Page 70 of Blood Moon

“If that’s the case, identify that car and driver and find out when and where they were dropped off.”

“Which is exactly what Bowie would expect us to do. He’d no longer be where they were dropped.” Frank took a breath. “What I think? I think we sit back and let Bowie do all the hiding and ducking while we wait for him to show his head.”

Tom scrutinized him without saying anything until it became uncomfortable.

Belligerently, Frank said, “What?”

“It’s sounding to me like you’re scared of him, Frank.”

He didn’t like that. Not at all. Especially because there was a speck of truth to it. Physically, he could pound Bowie to mush. But Bowie was smarter than him, and he had a cold way of smiling while he was threatening to blow your head off that made you think that he would do it, and that he’d enjoy it.

Tom was still eyeing him with a faint smirk.

“Scared of Bowie?” he scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”

“Kinda sounds like that,” Tom said.

The two stared each other down, and Frank was pleased when Tom was the first to relax and break eye contact. He said, “Before you got here, I went to see the superintendent. It took only one look at me to get his authorization. He was queasy about the negative publicity it will no doubt generate, but he said he’ll put a spin on it. Something to the effect that when he spots a bad apple, he gets rid of it so it won’t spoil the whole barrel.”

“Authorization for what?”

“A warrant for the arrest of John Preston Bowie. Assault and battery and assorted lesser offenses against a police officer. That’s the official mandate.” He leaned forward across his desk and lowered his voice. “But what I really want to happen, Frank, is for you to locate the son of a bitch but not to bother with bringing him in. Got it?”

Loud and clear. “What about her?”

“Two can be disposed of in a swamp as easily as one.”

Frank grunted understanding and heaved himself up.

As he headed for the door, Tom said, “I don’t believe I need to remind you how much is riding on your success or failure.”

The ogre turned and flashed his grotesque grin. “Mainly your ass, Tom. Mainly your ass.”

Last night, immediately upon hearing his daughter’s tearful voice, John had covered the speaker, apologized to Beth, and told her it was a call he had to take. He’d bade her a quick good night and then had retreated into his bedroom and closed the door.

Now as she came into the main room, he was in the kitchen making coffee. “Good morning.”

He told her good morning, then, “I have to go see my daughter.” Before she had time to respond, he continued in a clipped voice. “The officer I charged with getting an address for Carla Mellin came through. So we’ll drive into town together. We’ll go see her after my talk with Molly.”

“Okay.” She didn’t remark on that being the first time he’d called his daughter by name.

Obviously distressed, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m meeting her at a coffee shop within walking distance of her school. She’s upset. I hope you understand that it’s not a good time to be making introductions. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I don’t mind waiting in the car.”

“Thanks. Her first class is at nine, so…” He motioned toward the wall clock, and Beth got the message.

“Give me ten minutes.”

During the drive into Auclair, he said little. That now familiar dent stayed between his eyebrows, indicating to her that whatever was going on with his daughter was troubling him greatly.

Fearing he might get prickly if he thought she was prying, she asked mildly, “How old is Molly?”

He stirred as though he’d been completely lost in thought. “Sixteen. In that picture you saw of us on the beach, we were celebrating her twelfth birthday. That was before the bottom fell out.”

“Of…?”

“Everything.”