Blood Moon (12 page)

I finally stepped back until I hit the car
behind me, my mind whirling, and my skin still buzzing with
excitement and need. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

David snickered, leaning into my body and
pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you hear me complaining?” He
paused, and I felt his forehead wrinkle against mine before he
pulled back and placed the back of his hand to my cheek. “Shit.
You’re burning up again.”

“Am I?” I felt both of my cheeks and then my
forehead. I couldn’t tell the difference, and I didn’t
feel
feverish. Hot and bothered? Check.

“Maybe we should get you home to rest a bit
more. Get some ibuprofen into you to help bring your temperature
back down.” David ushered me into the car and then ran around to
his side and hopped behind the wheel.

Traffic on N Scottsdale Rd was backed up,
which wasn’t unusual at this time of day, so while we waited at an
intersection for our light to change, I glanced over at David.
“Have you been into the precinct at all? I mean, when you haven’t
been visiting me.”

He nodded, easing into the intersection when
the light turned green. “I went in yesterday and then again this
morning before I came to pick you up. Why?”

It would be a lie if I said I hadn’t thought
about the investigation every day since I woke up in the hospital.
The truth was I’d been dreaming about it, too, and it wasn’t
just
the case; I dreamt about the night of Bobby’s death a
lot more than normal, too.

David was still unaware that I knew about
the other three murders, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been reading
the paper or going online with my phone to find whatever
information I could in the meantime. There didn’t seem to be a
particular victimology that the killer was following. The only
similarity was the M.O. and that the victims were aged between
twenty and twenty-five.

Timothy Dent was victim number two, murdered
the day after Samantha Turner. His body had been reported well
after I’d been admitted to the hospital. He was a
twenty-one-year-old student at Scottsdale Community College with
blond hair and brown eyes. He had good grades, stayed out of
trouble, volunteered.

Why him?

Then, there was Sarah O’Dell, a twenty-five
year-old dental assistant. Her blonde hair and blue eyes didn’t
lend anything to a possible pattern, so there was no way for her to
avoid being chosen by this freak.

Lastly, Jason Smith fell victim to this
monster. A brown-haired, blue-eyed tourist visiting from Houston,
he had no connection to any of the previous victims, so his death
couldn’t have been prevented. His girlfriend reported him missing
when he didn’t come back to their hotel the day I woke up.
Apparently she wasn’t feeling well. Turned out she was about ten
weeks pregnant—awesome—and he’d gone out to find her something to
help with the nausea. But he never returned.

The only similarity they shared was the
peculiar neck wound, but no one could tell what type of weapon was
used or if it was the work of the same person.

But
I
knew. I could feel it. I’d
never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I couldn’t
explain how I knew; it was just a feeling I got deep in my gut.

Another question I asked myself was: why
now? Why disappear seven years ago and come back now? Was it some
kind of ritual killing spree? Return to the scene of a past crime
every so often and relive it by killing someone new to get your
rocks off? I couldn’t make sense of it…but, of course, I wasn’t a
psychopath.

“O’Malley’s working the case,” David
informed me, almost as though he knew exactly what was on my
mind.

“Oh?” I replied, feigning innocence. David
laughed, seeing right through me, so I cut the act. “Any
leads?”

David inhaled a deep breath and shook his
head. “Nothing. He’s found absolutely nothing.” He was frustrated,
and to be completely honest, so was I. Four murders and not one
clue? It was unheard of.

Almost, anyway.

“How is that possible?” I asked. “Did they
check the neck wound? They had to have found something in there.
Traces of DNA? Something that could tell us what the murder weapon
was? What about the other—”

I cut myself off, but it was too late; he
knew I knew.

He sighed again, keeping his eyes trained on
the road ahead of us. “I knew you’d find out. Your dad didn’t want
to alarm you.”

“Fat load of good that did,” I quipped.

“The answer is no. We haven’t found any
useful evidence on any of the bodies. Any time they think they’ve
found something, they come up empty.”

I dropped my eyes to my lap and laughed
dryly. “Just like Bobby and the others.”

My frustration mounted, and, as a result, a
mild tremor traveled through my body. I couldn’t understand how
this was happening again after all this time, and I was scared that
this was only going to unearth everything my family had done to
move on with our lives. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to get
through most days.

“Brooke, we can’t be certain that this is
the same guy who killed your brother,” David said softly, reaching
over and taking my hand in his while he turned onto my street.

“Are you kidding?” I demanded. “They were
drained of blood—they all were, right?—there’s no way to tell what
killed them… And what about that mark on their necks, David?
They’re the exact same as the one I found on Bobby’s neck. That
can’t be a coincidence, can it? Tell me you don’t believe
that.”

David was silent for a minute, and I waited
for him to say something. I wanted to tell him to forget about
going home and to take me to the precinct instead so I could look
over the files. There were two problems with that idea though: one,
David was driving and would never do it, and two, even if he did,
my father would kibosh the whole thing before I took more than
three steps toward my desk. No, I would have to be patient and wait
another couple of days to return to work like my doctor said.

Of course, that’s not to say that I couldn’t
have David bring me the files to look over; it wouldn’t be the
first time we brought our work home when we were so close to
closing a case.

“We’ll figure it out,” David finally said,
giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We always do.”

“Not always,” I mumbled, reminding him of
the grim reality of our job. Thinking back on all of the cases that
had gone unsolved over the years, an uneasy feeling stirred within
my belly. Unable to handle this one getting away from me,
especially when I was almost certain that the similarities to
Bobby’s murder weren’t just a coincidence, I turned to David. “I
know you want to believe that this isn’t related to my brother’s
investigation, but can you at least try to entertain the idea? I
mean, what if it is? What if you overlook it and it turns out I was
right, and this guy gets away? Again.”

Eyebrows furrowing in contemplation, David
nodded slowly. “Okay,” he conceded willingly. “We’ll cross check
the past and present files and chart the similarities, but you have
to promise me that you won’t let this case get to you if it turns
out you were right.” He turned to me, his eyes holding mine briefly
before flitting back to the road. “Promise me that you’ll stay
professional and won’t go off half-cocked if we narrow down a list
of suspects. I get that you want to catch the guy responsible for
your brother’s death, but if we don’t go by the book on this,
Brooke, then we’ll jeopardize the entire investigation.”

A vision of me taking down a man twice my
size raced through my mind several times. Each time was different.
In some instances, I shot him; in others, I took him out with my
bare hands, beating him until he was bloody and unrecognizable.

For some reason, I took pleasure in
these…fantasies, and the corners of my lips quirked up. It wasn’t
until I caught a glimpse of myself in the passenger side mirror
that I noticed the wicked gleam in my eyes, and I was instantly
horrified about the morbid turn in my thoughts.

“What is it?” David asked, parking the car
in my driveway and turning to me. “You got awfully quiet just
now.”

Sighing, I let my head fall back against the
seat. “It’s nothing,” I lied. “I just don’t know what to make of
all this.” There was so much going on in my head—everything from
the last few days bouncing off of each other—that it was hard to
focus on one thing specifically. My head was crowded and somewhat
congested, like a headache was starting to make itself known.

Sensing my current state of discomfort,
David opened his door and nodded toward the house. “Come on. Let’s
get you inside.”

Agreeing, I opened my door and stepped out,
meeting David around the front of the car. Once inside, David
ushered me to the living room and sat me down, pulling the blanket
off the back of the sofa and covering me with it. I wasn’t cold,
but the gesture was sweet, so I didn’t say anything. He was just
trying to take care of me after everything that happened.

“You hungry?” he asked, placing a tender
kiss on top of my head.

Food wasn’t really on the top of my priority
list, but the second David mentioned it, my mouth watered.
“Actually, yeah, now that you mention it.”

“What are you in the mood for? I wasn’t able
to make it to the grocery store before you got released, so we
don’t have much.”

I tried to pinpoint what it was I craved,
but I couldn’t; I was way too damn hungry. “Um, I don’t know.”

David headed to the kitchen, and I heard the
fridge open. “Well,” he bellowed, “we have apples, some leftover
something-or-other that’s probably no longer safe for human
consumption, bread, bacon, eggs…”

My mouth watered again, and my hands
trembled. “Bacon,” I replied quickly, licking my lips. “I want
bacon.”

“Okay. And what else?” he inquired, poking
his head around the corner. “I could make you a BLT?”

It didn’t sound nearly as appealing as a
plate full of bacon, but I knew I should have a somewhat balanced
meal. “Sure.” From my spot on the couch, I heard him set the frying
pan on the stove, and I swore I smelled the raw bacon as he opened
the package. It was ridiculous, and I figured it must have been my
voracious appetite toying with me.

“Can I have extra bacon on it?” I asked
loudly, and David chuckled.

“Of course.”

I licked my lips again at the thought of all
of that bacon. “Seriously, though…I want
extra
bacon.”

His laugh grew louder, but he assured me
he’d make the sandwich to my liking.

With David in the kitchen cooking, I leaned
forward and snatched the TV remote off the coffee table and flipped
the power on.

Nothing held my interest for long as the
smell of the bacon infused the air, making me kind of impatient. I
stopped flipping through the channels, focusing more on the sound
of David cooking. It didn’t make any sense to be so hung up on
this, but it was all I could think about. The fact that I wasn’t
drooling surprised me, to be quite honest.

The click of the stove being switched off
excited me. I sat up quickly, criss-crossing my legs in front of me
on the couch in anticipation of my meal. David rounded the corner
from the kitchen, and my mouth watered more, my stomach
growling.

I picked up one of the triangular halves of
the toasted sandwich, appreciating the sight of so much bacon
folded between the lettuce, tomato, and bread, and took my first
big bite. The taste of the bacon was the first thing to bathe my
tongue, and I moaned in satisfaction as I chewed…then, something
rancid infiltrated my mouth, ruining my meal. After I managed to
choke the bite down, I lifted the top piece of bread, looking to
see if maybe the lettuce or tomato had gone bad.

“Something wrong, Brooke?” David asked,
sitting down next to me.

Shaking my head, I lifted the tomato and
gave it a tentative sniff, recoiling as the sweet smell permeated
my nostrils. It didn’t smell
bad
, but it also didn’t smell
appealing to me. Dropping the tomato to the plate, I picked up a
piece of bacon and popped it in my mouth while I determined if the
lettuce was the problem. Turning it over, it looked fine, but,
again, the smell wasn’t enticing—not that lettuce had ever really
held that sort of allure before now.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling the lettuce and
tomato off of the other half of my sandwich. “I guess I’m just not
in the mood for rabbit food.”

David chuckled, relaxing back onto the couch
and throwing an arm behind me as I continued to pick off one piece
of bacon at a time. “No worries. I’m just happy you’re eating.
Gotta keep your strength up.”

While I ate, David changed the channel,
settling on ESPN, but I was too into my lunch to really pay
attention to what he was watching. When I finished, I kicked the
blanket off so I could take my plate to the sink prompting David to
quickly hop up.

“Here, let me take that. You just relax,” he
said, reaching for my dish. Before he could take it, though, he
froze, looking at the food left on my plate and arching an eyebrow
questioningly.

I shrugged, glancing at the scattered bread
slices, tomatoes, and lettuce. “I guess I wasn’t really feeling the
sandwich. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He took the plate. “You ate,
that’s all that matters.”

After discarding my trash and washing my
dish, David returned to the couch and pulled me into his arms. I
draped the blanket over the both of us and snuggled into his side
while we watched television. Now that I’d eaten, my thoughts seemed
a little less muddled, but they were still far from the here and
now; I was thinking about work again.

“So, I know I’m supposed to be taking it
easy,” I spoke up softly, “but, honestly, I feel great—better than
great, actually—and I was—”