Blood Moon

by A. D. Ryan

  Timothy Dent was victim number two, murdered the day after Samantha Turner. His body had been reported well after I’d been admitted to the hospital. He was a twenty-one-year-old student at Scottsdale Community College with blond hair and brown eyes. He had good grades, stayed out of trouble, volunteered.

  Why him?

  Then, there was Sarah O’Dell, a twenty-five year-old dental assistant. Her blonde hair and blue eyes didn’t lend anything to a possible pattern, so there was no way for her to avoid being chosen by this freak.

  Lastly, Jason Smith fell victim to this monster. A brown-haired, blue-eyed tourist visiting from Houston, he had no connection to any of the previous victims, so his death couldn’t have been prevented. His girlfriend reported him missing when he didn’t come back to their hotel the day I woke up. Apparently she wasn’t feeling well. Turned out she was about ten weeks pregnant—awesome—and he’d gone out to find her something to help with the nausea. But he never returned.

  The only similarity they shared was the peculiar neck wound, but no one could tell what type of weapon was used or if it was the work of the same person.

  But I knew. I could feel it. I’d never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I couldn’t explain how I knew; it was just a feeling I got deep in my gut.

  Another question I asked myself was: why now? Why disappear seven years ago and come back now? Was it some kind of ritual killing spree? Return to the scene of a past crime every so often and relive it by killing someone new to get your rocks off? I couldn’t make sense of it…but, of course, I wasn’t a psychopath.

  “O’Malley’s working the case,” David informed me, almost as though he knew exactly what was on my mind.

  “Oh?” I replied, feigning innocence. David laughed, seeing right through me, so I cut the act. “Any leads?”

  David inhaled a deep breath and shook his head. “Nothing. He’s found absolutely nothing.” He was frustrated, and to be completely honest, so was I. Four murders and not one clue? It was unheard of.

  Almost, anyway.

  “How is that possible?” I asked. “Did they check the neck wound? They had to have found something in there. Traces of DNA? Something that could tell us what the murder weapon was? What about the other—”

  I cut myself off, but it was too late; he knew I knew.

  He sighed again, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead of us. “I knew you’d find out. Your dad didn’t want to alarm you.”

  “Fat load of good that did,” I quipped.

  “The answer is no. We haven’t found any useful evidence on any of the bodies. Any time they think they’ve found something, they come up empty.”

  I dropped my eyes to my lap and laughed dryly. “Just like Bobby and the others.”

  My frustration mounted, and, as a result, a mild tremor traveled through my body. I couldn’t understand how this was happening again after all this time, and I was scared that this was only going to unearth everything my family had done to move on with our lives. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to get through most days.

  “Brooke, we can’t be certain that this is the same guy who killed your brother,” David said softly, reaching over and taking my hand in his while he turned onto my street.

  “Are you kidding?” I demanded. “They were drained of blood—they all were, right?—there’s no way to tell what killed them… And what about that mark on their necks, David? They’re the exact same as the one I found on Bobby’s neck. That can’t be a coincidence, can it? Tell me you don’t believe that.”

  David was silent for a minute, and I waited for him to say something. I wanted to tell him to forget about going home and to take me to the precinct instead so I could look over the files. There were two problems with that idea though: one, David was driving and would never do it, and two, even if he did, my father would kibosh the whole thing before I took more than three steps toward my desk. No, I would have to be patient and wait another couple of days to return to work like my doctor said.

  Of course, that’s not to say that I couldn’t have David bring me the files to look over; it wouldn’t be the first time we brought our work home when we were so close to closing a case.

  “We’ll figure it out,” David finally said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We always do.”

  “Not always,” I mumbled, reminding him of the grim reality of our job. Thinking back on all of the cases that had gone unsolved over the years, an uneasy feeling stirred within my belly. Unable to handle this one getting away from me, especially when I was almost certain that the similarities to Bobby’s murder weren’t just a coincidence, I turned to David. “I know you want to believe that this isn’t related to my brother’s investigation, but can you at least try to entertain the idea? I mean, what if it is? What if you overlook it and it turns out I was right, and this guy gets away? Again.”

  Eyebrows furrowing in contemplation, David nodded slowly. “Okay,” he conceded willingly. “We’ll cross check the past and present files and chart the similarities, but you have to promise me that you won’t let this case get to you if it turns out you were right.” He turned to me, his eyes holding mine briefly before flitting back to the road. “Promise me that you’ll stay professional and won’t go off half-cocked if we narrow down a list of suspects. I get that you want to catch the guy responsible for your brother’s death, but if we don’t go by the book on this, Brooke, then we’ll jeopardize the entire investigation.”

  A vision of me taking down a man twice my size raced through my mind several times. Each time was different. In some instances, I shot him; in others, I took him out with my bare hands, beating him until he was bloody and unrecognizable.

  For some reason, I took pleasure in these…fantasies, and the corners of my lips quirked up. It wasn’t until I caught a glimpse of myself in the passenger side mirror that I noticed the wicked gleam in my eyes, and I was instantly horrified about the morbid turn in my thoughts.

  “What is it?” David asked, parking the car in my driveway and turning to me. “You got awfully quiet just now.”

  Sighing, I let my head fall back against the seat. “It’s nothing,” I lied. “I just don’t know what to make of all this.” There was so much going on in my head—everything from the last few days bouncing off of each other—that it was hard to focus on one thing specifically. My head was crowded and somewhat congested, like a headache was starting to make itself known.

  Sensing my current state of discomfort, David opened his door and nodded toward the house. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  Agreeing, I opened my door and stepped out, meeting David around the front of the car. Once inside, David ushered me to the living room and sat me down, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and covering me with it. I wasn’t cold, but the gesture was sweet, so I didn’t say anything. He was just trying to take care of me after everything that happened.

  “You hungry?” he asked, placing a tender kiss on top of my head.

  Food wasn’t really on the top of my priority list, but the second David mentioned it, my mouth watered. “Actually, yeah, now that you mention it.”

  “What are you in the mood for? I wasn’t able to make it to the grocery store before you got released, so we don’t have much.”

  I tried to pinpoint what it was I craved, but I couldn’t; I was way too damn hungry. “Um, I don’t know.”

  David headed to the kitchen, and I heard the fridge open. “Well,” he bellowed, “we have apples, some leftover something-or-other that’s probably no longer safe for human consumption, bread, bacon, eggs…”

  My mouth watered again, and my hands trembled. “Bacon,” I replied quickly, licking my lips. “I want bacon.”

  “Okay. And what else?” he inquired, poking his head around the corner. “I could make you a BLT?”

  It didn’t sound nearly as appealing as a plate full of bacon, but I knew I should have a somewhat balanced meal. “Sure.” From my spot on the couch, I hear
d him set the frying pan on the stove, and I swore I smelled the raw bacon as he opened the package. It was ridiculous, and I figured it must have been my voracious appetite toying with me.

  “Can I have extra bacon on it?” I asked loudly, and David chuckled.

  “Of course.”

  I licked my lips again at the thought of all of that bacon. “Seriously, though…I want extra bacon.”

  His laugh grew louder, but he assured me he’d make the sandwich to my liking.

  With David in the kitchen cooking, I leaned forward and snatched the TV remote off the coffee table and flipped the power on.

  Nothing held my interest for long as the smell of the bacon infused the air, making me kind of impatient. I stopped flipping through the channels, focusing more on the sound of David cooking. It didn’t make any sense to be so hung up on this, but it was all I could think about. The fact that I wasn’t drooling surprised me, to be quite honest.

  The click of the stove being switched off excited me. I sat up quickly, criss-crossing my legs in front of me on the couch in anticipation of my meal. David rounded the corner from the kitchen, and my mouth watered more, my stomach growling.

  I picked up one of the triangular halves of the toasted sandwich, appreciating the sight of so much bacon folded between the lettuce, tomato, and bread, and took my first big bite. The taste of the bacon was the first thing to bathe my tongue, and I moaned in satisfaction as I chewed…then, something rancid infiltrated my mouth, ruining my meal. After I managed to choke the bite down, I lifted the top piece of bread, looking to see if maybe the lettuce or tomato had gone bad.

  “Something wrong, Brooke?” David asked, sitting down next to me.

  Shaking my head, I lifted the tomato and gave it a tentative sniff, recoiling as the sweet smell permeated my nostrils. It didn’t smell bad, but it also didn’t smell appealing to me. Dropping the tomato to the plate, I picked up a piece of bacon and popped it in my mouth while I determined if the lettuce was the problem. Turning it over, it looked fine, but, again, the smell wasn’t enticing—not that lettuce had ever really held that sort of allure before now.

  “Sorry,” I said, pulling the lettuce and tomato off of the other half of my sandwich. “I guess I’m just not in the mood for rabbit food.”

  David chuckled, relaxing back onto the couch and throwing an arm behind me as I continued to pick off one piece of bacon at a time. “No worries. I’m just happy you’re eating. Gotta keep your strength up.”

  While I ate, David changed the channel, settling on ESPN, but I was too into my lunch to really pay attention to what he was watching. When I finished, I kicked the blanket off so I could take my plate to the sink prompting David to quickly hop up.

  “Here, let me take that. You just relax,” he said, reaching for my dish. Before he could take it, though, he froze, looking at the food left on my plate and arching an eyebrow questioningly.

  I shrugged, glancing at the scattered bread slices, tomatoes, and lettuce. “I guess I wasn’t really feeling the sandwich. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He took the plate. “You ate, that’s all that matters.”

  After discarding my trash and washing my dish, David returned to the couch and pulled me into his arms. I draped the blanket over the both of us and snuggled into his side while we watched television. Now that I’d eaten, my thoughts seemed a little less muddled, but they were still far from the here and now; I was thinking about work again.

  “So, I know I’m supposed to be taking it easy,” I spoke up softly, “but, honestly, I feel great—better than great, actually—and I was—”

  “Wondering when you could go back to work,” David finished for me.

  I nodded once. “Well, yeah. It just doesn’t make sense for me to stay home, feeling useless, when we should be out there figuring out who killed these people. I’ve already missed more than enough time thanks to my extended stay in the hospital.”

  “Brooke—” he argued, but I quickly interrupted.

  Sitting up and shifting onto my knees, I looked right at him. “Look, before you tell me no, let me assure you that I promise to take it easy. I’ll let you know if I feel like I need to slow down. But I can’t just sit at home while this psychopath gets away with it.”

  I was more than ready to continue pleading my case when David smiled and placed his hand on my knee. “I believe you, and I’m just as desperate to solve this thing. Let me talk to your dad, okay? I’ll let him know that you’re feeling better and that you’ll be coming in with me tomorrow.”

  Even though it wasn’t a “yes,” I was relieved by the possibility of returning to work as soon as tomorrow. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into this case; while I trusted O’Malley as a fellow detective, I sensed there was something he might be missing—something he didn’t see that I might.

  Chapter eight | rush

  The sun wasn’t even out by the time I woke the next morning. I looked at the alarm clock and saw it was barely after four a.m. Realizing that I still had two hours before the alarm was set to go off, I rolled over, intent on trying to go back to sleep. But I was wide awake already, feeling my excitement about returning to work growing by the second. I was sure it had something to do with why I was up so damn early, and why my heart raced with what could only be anticipation.

  True to his word, David called Dad last night and told him I wanted to return to work. My father was less than willing to agree to this, but once David promised him that he’d watch me for signs that I might be overworking myself and take me home immediately, he conceded. Knowing that within the next few hours, I’d be at my desk and looking over our latest case made me happy. I’d never really been the housewife-type, so the thought of staying home wasn’t exactly the most appealing thing in the world. No, I’d rather go to work and try to solve these murders. Be productive.

  David remained locked in a deep sleep next to me, snoring lightly, and I smiled at how adorably innocent he looked when completely unaware that I was watching him. I took in how smooth his forehead was when not etched with the lines of worry that had plagued him over the last few days, the brown stubble that was lightly scattered along his square jaw, and the way his pulse jumped through his carotid. I still didn’t know why, but I was more than a little fascinated by the sight of it, feeling almost hypnotized by its steady rhythm.

  An hour passed, and I was still no closer to falling asleep. In fact, I was even more restless than before, like I needed to be up and moving. It was no longer excitement, but anxiety that crept into me, making my arms and legs tense, my chest a little tight, and my skin tingly. Concerned, I considered waking David up, but figured it would be rude since he had admitted to not sleeping well while I was in the hospital. I crawled gently out of bed, pulled on some shorts and a tank top, and tiptoed down the hall to the spare room where I kept my treadmill, thinking I might just need to burn a little energy.

  I started off slow, attempting a proper warm-up, but soon tired of the sluggish pace. Something inside of me needed to go faster. I bumped the speed up to my regular pace, but even that wasn’t sufficient after the first few minutes, and my feet grew uncomfortable in my shoes. I paused my workout, kicked off my shoes, and then resumed, turning up the speed once more. Soon, I was running twice as fast as I normally would, and I felt great—exhilarated. Breathing deeply, my lungs expanding with the fresh pull of oxygen, I closed my eyes and ran faster. The fan from my treadmill pushed cool air over my face and chest, and I imagined myself running outside, my bare feet sinking into the cool dirt before kicking it up behind me. The sky above me darkened, the silver light of the moon shined down on me, and I felt more at peace than ever before. The scene I painted for myself surprised me at first, but something about it just felt right. Like it was where I belonged.

  “You’re up early,” a deep voice called from the doorway, startling me slightly.

  “Oh, hey,” I greeted with a bright smile. It shocked me a little how steady my voice sounde
d considering I’d been running for thirty-three minutes straight. Still feeling pretty fired up, I continued to run as I talked to David. “Yeah, I woke up around four and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

  David looked stunned, and also a little concerned. “You’ve been in here since four?”

  Laughing, I shook my head, finally feeling the first signs of fatigue when my lungs burned slightly. “No. I’ve only been in here for just over a half hour. I was feeling pretty restless, and you looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.” I slowed the treadmill to a brisk walk, feeling pretty good as the first wave of endorphins flooded my body. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a rock,” he assured me, stepping into the room and standing next to the treadmill.

  “Good.” I leaned over, kissing him lightly before continuing my cool down. “You want to run for a bit? I’m going to go hop in the shower and then start breakfast. What do you feel like having?”

  “I’ll cook,” he offered. “What do you want?”

  “No way!” I exclaimed, hopping off the treadmill with a fresh surge of energy. “You took care of me the last few days.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. He responded in kind by draping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. My body tingled when his hand moved down over my backside and then teased the waist of my shorts. “Let me cook for you.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “I want to.”

  Chuckling, David conceded. “All right then. Surprise me. Let me go change, and I’ll get a quick run in.”

  Kissing David on the cheek, I passed by him and headed into the bathroom to have a quick shower. Down the hall, I heard the sound of David running, and I stripped down, discarding my slightly sweaty clothes in the small hamper. Reaching into the stall, I grabbed the faucet handle and turned it. Much to my surprise, the metal groaned and snapped off in my hand. I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell just happened before I tried to reconnect it. It was no use. I tossed the broken handle into the trash basket, wrapped my towel around myself, and ventured back down the hall.