Page 60 of Blood Moon

“What about Shreveport?”

“A detective nicknamed Cougar. Talks in a growl, but he was cooperative. The girl there took her dog out to do his business, no sign of a struggle, no one in her apartment complex even heard her dog bark.

“CCTV cameras videoed her on the playground, butshe walked into a darkened area behind one of the buildings. When her dog was next seen on camera, he was dragging his leash. That leads me to believe that the perp knew her routine, knew where the cameras were and how to avoid them.”

“Someone who lived in the complex?”

“They looked at everybody. Even got search warrants for a couple of the men who looked iffy. Never found one single scrap of evidence, even circumstantial. They’re still monitoring them, but so far neither has raised a red flag.”

“They’ll be watching them Thursday night?”

“Cougar assured me they would. The departments in Galveston and Jackson will also be on high alert, but Galveston has Dobbs in prison, Jackson and Shreveport never had a suspect, and ours committed suicide. All to say, it still appears that there’s absolutely no connection among these four disappearances.”

“Except for the moon.”

He grimaced. He’d dreaded having to tell her the reactions of his fellow detectives. “None think it was a factor, Beth, except that Dobbs used the moon to get Larissa on his boat and away from shore.

“Cougar was especially doubtful. He admitted that he’d been soft on that angle since he first heard about it from Gayle Morris. Three and a half years had passed between his case and Morris’s. He said, and I agree, that serial killers usually don’t go that long without being triggered.

“I grant you that the blood moons are an intriguing element, but even full moons drive people to do crazy shit. Ask any law enforcement officer or anyone who works ina hospital emergency room. People dance naked in public fountains, pregnant women go into labor. You get what I mean.

“Anyway, those three detectives listened politely and attentively, they didn’t brush me off, but if I’d been them, I probably would have. They’ll be even more leery of me if they find out that I no longer have a badge. Most telling, they haven’t sent me their case files, and I think those are essential to our progress.”

“I believe they will,” she said with heart.

John wasn’t as convinced. “Barker might have got to them, halted any help they might have provided.”

“I’m remaining optimistic. What do we do in the meantime?”

“When you came out, I was reading through the notes I took on my last interview with Carla Mellin. It ended antagonistically. I was trying to figure out the best way to approach her now. I don’t think just appearing at her door will get me far.”

“She no longer lives at that door.”

“What? You’re sure?”

She told him about her encounter at Carla’s former address. “After he slammed the door in my face, I canvassed other neighbors, which was an exercise in futility. After failing to reach you, and coming away empty-handed there, I took it as a sign to go back to New York.”

“Damn it.” John stacked his hands on top of his head and reared back to look up at the stamped tin ceiling. “Can’t anything be easy? I was hoping to start with Carla.”

“Me too. I thought you might have heard from her during these intervening years.”

“No. There was no love lost between her and those of us who worked the case.”

“That hostility comes across in her interview. She said the police failed her, failed Crissy.”

“Can’t argue that.”

“In the episode, Carla is identified as a ‘working single mom.’ There was no mention of Crissy’s father.”

“Deceased. He was a rover. Once when he was away, Carla was notified by authorities in Missouri that he’d been in a fatal car-train accident. Best day of her life, she told me.

“She used to work for a credit union. I called it earlier this afternoon and was told that she quit soon after Crissy’s disappearance. No one there has heard from her since.”

“Does she have any relatives we can contact?”

“A sister. I have her contact info somewhere in here,” he said, pointing toward the thumb drive in his laptop. “She may be willing to help. Or, just as likely, she’ll tell me to go to hell.” He turned in his chair, angling himself to address Beth more easily. “We need to enlist some help.”

“Mitch?”