The Killing Moon

by A. S. French

  Grace buried her face in her hands, producing a long moan before coming up for air. ‘Tanner must have sent her to spy on us. Can you see Wylie anywhere?’

  ‘Stay calm, and I’ll get you a drink.’

  Astrid stood and walked towards the bar, picking a spot near Julie Cope. The night’s second musical act was on stage, a middle-aged woman with blue hair and an electronic synthesiser stolen from Kraftwerk.

  Detective Cope raised her glass to her, and Astrid got a whiff of bourbon. ‘I see Officer Crowley is showing you all the best watering holes.’

  It was clear she’d already had more than one drink. Astrid nodded towards the bartender.

  ‘Whatever she’s drinking for both of us.’ She plopped her empty bottle onto the bar. ‘Do you come here often?’

  Julie Cope ran her finger around the top of the glass. ‘Why, Ms Snow, do I detect a flirtation in the offing?’

  She finished her drink as the next ones arrived. Astrid took her bourbon and downed half of it, the ice chilling her insides.

  ‘Unless you’re going to tell me you’re working undercover to arrest all these underage kids.’

  Cope grabbed the bottle in front of her and snaffled a swig before returning to the bourbon. The static sound of the keyboard cut through the air.

  ‘I don’t care who comes here as long as they keep stocking my favourite booze. As terrible as this dump looks and smells, it is without a shadow of a doubt the best watering hole outside of New York.’

  Astrid glanced over to see Grace glaring at her while talking to Polly. ‘Do your superiors know you frequent this place?’

  Cope shrugged. ‘Apart from a few fundamentalists, nobody cares what anyone else gets up to in Angel Springs. We might be a town of wide roads, but not of narrow minds.’ She nodded into the space behind Astrid. ‘Though, from the look on her long face, I’d say your giraffe is none too happy about you chatting to me.’

  A waft of cannabis drifted through the air as Astrid drank. The bourbon’s caramel taste increased the volume of her thoughts and drowned out the music.

  ‘I wonder why she’s not too fond of you and your partner, Detective.’

  Julie Cope raised her eyebrows. ‘Perhaps she realises that in a couple of days, Tanner will have her stuck on traffic duty and the Saturday night drunk squad down at the hospital. That’s the best she can hope for now. And she won’t have your shoulder to lean on when you’re gone.’

  Astrid finished the bourbon and pushed the beer bottle to her mouth, letting the chill of the glass caress her lips.

  ‘I won’t be going anywhere until I find Alex and catch a serial killer.’

  Cope blinked like butterfly wings in the wind. ‘What are you talking about? We’d know if there was a serial killer in Angel Springs.’ Her narrow eyes burnt into Astrid. ‘Where are the bodies?’

  Astrid moved closer to Cope, brushing her leg against the Detective. ‘Whoever’s taking these missing kids is hiding the bodies. Katie Spencer’s escape and unfortunate death was an accident in more ways than one.’

  That’s why you and Wylie were at the river. There’s a serial killer in Angel Springs, and the police are keeping it quiet.

  Cope ordered more drinks for them. ‘How have you come up with this fantastical theory?’

  Astrid pushed her skin-tight jeans into Cope’s legs. ‘I’ve seen something like this before, during a case I worked in the French countryside. A farmer kidnapped children from across the country, and then took them to a set of underground rooms he’d constructed beneath the farm. Once he’d finished with them, he fed the bodies to the pigs and cooked the rest.’

  Even as she sipped on the whiskey, she smelt the aroma of burnt human flesh lingering in the back of her brain. Fascination consumed Julie Cope’s face. Her eyes sparked into life as she casually placed a hand on Astrid’s knee.

  ‘How did you catch him?’

  ‘It was pure luck.’ Astrid let the hand linger there. ‘One of the girls escaped from her prison and crawled out of the ground as I drove past. I thought I was seeing things, her head appearing from nowhere like a rabbit pulled from a hat. I put her into my car and tracked his route through the tunnels. Manny Burns told us he’d seen Katie come up from the dirt, and then sprint down the river as if the Devil chased her. That’s what reminded me of France.’

  ‘And you think she fell, hit her head, and then tumbled into the water?’

  ‘It seems the likeliest scenario. Grace and I will check along the bank tomorrow.’

  Cope squeezed Astrid’s leg and whistled. ‘That’s some ground you’ll have to cover, maybe five miles or so. I could ask Tanner to spare some uniformed officers to help you.’

  Without realising it, Astrid took hold of Cope’s hand. ‘You believe what I’ve just told you?’

  ‘I’d need to see more evidence there’s a serial killer in Angel Springs, but what you said about Spencer being held against her will makes sense. The girl was missing for nearly two months, yet she was clean and recently fed when we found her. She hadn’t been living wild. And there were those marks on her body.’

  The ache returned to Astrid as she remembered Katie’s wounds. ‘Dr Jones thought they were self-inflicted.’

  ‘Perhaps some of them were, but others could have been inflicted on her and masked inside those scars. There was no sign of sexual interference, but she might have been tortured and forced to do other things.’ Anguish crossed Cope’s face, and Astrid knew how she felt.

  There was a tap on Astrid’s shoulder, and she turned to see Grace frowning at her. ‘Are we done here?’ She didn’t look at Cope.

  Julie leant into Astrid and whispered in her ear. ‘We could finish this conversation at my place. And I’ve got an unopened bottle of bourbon.’

  Astrid slipped off the stool and took Grace to one side. ‘What happened to Polly?’

  ‘She’s down the front, dancing with the other kids.’

  ‘Are you not enjoying the atmosphere?’

  Grace scowled. ‘It’s been a long day, and we got what we wanted. Plus, this music is annoying me, and I don’t drink, so I’ve never liked being in a bar and...’

  The shadows engulfed them as Astrid pulled Grace further from Detective Cope. She held on to her arms and felt the tension in her partner’s muscles.

  ‘You’re right. It’s been a difficult day, especially with what happened to Manny. We need some rest because it will be another long one tomorrow, but being here, having a few drinks and flirting with the wrong people, is the best way for me to relax. So you head home, and I’ll meet you later. Is that okay?’

  She let go of Grace.

  ‘Sure, Astrid, no problem.’ Weariness seeped out of her. ‘Is there anything you want me to do tonight?’

  ‘We’re going to case the Senator’s mansion tomorrow, remember. Before that, we need to check along the river for any abandoned or hidden tunnels. If you can dig out any plans of the old mines, it would be a big help.’

  ‘I’m on it, partner.’

  Grace flicked her a mock salute as she left. Astrid returned to her new friend as another round of beer and bourbon waited for her. She squeezed next to the Detective once more.

  ‘Did you manage to identify those who attacked us at the cabin?’

  Cope lifted a hand to her chin and massaged her face as if contemplating one of the great mysteries of the universe. ‘We checked their DNA, blood, teeth and ran facial recognition scans, but came up empty. Someone doesn’t want you to know who is coming for you.’

  ‘What makes you think the attack was about me and not for Manny?’

  Cope’s mouth popped open like a spring flower grasping for the sun. ‘You’re a British Spook, right?’ Astrid didn’t reply. She never volunteered information unless it was unavoidable. ‘So what do you believe is more likely, an untraceable hit squad goes into those woods to get you or an ancient Vietnam vet who struggles to remember his name most days?’ Cope let her hand drift onto her leg again, and As
trid didn’t complain. ‘Who have you upset recently?’

  ‘Fuck,’ Astrid said.

  ‘Now?’ Cope replied with a mischievous grin.

  ‘In this country, I can only think of one person who’d want to kill me: Daniel Gideon.’

  A miniature version of Astrid ran around inside her skull and punched at the sides of her head. She didn’t know which one of them had been the more stupid, her or Gideon.

  ‘Daniel Gideon, the multi-millionaire media tycoon; why’s he after you?’

  ‘I kicked him in the balls when he tried to seduce me.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Cope grimaced. ‘Good job I don’t have any balls.’

  The last band of the night appeared on stage as the two women continued to gaze at each other. Astrid grabbed Cope’s hand and dragged her from the bar.

  ‘Let’s go and find this unopened bottle of bourbon of yours.’

  They stumbled through the crowd like teenagers on a first date, pushed past the bouncers on the door and sprawled into the night.

  ‘My car’s over there.’ Cope pointed towards a beat-up Honda Accord. Astrid pulled her through the dirt and into the side of the building, their bodies crashing and sticking like glue.

  ‘You need to get some of that booze out of your system before you can drive, Officer.’

  She pushed her face into Cope’s neck, her tongue tasting perfume and alcohol. Her fingers were inside Cope’s, the two of them thrusting against each other as the wood creaked behind them. They fell down the steps, laughing and tripping into the bushes opposite the bar. A branch stabbed Astrid in her side, but she didn’t care, her mouth finding Cope’s as she bit down on to her bottom lip. The blood tasted of burnt metal in her mouth. Their tongues twisted together like snakes wriggling on the floor. Two pairs of hands grabbed at hair, pulling and pushing, legs pinned against each other as one.

  After an undetermined age, they separated and came up for air.

  Julie Cope had a massive grin on her face.

  ‘I think I’ve sobered up now.’

  ‘I feel dizzy.’ Astrid staggered back towards the other woman. ‘I’ve forgotten how long it is since I’ve done this.’ She wrapped her trembling hands around Cope’s waist.

  ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ Cope ran her hand through Astrid’s hair. A stray dog chased a feral cat near them, the animals barking and squealing into the night. ‘Do you want to continue here or back at mine?’

  Astrid had her fingers inside Cope’s shirt, touching warm skin and feeling her flesh tingle in anticipation.

  ‘How far is your place?’

  Cope’s chest moved slowly in and out, her breathing coming in gasps as Astrid’s hands drifted north and south.

  ‘About twenty minutes in the car if I put my foot down.’

  ‘I don’t think I can wait that long; how about you?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Cope pulled her to the ground, the two of them plummeting into hard dirt. They tore at buttons and zips, rolling across the mud and into the bushes. A dog ran around and sniffed at their feet until Astrid kicked it away. They fumbled at each other, for once Astrid cursing she’d bought such tight trousers. But they came off eventually.

  It was cold and dark in the night, but even inside the undergrowth, Cope smelt of lemon and tasted of life. Astrid forgot about everything else in the heat: no thought for Alex Sanchez or Katie Spencer; no concern for Daniel Gideon and his hired goons; no lingering yearning to get back home and see her niece.

  Sometime later, she was exhausted and dressed. Detective Cope had a bigger grin than a stand-up comedian on steroids as she offered Astrid a lit cigarette. She took it and sucked the smoke deep into her lungs. She held it there, trapped, thinking how much of her life it would eventually erode. She let it out in a long blow, watching it drift into the air and rush towards the inky gloom.

  Cope stared at her through curious eyes, satisfaction dripping from her face. ‘Do you still want to go to my place?’

  Astrid detected a hint of desperation in her voice, and it excited her even more. She took one more rasp on the cigarette before flicking it into the bushes, grabbed Cope’s hand and dragged her towards the car.

  ‘You just try and stop me, copper.’

  Their continued fumbling and groping meant they didn’t reach Cope’s apartment for another forty minutes. Once inside, they ripped their clothes off again and rushed into the bedroom. It was two hours before Astrid slunk out and searched for the unopened bottle of bourbon. The place was a tip: dusty magazines and books stacked everywhere, a sofa which was coming apart at the seams and a bunch of ugly-looking ornaments straight out of a horror museum, figurines with twisted faces and broken limbs.

  She stepped over the debris and went to the kitchen, the smell of unwashed pots and plates hitting her as she entered. The bourbon stared at her from the top of the fridge. She couldn’t find any clean glasses, so she settled for the freshest cups she found, tipping a spider out of one of them. She returned to the bedroom and handed that particular cup to Cope, opening the bottle and letting the aroma drift up to her nose as she poured two measures.

  ‘Why is your place such a mess, copper?’

  She slid back on to the bed next to Cope. The Detective downed the drink and poured another one.

  ‘Do you know how much free time you get working for the police in this town? I’m lucky if I can squeeze in any sleep most nights.’

  Astrid dropped her cup on to the floor and sipped from the bottle. ‘You can’t afford a cleaner?’

  ‘I had a cleaner. I think you might find her under some of those books in the living room.’

  They drank together and laughed. Underneath the cobwebs on the digital clock, Astrid noticed it was four in the morning, and she still hadn’t had any sleep. Her mobile vibrated somewhere on the floor. She reached down from the bed, sorting through the discarded clothes until she found the device. It was a message from Grace, asking if she was okay.

  Cope wiped a smile and alcohol from her face. ‘Is your mother looking for you?’

  ‘My mother hated me. She died a long time ago.’ Astrid tossed the phone on to the bedside table, displacing the mound of dust there. She slipped off the bed and grabbed her trousers.

  Cope reached for her arm. ‘I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it, or perhaps do something else?’

  Astrid stood with every sinew and muscle in her body throbbing like a space shuttle about to take off.

  ‘Maybe next time. I need to return to Grace’s and get some sleep before we trawl down the riverside. Can you phone me a taxi?’

  She picked up the rest of her clothes and headed into the other room, peering at the books and magazines scattered everywhere as she got dressed: volumes on criminology, psychology, behavioural science, serial killers, true crime, and many other police-related works covered the carpet.

  Once she’d squeezed into her trousers, Astrid stepped past the mess on the floor. She peered out of the window as Julie Cope came behind and threw her arms around her waist. As the Detective hugged her, Astrid wondered if they’d find Alex Sanchez in one of those abandoned mines later that morning.

  18 Down by the River

  When Astrid returned to Grace’s house, she slumped on to the sofa, hoping her partner was asleep in the bedroom. She drifted off to the smell of Julie still attached to her, and pulled the blanket over her aching form. Images of Katie Spencer rising from the ground raced through her head, a vision of the teenage girl fleeing from something which terrified her, so scared she stumbled into the river. The sensation of water engulfing her sent Astrid into a deep sleep, the type of slumber she rarely got.

  When she woke, the kettle was screeching in the kitchen. Grace sat opposite her, flicking through the channels on a muted TV. Piles of A4 paper lay scattered across the carpet.

  ‘While you were out gallivanting, I spent hours researching the town’s mines. You’ve cost me a fortune in ink.’

  Astrid couldn’
t tell if the disappointment in Grace’s voice was because of the hard work she’d put in or the fact she’d come home alone last night. Astrid swung her legs over the sofa and picked up the closest bits of paper, covered with diagrams and maps dating from the late nineteenth century. She stretched out her arms and tried to shake the glue from her brain.

  ‘I’m impressed with your diligence, Officer Crowley.’ The back of her head thumped like an over-heated disco ball.

  ‘I don’t think they’re going to be much help.’ Grace squeezed next to her on the sofa. ‘Most of the mines closed down after World War Two, and I can’t find any near the river.’

  Astrid let Grace’s body heat warm her up, her memories of that early morning fun with Detective Cope evaporating as she dropped the papers on to the floor. She scanned through some others, but found only one valuable piece of information.

  ‘It says the construction of the first mine started in 1880, but the town had already been here since the 1820s. Do you know what the economy was before that?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I was never taught that in school.’ She sipped at her coffee before grabbing her laptop and starting a search.

  Astrid had already beaten her to it on her phone. ‘The initial settlers traded pelts and food, using temporary lodgings they built on the riverside. Then they constructed more permanent dwellings, and the residents used the river to trade along its waters.’

  ‘This is fascinating, but I don’t see how it helps us.’

  Astrid scanned through the data, and then handed it to her partner. ‘Look at this.’

  Grace wiped the drink from her lips and read aloud. ‘The small community grew into a town, with population numbers swelling overnight. This brought prosperity to many of the early settlers, but also attracted greed and criminality. Homes were raided and people murdered before the hardiest of the traders banded together to protect themselves.’

  She stopped reading as Astrid wiped the sleep from her eyes. She was in desperate need of a shower, and the throbbing plagued the back of her skull as she nodded at her partner.