Page 48 of Blood Moon

It hadn’t been an accident. John had gotten there first and had seen the other man coming down the hallway toward him. He’d backed out of sight and waited until just the right moment to step around the corner and almost cause a collision.

“Hey, Frank, how’s it goin’?”

John’s friendly tone and amiable smile took the other man aback. “Uh, you know, typical morning. Another day, another dollar.”

“Tell me,” John said. “I’m up to my eyeballs in paperwork.” Making a point of leaning sideways in order to see around the man’s massive body, John looked down the hallway in the direction of Tom Barker’s office. “Is Barker in?”

Frank’s initial discomposure had worn off. Betweenpads of flesh, his porcine eyes turned into slits of suspicion. “Why?”

“Nothing major. Just something I’ve been wanting to talk to him about.”

“Run it past me. Maybe I can help.”

John brightened. “Maybe. Do you know anything about transmissions?”

The slitted eyes blinked several times. “Transmissions?”

“Yeah, I overheard the boss telling somebody—can’t remember now who—that he had a transmission guy who’s top-notch. Even better,” he said with a wink, “he gives cops a discount on repairs or replacement. My gears have been grinding lately, and I thought—”

“That’s a pile of bullshit, Bowie.”

John frowned with puzzlement. “Really? Which part? The boss doesn’t have a guy? Or he has a guy, but the guy doesn’t give discounts?”

The ogre gave him a baleful look. “I’ve got work to do.” He sidestepped John but deliberately rammed into his left shoulder on his way past, snarling in an undertone, “I’m on to you.”

“Goes both ways,” John said as he flicked a piece of colored paper at the ogre’s face. It hit him square in his broad forehead, bounced off, and fell to the floor.

The ogre looked down and saw that it was a gum wrapper, wadded into a ball, rain-soaked and muddy, but recognizable as the brand he habitually chewed.

He raised his oversize head. The two men stared eye-to-eye with full understanding of each other’s malice. The ogre was the first to break away and resume his progress down the hallway.

Earlier, when John had returned to his house to retrieve Beth’s things, he’d given the dwelling, the shed, and the property a thorough inspection. He’d even searched his SUV for a tracking device.

He’d found the gum wrapper near the entrance to the cul-de-sac. He figured the ogre had left his car on the shoulder of the main road while he’d explored the dead-end lane on foot.

After the torturous farewell scene with Beth in the hotel parking lot, he’d driven all the way back to the fishing camp, returned the compact car to the camouflaged garage, secured the cabin, and then had paddled the boat back to his house, where he’d dragged it into its hiding place.

Taking those precautionary steps had been time-consuming, but he’d felt they were necessary. He would have to be extra vigilant now that the ogre had discovered where he lived. He was even reluctant to leave Mutt alone in the house. Before locking him in, he’d told him, “If anyone poses a threat to you, tear his throat out.”

At least he’d made the ogre aware that he was aware.

Now, as he entered the CAP unit, he greeted fellow detectives with a raised hand or a terse hello but didn’t stop to chat with anyone. When he reached his desk, he booted up his computer and checked his email inbox, but only tackled the time-sensitive ones.

Or tried to tackle them. He would be in the middle of composing a reply when he’d realize that his hands had come to rest motionless on the keyboard. Sentences were left unfinished because his mind continued to revert to those last few minutes with Beth.

When they’d parted, the disappointment and accusation in her eyes had submersed him in guilt. Recalling those same eyes, dazed and lambent after their kiss, filled him with lust.

Re-filled him with lust. Because he’d been bedeviled ever since he’d slid into the booth in that bar and looked into her face. He’d wanted her before he’d learned that she wasn’t just some restless barfly hoping for an afternoon delight, but rather a smart and ambitious woman… who had the potential to make his life hell on earth again.

In that most unromantic of settings, he’d wanted her right then. He’d wanted to see what kind of hair was tucked under the ball cap. He’d wanted to see under her white t-shirt. He’d wanted to see her under him, naked and tangled up.

He still wanted that. But being around her also had awakened him to the hollowness inside him. The Mellin case and its aftermathhadscooped him out. She’d been right about that, and he’d purposefully kept himself empty. But now, because of her, an alien yearning was seeping into that vacancy. He denounced it. He couldn’t give it a foothold. He must not.

“Not gonna happen.” He spoke in a whisper so the coworker nearest him wouldn’t overhear, but he felt he had to say it aloud in order to affirm it, to make it substantive and permanent.

And anyway, she’d made plain her contempt. Because he’d refused to get involved, she thought he was a self-preserving coward. Well, he would just have to live with her low opinion, because his refusal was final.

“So get over it, John.”