I need for now. If there are any more questions, I’ll come by tomorrow.” He suddenly reached out and took her hand. She looked down in surprise. “You’re not angry, are you?” He emphasized the question by giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

  Jessica let out a breath. “I’m just overwhelmed. I had to leave Roxie’s tonight because Megan needed me here. I probably lost my job and then you show up asking me questions. I’m under a lot of stress.”

  “If you want, I can talk to Roxie and put a good word in for you.”

  “I don’t know if I want to go back if it means being assaulted every time I leave.”

  “I’ll be there next time you get off work. I’ll make sure you get home safely.” He showed his white smile. “Okay?”

  Jessica nodded. “Okay.”

  He bent in and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Don’t think I forgot about our dancing together last night. I had a great time.”

  “So did I.” His face was so close it caused her to look deep in his blue eyes. His scent clouded her mind. She fought back the urge to reach up and pull him in for another kiss but knew to do so would push her beyond the brink to stop. The need to feel a man’s warm embrace combined with the incredible aroma he exuded stripped away her self-control. If he wanted hot, wanton sex in the front seat of the patrol car, she would gladly give it to him if she stayed any longer in his presence. As a defense, she popped open the passenger door, letting in the cold evening air.

  “I better go now,” she said in a weak voice.

  “I understand.” He patted the top of her hand. “Get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

  “I hope.”

  “Trust me.” He smiled again as she exited the patrol car, shutting the door behind her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  A primal rage twisted inside the beast like the coils of a deadly snake. Its obsession to see the girl child had proved disastrous again. The rifle bullet buried deep in its chest burned like a red-hot poker as it crouched on the bank of Skeleton Creek near the Olson farm.

  In the full moonlight, it drew upon its lycanthropic ability to heal. Muscle and tissue knitted together, forcing the bullet slowly from its flesh. Excruciating pain made breathing unbearable. It wanted to howl in agony but kept quiet in case human hunters were tracking it through the night. With its black claws, it reached into the chest wound, dug around, and removed the blob of lead with a thick sucking sound. Once the bullet was free, the healing increased and the flesh formed together.

  The rage, however, grew stronger. Gone was the mind of Collin. The layers of bestial instinct overpowered the human side deep within. There was only the animal now … and it was hungry.

  Fully healed, the beast surveyed its surroundings and listened to the night sounds. Someone was moving a short distance away, walking stealthily through the trees and dead brush, littering the forest floor. The beast recognized the footsteps of another predator. It crawled out from under its cover to peer ahead into the darkness. A few yards away, the figure of a man dressed in a long black coat made his way through the woods toward the farm. Instead of a rifle, the human predator carried a large club in one hand.

  A low throated growl of satisfaction rumbled within the creature.

  It had found its new prey.

  * * * *

  Blake Lobato followed a rutted cow path running along the fenced fields of the farm where Jess stayed. Not wanting the loud motorcycle to draw attention in the area, he walked his Harley along the fence line until he reached a spot near a grove of trees. He hid the bike in the shadows and pulled the aluminum bat from the handlebars. If the situation proved right, he could finish the job of killing his wife tonight. His payback for Jess’s betrayal would then be complete. He stretched two strands of barbed wire and propped the space open with a dead tree limb. Through the gap, he eased onto the other side of the fence.

  Baseball bat in hand, he took a path leading him closer to the farm. The air about him was quiet except for the breeze whispering through the canopy of leaves overhead. He soon discovered a winding creek bed and continued along its bank to cover his approach. After trekking a couple hundred yards, he found a good spot to recon the farm. He crossed to the edge of a plowed field, crouched, and put aside the bat. Removing the pair of hunting binoculars from his coat, he focused them on the farm.

  The trailer home looked dark. If Jess and Megan were home, there would be a light on. He knew his wife was too paranoid to sleep in a dark trailer without any light. The farmhouse was where he focused next. He scanned the home just in time to see a car’s headlights turn in the front yard. Through the lens, he spotted the sheriff’s patrol car parking in front of the house. He watched the man walk from the car and disappear inside. A cold anger settled in his gut. The bastard was here to see his wife.

  A couple of minutes passed before Jess and the sheriff stepped off the front porch and climbed into the patrol car together. He focused the binoculars upon the windshield of the cruiser. Through the blurry glass the two conversed. The next thing he spied turned his anger to homicidal rage. The sheriff leaned over and kissed Jess. The filthy whore was making out with the bastard in the front seat! He lowered the binoculars and picked up the baseball bat so tightly his knuckles turned white. He had to kill them both. To catch them together and swing the bat until their heads cracked open …

  A growl came from behind him.

  Blake’s hair stood up on the back of his neck. He turned toward the sound. A dark shape pounced from the shadows and knocked him flat on his back. An image flashed like a snapshot from a nightmare. Large canine fangs, red eyes, and a growling wolf face hovered for a heartbeat above his prone form. By reflexes and instincts honed as an undercover officer, he snatched up the baseball bat and blocked the creature from ravaging his throat and neck. The canine maw bit hard upon the bat and nearly tore it from his hands. He kicked the beast from him and leaped to his feet.

  The monstrous thing attacked again. Black fur bristled on its back as it charged forward to bite with its horrendous maw. Running on pure adrenaline and instinct to survive, Blake swung the bat against the side of the beast’s head. Aluminum smacked hard against fur, flesh, and bone. The creature howled in pain and fell out of sight down the bank of the creek. He knew he had only a second to escape. Panic replaced his will to fight. He flung aside the bat and ran toward where he parked the Harley.

  His riding boots thudded the soft turf of the woods. Behind him, the creature snarled and climbed out of the creek bank to give chase. A memory flashed of when he was just a boy of eight watching a Wolf Man movie in a dark theater. When the monster showed on the screen, he covered his eyes and prayed it to go away. As he got older, he learned his abusive father was far worse than any cinema monster created of cheap rubber and makeup effects … until now. The horror chasing him stripped away all his years as a hard-ass cop on the street. He was eight years old again, and this time he could not cover his eyes to make the monster go away.

  Behind him, dead limbs and brush snapped under the charge of the beast. The creature was closing in. Its sharp fangs bit against the night air inches from the swirling tails of his long leather coat. Any second, the nightmare would pull him down.

  Ahead in the moonlight, the Harley waited on the other side of the barbed wire fence. Blake ran with all his strength toward the bike and dove through the propped-open space left between the strands of fence wire. His long coat snagged, and he yanked the leather free. Unable to slow its pursuit in time, the monster ran with full force into the metal wire and got hung up in the barbs. Blake had a precious few seconds to live. He reached the motorcycle and hit the ignition button as the beast tore apart the fenc
e as if made of balsa wood and string. The bike’s engine turned over, but before he could escape, the snarling horror rose and loomed over him.

  Blake screamed in terror and popped the clutch as the creature sank its teeth deep into his shoulder. The bike shot forward, tearing the beast’s bite free from his flesh. He opened the throttle, sending the Harley bouncing along the rutted cow path. He nearly spilled the bike but managed to keep it up on both wheels. In the rearview mirror, the monster loped full speed behind the taillights. He increased the throttle and left the creature behind as the bike roared out of the cow path and onto the asphalt farm road.

  He had escaped the horror.

  Coming down from the adrenaline high, Blake fought off succumbing to shock. He drove toward Hope Springs attempting to come to grips with the nightmarish encounter. What had bit him? Some deformed farm dog or wolf? The cold air helped clear his mind. He looked up at the full moon shining brightly overhead as he passed through the center of Hope Springs. A cold chill shook his body.

  A werewolf?

  Blake glanced over to the bite wound on his right shoulder. Ragged flesh shone through the rips in the leather jacket, and blood ran down the inside of the coat sleeve. He weighed his options. He couldn’t go to the police and tell them what happened. He was wanted for arson and murder by now. Nor could he go to a hospital emergency room for the same reason. The only option was to treat his wounds back in the motel room. Opening up the bike engine, he raced toward Morris.

  Upon arrival at the Siesta Trail Motel, Blake staggered through his room door while squeezing tightly the jacket sleeve to keep from leaving a blood trail. He fought back the urge to fall upon the bed and pass out, knowing he would bleed to death without dressing the wound. Like a drunken sailor, he stumbled into the tiny bathroom and switched on the dusty light. Blood dripped upon the dirty tile floor and grimy toilet seat as he eased his arm from the sleeve. Fortunately, the loud Mexican music coming through the thin walls of the adjoining room covered his cries of pain.