Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  Bright flashes from a camera strobe burst every now and then as a crime scene tech documented the sadistic tableau. I flinched upon the first then barely noticed when the second and third erupted to cast harsh shadows across the walls. Albright had already been taken out of the house by the time we entered, so it was just the corpses, him, and us down here. However, in some odd sense I felt all alone.

  I stood motionless for a full minute, staring at the woman hanging from the rafter above. The crown of her head was only inches from the floor, her blue-black, stringy hair hanging down and splayed out behind her across the filthy cement like the strands of an old cotton mop tossed carelessly aside.

  Still mute, I continued slowly around the suspended corpse. As I reached her left side, a plastic tube came into view. It was taped against her neck where it terminated in what appeared to be a large gauge needle piercing a vein. The opposite end was still dangling inside the mouth of a glass gallon jug, which was almost half full of red fluid. It didn’t take deep thought to figure out exactly what it was.

  Glistening shards of a similar vessel were shattered in an outwardly showering pattern nearby. The same red fluid was pooled around it, as well as splattered several feet in an oblique circle. A healthy measure of it was already drying to deep rust on the dead woman’s face. Tented evidence markers littered the area.

  “You okay, Row?” Ben asked in a low voice.

  I didn’t reply with words. I simply looked back over my shoulder and gave him a shallow nod.

  “We in your way?” he asked, looking past me and addressing himself to the crime scene photographer.

  I hadn’t been paying attention, but I now noticed that the flashing from his strobe had stopped. I looked over at him and saw that he was standing off to one side of the room, observing me. He wore a flat expression, neither curiosity nor surprise evident in his features.

  “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just waiting.”

  “Sorry. I can move,” I offered.

  “You’re fine,” he told me. “I’m done with her.”

  I glanced around the basement but remained quiet. I wasn’t quite sure what he was waiting for, but I didn’t figure it was my place to ask.

  I returned my gaze to the latest victim, wondering who she was when she was alive. I found myself in an odd quandary. My headache had subsided before we even arrived at the top of the street. I was certainly grateful for the relief, but at the same time I cursed the fact that I now seemed completely numbed to the ethereal. If this woman’s spirit was trying to talk to me, I couldn’t hear her. I was completely unaware.

  I closed my eyes and took in an even breath. There seemed as though there should be some humor in the fact that I was mentally cursing the sudden lack of something I considered to be a curse in and of itself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it.

  I opened my eyes and turned away from the woman. Several feet across the room, against the back wall of the basement, the second body was resting. He was nondescript, though somewhat effeminate in appearance. His skin was almost as pale as that of his drained victim.

  He was in a slouched sitting position, partially propped up and appearing almost as if he had simply sat down on the floor right where he had been standing and fallen back. The obvious evidence to the contrary was the dark, wet stain on his chest and the two large blood spray patterns on the wall just above his head. Their relative positions told me they would be right at chest level if the man had been standing.

  I took notice of the fact that his arms lay relaxed at his sides, hands empty. Sergeant Madden’s answer to Ben’s query about a weapon rolled through my mind, and I now considered it in a different light. I didn’t see anything nearby that would qualify. Nor were there any of the evidence markers that were prevalent in other parts of the room.

  I kept my gaze leveled on the dead man for a moment, looking into eyes that were staring out of darkly rimmed sockets. A trickle of blood was running from the corner of his mouth, and I had to wonder if it was his or the woman’s. Although his face was slack, there seemed to be a surprised look in his sunken eyes. But the perceived expression was all I had to work with. Even where he was concerned I could feel nothing.

  No malevolence.

  No insanity.

  Nothing.

  As we stood there I heard the sound of footsteps above us, creaking and thudding purposefully across the floor. A few seconds later they grew louder as they started down the stairs. Soon afterward, a uniformed officer stepped off at the bottom and gave Ben a nod.

  “You Detective Storm?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Ben answered.

  The officer regarded him for a moment. “We just finished talking to Captain Albright,” he said then raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Felicity and me. “Lieutenant Penczak said you’d probably want to clear your consultants out now.”

  Ben gave him a shallow nod in return as something secretive passed between them in the silent gesture. Turning to me he asked, “You done, white man?”

  In a slow turn, I surveyed the horror one last time. There was nothing left to see, and for some reason, nothing left to feel. I came back around to face him and gave my own curt nod. “Yeah… I’ve seen enough.”

  “Thanks,” Ben told the uniformed cop as we walked toward the stairs.

  “All good,” he replied.

  We started up the rickety wooden staircase, and a quick flash caught the corner of my eye. I assumed that the tech was snapping pictures once again and that it was simply his strobe that grabbed my attention, but out of pure reflex I still paused and turned my head in that direction.

  “Keep movin’, Row,” Ben urged, giving me a light push in the middle of my back.

  I continued up the steps, but before the upper wall obscured my vision, I caught a second glint of light through the railings. The cop was now squatting next to the body of the dead man, and I was almost certain I saw what appeared to be a large butcher knife clutched in a cold, once empty hand.

  As we topped the stairs, I distinctly heard the uniformed officer say, “Okay. You can take pictures over here now.”

  CHAPTER 33:

  I stood in the front yard of the house, looking up into the sky with a blank stare. Cops and crime scene technicians were still moving in and out of the front door behind me, but I paid them no heed. I was well out of their way, and my attentions were focused elsewhere at the moment.

  Felicity was snuggled against me, one arm slipped beneath the folds of my coat to wrap around my back and the other bent upward to hold my hand where I had my own arm draped around her shoulders. I could feel her warm breath against my neck whenever she would exhale. A sharp chill would fall in behind it whenever she would turn her own face upward to stare with me.

  “And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood…” I whispered.

  “Revelations?” Felicity whispered the question.

  “Chapter six, verse twelve,” I replied. “And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake… And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood…”

  “I suppose it’s ironic, isn’t it then?”

  “That’s one word for it,” I replied. “Not the one I had in mind though.”

  “They’re just stories, Rowan,” she said. “You of all people know that. You can even quote them better than most Christians. The Bible is a book of allegorical prose. It’s filled with misunderstood and misinterpreted metaphors and similes from a different age.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “But everything has an element of truth to it somewhere… And sometimes…with everything I’ve seen…I just… Well, I just have to wonder if some prophecies are universal… If perhaps we’re driving ourselves headlong into the darkened abyss of our own insanity. Why else would so many people do the horrible things they do?”

  “Don’t overanalyze,” she offered. “Just try to forget about it. This is over. You’ve earned a res
t.”

  I gave my head a slow shake. “Something tells me it isn’t.”

  “Why?”

  I let out a heavy sigh and pulled her closer as I struggled to find the words to express what I was feeling. “This wasn’t right… I mean, the way it all happened. This killer escalated far too quickly. From a victim who disappeared several months ago, to a sudden spree.”

  “I’m sure the serial killer experts have an explanation for that.”

  “You’re right, they probably do. But something still feels very wrong about it to me… And, that isn’t the only thing. Ben made a valid point back at the rest area. I just handed him an address for the killer, and here we are. We all know that isn’t how it happens. Everything usually comes to me in cryptic messages I have to decipher. That’s how communication across the veil works. It’s like a language barrier.”

  “Maybe you’re just learning the language then,” she replied.

  “Maybe…” I said. “But that’s not how it feels. It’s almost as if someone was translating for me.”

  “Who?”

  I sighed again. “That’s the problem. I have no idea. I feel like I should, but I just don’t…”

  “You two okay?” Ben’s voice came at us from behind. “You been standin’ here for damn near fifteen minutes.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “We’re okay.”

  “Good,” he harrumphed. “Listen, I thought ya’ might like ta’ know… I just got word that Judith Albright’s been found…”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” I said in a soft voice, commenting more than questioning.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Afraid so…”

  “And her body wasn’t found here either,” I continued my emotionless observation.

  “No. Just a few miles further west of where they found ‘er car, actually. Looks like she was raped and then strangled. Might’ve been a carjackin’ or somethin’ of that sort that went south. That’s not confirmed yet, but it definitely looks like a separate crime. They’re already workin’ it on that basis. Gotta get an ID from next of kin too, but that’s just a formality. They’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s her.”

  I let out a short, bemused snort. “It’s a black swan.”

  “No,” he replied. “Like I just told ya’, it’s unrelated. Nothin’ ta’ do with this whole deal as far as they can tell.”

  “I know,” I explained. “I don’t mean what you’re thinking. Black swan is a label given to a theory of improbability regarding unexpected, hard to predict, high impact events that are beyond the normal expectations or assumptions.

  “We assumed Judith had fallen prey to this particular killer because she fit the victim profile and because of the time frame in which she went missing. It made sense. However, we couldn’t predict that she would in reality be the victim of a wholly different, but no less heinous crime… Her death is more or less a black swan.”

  “Yeah, well, call it whatever ya’ want, it’s still a friggin’ homicide.”

  “Has anyone told Barbara?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “A coupl’a minutes ago. She ain’t takin’ it too well, but then, who would…”

  “Nobody with a heart.”

  “Yeah… So about that whole swan thing… Ya’ think maybe the Twilight Zone was tryin’ ta’ tell ya’ about somethin’ else besides our Count Dracula wannabe in there? Maybe warn ya’ about Albright?”

  “I wish I knew…” I mumbled. “All I can say is that this particular juxtaposition of reality and the ethereal definitely gives me something else to make my head hurt…”

  “Yeah… Well… Sorry about that.”

  “I’ll get over it… I hope.”

  “Well, maybe this’ll help a bit,” he offered. “The crime scene guys cleared up one of Doc Sanders’ mysteries. Found a pair of slip joint pliers with fake vampire teeth epoxied to ‘em. Pretty much explains the postmortem bite marks with no DNA.”

  “Yeah, I guess it does…” I muttered.

  “Found a boom-box with a CD of weird-ass chanting in it too,” he added. “That’d prob’ly cover what ya’ thought ya’ heard back at the morgue.”

  I sighed but didn’t verbally respond.

  “You sure you’re okay, white man?” he asked again.

  Eventually I breathed, “It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” he replied then paused for a second. “So, what’re you two starin’ at?”

  “The moon, Ben,” my wife told him.

  “Yeah, what about it? It about ta’ crash into us or somethin’?”

  “Take a good look at it,” she answered.

  He was quiet for a moment then said, “Okay, it’s a full moon. That’s like a big deal for you or somethin’, right?”

  “You don’t notice anything else?”

  He shrugged with the tone of his voice. “It looks kinda red and the one edge is kinda dark, so? Fuckin’ air pollution and clouds.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s actually a partial lunar eclipse.”

  “No shit?” he mumbled.

  “No shit,” Felicity replied.

  “That kinda rare or somethin’?”

  “What rock have you been living under?” she asked. “It happens anywhere from two to five times each year.”

  “Hey, the moon crap is your thing, not mine. But if it’s that common, what’s the big effin’ deal?”

  Still staring upward I asked, “Would you like to know what else it’s called, Ben?”

  “Lemme guess, the moon?” he replied with audible sarcasm.

  “A blood moon,” I said.

  He was quiet for several heartbeats before he muttered, “Fuck me…”

  “Yeah. That’s closer to the words I had picked out,” I replied.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said. “So it’s weird and all, but coincidences happen. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “Maybe…”

  “You don’t think it is?”

  “I really can’t say,” I told him. “But the alternative isn’t a pretty thought.”

  “You’re soundin’ all doom and gloom there, white man.”

  “Yeah… I know.”

  “You absolutely certain he’s okay, Firehair?” he asked after a substantial pause.

  “He’s just tired, Ben,” she answered. “Like he said, it’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Speakin’ of which, are you two ready to get outta here? I can get ya’ a ride.”

  “You’re staying?” Felicity asked.

  “Kinda hafta,” he told her. “But you two are free and clear. And if ya’ wanna just head straight home, I can make a call, and I’m sure your Jeep will be fine till tomorrow mornin’.”

  “Aye, I think maybe that would be a good idea.”

  “Well c’mon,” he said. “I’ll get ya’ hooked up.”

  I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the blushing disk in the sky, but after Felicity tugged at my arm for a second time, I dropped my gaze and followed her. As we crossed the yard, skirting past the county medical examiner on his way in to retrieve the bodies, our path intersected with Sergeant Madden’s.

  “Were you watching the eclipse?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Felicity answered for the both of us, glancing up at it then back to the officer.

  Madden glanced upward quickly as well and then back to us. “My kid is doing a paper on it for school,” she offered before clucking her tongue and regarding us with a quizzical look dressing her features. “You know, maybe it’s none of my business, you being with Major Case and all, but mind if I ask exactly what kind of consultants you two are?”

  “Independent,” I said, giving her the first mundane word that came to mind. “I’m afraid what we do is a little hard to explain.”

  She cocked her head to the side and gave me a hard look. Then, like the state trooper had done back at the rest area, she stared at the ground for a second as she tw
ice repeated my name, as much to herself as us. Looking back up at my face with recognition flashing in her eyes, she slowly shook a finger at me.

  “Wait… Rowan Gant. I knew I’d heard that name before. You’re the…”

  Psychic… Witch… Neither of the labels really mattered to me right now. So I cut her off before either word could pass her lips, and with a lifetime’s worth of weariness creeping into my voice I said, “Yeah. Whether I like it or not, apparently I am.”

  Friday, April 21

  7:49 P.M.

  Flipdoodles Restaurant

  Delmar Loop

  University City, Missouri

  CHAPTER 34:

  “What the hell kinda name is Flipdoodles?” Ben asked.

  “Ben!” Constance quietly admonished, reaching to the side and slapping him on the shoulder.

  “What?” my friend replied, raising his eyebrows and splaying out his hands in surrender. “I’m just askin’ a question.”

  This was the first time we had been out with the petite FBI agent since the shooting in December that had left her in critical condition for a time. She was healed for the most part and back to work now. The Bureau had her on desk duty for the time being, but considering how amazingly well she seemed to be doing I seriously doubted the assignment would be permanent.

  “You’re really looking good, Constance,” I said, picking up my drink and raising it toward her. “Here’s to your continued health.”

  “Slainté,” Felicity said, picking up her drink as well.

  “Thank you,” Mandalay said with a smile after joining us in the toast, then brushed a shock of brunette hair back from her eyes as she settled her tumbler back to the table. “I’m feeling good. I still tire a bit quicker than I used to, but I’m getting stronger. I really think getting back to work has helped.”

  “I was actually surprised you went back so soon,” I commented.