Page 112 of Blood Moon

“I was involved from the start. Barker screwed me over, too, don’t forget. You’re not the only one who feels rotten about that fuckin’ travesty of an investigation.”

They said their goodbyes. Seconds later, John received a text with a long list of social media handles. He saw immediately that most related in some clever or quirky way to a faction of the paranormal.

He texted a copy of the list to his counterparts in the other three cities and gave them a brief explanation of what they were. He didn’t disclose how he’d obtained them.

Mutt, who’d cleaned not only his bowl but also the floor,ambled over to be let out. John was closing the door behind him when one of his phones rang. It was the detective in Jackson. “Did you get my text?” John asked.

“Just now. I had my phone in my hand to call you. The guy we looked at years ago?”

“The wagger with the alibi?”

“I went to see him today. He acted squishy, you know?”

“I know squishy.”

“He got even squishier when I asked if he had any tattoos.”

John’s heart became a drumbeat, and it lasted for the next several minutes while the detective talked. John was signing off with him when he heard the bedroom door opening. He turned and gave Beth a smile and a thumbs-up.

The other detective was saying, “At first I thought you were a little nuts and that this blood moon stuff was horseshit. Thanks, Bowie. You’ve made our cold case hot.”

“Send me everything you have on the guy and keep me posted. I’ll do the same.” He ended the call, dropped the phone, and pumped the air above his head with his fist. “That was Roberts. Their person of interest has a red crescent moon tattoo on his shoulder. They have him in custody.”

He picked up his phone again and began composing a text message to Morris and Cougar while continuing to bring Beth up to date. “And that’s not all. Mitch and dark web moles came through.” He told her that news. “What I thought we’d do is—”

It wasn’t until then that he realized she wasn’t reacting with the enthusiasm these developments warranted.“Sorry,” he said. “What about Brady? How’d he react when you told him he’s about to commit career suicide?”

“He fired me.”

John looked at her, aghast. “Hefiredyou?”

She dropped down into the chair in front of her laptop. “On the spot. Effective immediately. Although he is being gracious enough to leave Max’s and my names in the credits.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Brady certainly was. Richard has been appointed to clean all personal belongings out of my office and send them to my apartment unless I specify another address.”

John dragged his hand down his face. “I don’t even know him, and I want to use a pair of pliers to rip off his balls.”

“If you knew him, you’d want to even more.”

“How could he discount all the debunked facts in that episode?”

“He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him about them! I didn’t get a word in edgewise. He didn’t hear anything I said because he was too preoccupied with giving me the heave-ho. Of course, because I’m a member of the old regime, he’s been waiting for a valid excuse to usher me out. Carla Mellin gave him one, and it’s a dilly.”

“Carla?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She called him this afternoon, and got put through because of her ‘moving contribution to the episode.’ Which I know is hogwash. Half the questions put to her, she refused to answer.

“Today, however, she was apparently more talkative. Brady advised me not to bother asking for a letterof recommendation, because even my late, great mentor wouldn’t have endorsed alunatic.”

John cursed. “She used that line?”

“She did, with elaboration. In short, she told him that I’m trying to sabotage tomorrow night’s program because of my belief in the supernatural powers of a blood moon. I’ve been to see her twice, both times harassing her with questions about the occult, numerology, astrology, tattoos symbolic of Roman goddesses, and the like. I’ve tried to draw a connection between the mystic world and her daughter’s disappearance, which is not only untrue but insulting.

“And my partner in all this madness? None other than John Bowie, the bungling detective. With whom, she suspects, I’m being intimate.” She glanced up at him self-consciously before continuing.

“Initially you had blamed the corruption within the PD for your failure to find her daughter. Now I have brainwashed you into believing this mysticism nonsense.” She pulled at a loose thread on the sleeve of her t-shirt. “The funny thing—”