Page 64 of Blood Moon

John grumbled, “Nothing precious about it.”

“We can discount the Whitmore case,” she said. The file from Gayle Morris in Galveston had popped up in John’s email shortly after he’d received the other two. “Detective Morris is thorough, but that case isn’t relevant.”

“Larissa Whitmore’s body was never found.”

“But the culprit is in prison.”

“Dobbs seems too conspicuous.”

“Like Billy Oliver.”

“Exactly like that. If Dobbs threw that girl overboard, it doesn’t make sense to me that he then curled up in his bunk and went to sleep. Billy is dead, Dobbs is locked away. Both dispatched. What are the odds?”

“You think they’re scapegoats?”

“I don’t know what to think.” He pulled himself out of the chair and began pacing. “For the moment, let’s not discount the Whitmore case.”

“Why?”

“Geography. You yourself said the abductions were regional.”

“You said they weren’t.”

“I was being a jerk, wishing you would go away. But afterward, I looked at a map. The four cities are locatedwithin an area bordered by two parallel interstates running east to west, and another two running parallel north and south.”

“You’re including Galveston?”

“It’s just a jog off Interstate 45. It’s not a perfect square, but if our perp lives somewhere inside that area, those cities would make convenient hunting grounds. In advance of the blood moon, he set up shop.”

“A place to do his dirty work? He couldn’t have owned or leased any kind of structure without leaving a paper trail.”

He spread his arms out from his sides, indicating the cabin. “I have.”

“But he may not be as smart as you.”

“Or he’s a lot smarter. You, too, because you raised a good point. So, okay, let’s assume that he chose these cities because he’s well acquainted with them, knows the highways and byways. On the night of the blood moon, he drives into town, cruises the streets until he spies a vulnerable target. A young woman walking her dog. One riding her bicycle.”

“Crissy was leaving a convenience store.”

“He could easily have grabbed them and been gone in under a minute.”

“I doubt any of those women willingly went with him. How did he subdue them?”

Beth was playing devil’s advocate, but rather than become irritated with her, John seemed to welcome the dialogue. Speaking his thoughts aloud had energized him. Brow furrowed, fingers linked over his nape, elbows extended, he walked a tight circle.

“There are all kinds of ways to subdue the victim,” he said.“Right now, let’s focus on once she’s in his clutches. What next? Does he do the deed then and there and dispose of her immediately? Or does he transport her to a place he’s prepared?”

“I would say the latter.”

“So would I. He’s not impulsive. This is one patient son of a bitch. He waits for blood moons to get his thrill. My guess is that he takes them somewhere. Like a trophy.” He flipped his hand toward the head of the fearsome razorback on the wall.

“He has a lair,” he continued. “But not one in each city. No, this is someplace near his home where he can go on a regular basis. He goes to gloat and savor his successes. If we find him and his den, God knows what else we’ll find.”

He stopped moving and looked down at her. “Proving yourself right might involve some horrific stuff, Beth. You need to reconcile yourself to that. If we catch him, you need to be prepared for anything, and it could still be beyond your worst imagining. We may find three bodies. Possibly Larissa Whitmore, too.”

“She was in the Gulf of Mexico, on a boat, with Dobbs.”

“Even he doesn’t dispute that.”