Read Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Online

Authors: M. R. Sellars

Tags: #fiction, #thriller, #horror, #suspense, #mystery, #police procedural, #occult, #paranormal, #serial killer, #witchcraft

Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (30 page)

BOOK: Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation
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“Goddammit! Just back off for a minute!” my friend
barked as he muscled the deputy away while keeping an arm hooked
around Felicity. “And, you, put that damn thing away! There’s no
reason for this to get stupid.”

The whole situation was heading south in a hurry,
and none of it was helping my head in the least. My already foul
mood was souring even further, and it definitely wasn’t going to be
a good mixer for the volatility forming right before my eyes.
Unfortunately, my head was hurting too badly to allow me to give
Albright anything other than an honest, gut response. I simply
stared at her and said, “I was looking for some aspirin. Got
any?”

“Get out here!” she demanded, motioning for me to
exit the van.

“Captain, I’m tellin’ ya’,” Ben insisted. “Ya’ need
ta’ just back off. You don’t understand what’s goin’ on here.”

“I can still have you suspended, Storm,” she shot
back.

“That’s a two-way street,” he countered. “You know
you aren’t supposed ta’ be here. All it’d take would be a phone
call, and you’d be in more hot water than you could stand. You know
I’m right.”

She didn’t reply but turned to look at him. I could
only imagine the glare he was receiving.

He held fast and said, “Whaddaya say we just call a
truce before this gets any uglier.”

The standoff had multiplied by several more
uniformed officers, and I knew my friend wasn’t going to back down.
Something told me Albright wasn’t going to budge either.

“Let me handle this,” I called out to the serious
detriment of my headache. Slowly, I twisted in the seat, so I could
face Albright. She turned back to face me, wearing a look of
disdain. I carefully leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees
and held my head between my hands as I muttered, “What is it you
want from me, Barbara?”

I knew from past experience that she hated it when I
called her by her first name, but I wasn’t in the mood for
honorifics at the moment. Especially those I felt were undeserved.
If she wanted a one-on-one with me, then that was what she was
going to get—raw, unabashed, and as close to being on my terms as I
could get.

“I want to know what you’re doing just sitting
there?” she snapped. “You’re supposed to be helping find my
niece.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” I asked, my voice a
pain-wracked mumble.

“You’re just sitting there,” she insisted. “And you
sound like you’re intoxicated.”

“I wish I was, but I’m not. I’m just in a lot of
pain.”

“Well don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

I snorted then said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I can’t believe you’re just sitting there,” she
repeated.

“And exactly what is it you do when you pray?” I
asked.

“Don’t you dare compare my religion to your Godless
heathenry.”

I let out a heavy sigh. “You know, I’m not even
going to waste my breath explaining to you everything that’s wrong
with that statement. However, I am going to say this: We both know
you hate me, but we also both know that you’re the one who insisted
on my being here. My guess is that your love for your niece
outweighs your contempt for me. In any case, here I am. Now do
Judith a favor, back off like my wife asked and just let me do what
I do.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Gant,” she snipped.

“No, Barbara. You are. If this killer really has
your niece, then right now you’re screwing with her life by wasting
my time. Like I said, do her a favor. Let me do my job. If you
really want to help then go home and pray.”

I hadn’t bothered to look up at her for the entire
span of the conversation, relying instead only on auditory cues. I
didn’t move to do so now. I simply continued holding my head
between my hands, kept my breathing as even as I could manage, and
listened to the relative silence in the wake of her
non-response.

Finally, I raised my voice slightly and called out,
“Did the salt get here?”

“Aye,” Felicity returned, bitterness still in her
voice, though I knew it wasn’t directed at me. “It’s here.”

“How about the forensics? Are the crime scene techs
finished?”

“Yeah,” Ben answered. “They were already done when
we sent for the salt.”

“Last question. Do they have any problems with me
touching the car?”

“I’ll check again, but it’s already been okayed,” he
assured me.

“Good,” I grunted, shifting forward and starting to
climb out of the van. “Then let’s do this thing before my fucking
head explodes.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 27:

 

“Ya’know, I bet I’m gonna have a bruise on my shin,”
Ben complained aloud as we walked.

“Aye, you’ll get over it,” Felicity replied, no
sympathy in her voice whatsoever as she glanced over at him for a
second and watched his stride. “It’s not like you’re limping or
anything, then.”

“Yeah, but I could be.”

“Quit being such a crybaby. You don’t hear me
whining about my arm.”

“I didn’t do that to ya’,” he reminded her.

“Doesn’t matter, it still hurts and I haven’t
complained,” she replied. “Unlike you, the big, tough cop.”

I tried to ignore their verbal sparring because as
long as they were at it like this I knew everything was okay
between them. If either of them were truly angry with the other,
they would be sulking in silence and that would be cause to
worry.

We rounded the end of a highway patrol cruiser and
aimed ourselves to the right. A small clutch of officers next to it
parted without a word to allow us through. We paused when we
reached the crime scene tape. Ben reached out and lifted the yellow
plastic ribbon so that Felicity and I could slip beneath it a
little more easily, then he ducked under the barrier himself and
followed us into the no man’s land of the cordoned off zone.

From the looks of the asphalt landscape, it appeared
as if the crime scene had now become akin to a small arena, and the
surrounding cars and sidewalk were the stands filled with uniformed
spectators. Cops and crime scene technicians alike stood next to or
leaning against their vehicles, chatting quietly among themselves
as they watched us make our way across the empty expanse. There was
even a paramedic propped against a life support vehicle that had
been called out to the scene at Ben’s request, just in case things
didn’t go as we planned. Of course, they rarely ever did, so that
was probably a smart move on his part.

I noticed one of the troopers point in our direction
then make a comment to a nearby colleague who chuckled and nodded
vigorously before passing it along to the cop next to him. I could
only speculate about what they were actually saying. Thus far they
were making it a point to keep their voices low, so the occasional
staticky blip of a radio combined with the constant drone of the
traffic on the nearby highway prevented me from actually hearing
them. Even so, it wasn’t hard to make an educated guess each time I
saw their lips moving. I’d been down this road too many times
before, although I had to admit that this time around I felt much
less like a part of the team and more like I was a curiosity on
display.

I gave the small crowd a second cursory glance and
noticed Captain Albright hadn’t bothered to take my advice, not
that I even began to imagine she would. She was standing front and
center among the other officers; however, she didn’t appear to find
anything they were saying to her amusement. She simply watched us
with a stoic expression creasing her face; although, even at a
distance I could see the inner worry in her eyes.

“Why do I suddenly feel like the new kid who’s about
to get the crap beat out of him on the playground?” I mumbled as
the three of us continued on toward Judith Albright’s abandoned
Hyundai sedan.

“Prob’ly ‘cause ya’ pretty much kinda are if ya’
don’t come up with somethin’,” Ben replied.

“That’s not very encouraging,” I told him. “You of
all people know how this works. There are never any
guarantees.”

“Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “But you’re the one who
said it. I’m just agreein’ with ya’.”

“Ignore them,” Felicity interjected.

“Yeah… That was pretty much my plan,” I returned.
“Let’s hope it actually works.”

I was still fighting the hammering inside my skull
and doing so without the benefit of aspirin or anything else for
that matter. Once the escalating altercation at the van had been
dialed back to a manageable level, everything else had started
moving fairly quickly, so I hadn’t had a chance to ask Ben where
they were hidden or even if he actually had any to offer. Almost
immediately following my insistence that we get started, two
plastic grocery bags, both filled with unmistakable cylindrical
containers, had been unloaded from the passenger seat of a deputy’s
patrol car. Then, everyone backed off and waited for something to
happen. I suppose it was a good thing their tickets to this show
were free because special effects-wise I was fairly certain they
were going to be disappointed.

The three of us came to a halt a few steps away from
the sedan and simply stood there. Staring at my faint reflection in
the driver’s side window, I struggled not to think too hard about
the dog and pony show this had now become. I was used to letting
the psychic events occur of their own accord, which never seemed to
be an issue. Now, however, there was an enormous amount of pressure
for me to make it all happen on cue, complete with a skeptical
audience. While I had forced such to occur before, doing so was a
rarity, so I had to hope that whoever was murmuring inside my head
would listen and seize the opportunity to speak up instead of just
endeavoring to make me miserable.

After a substantial pause where I
had scarcely moved, Ben asked, “You goin’ all
Twilight Zone?

“No,” I replied, sighing as I reached up to massage
my forehead from sheer force of habit. “I was just thinking that a
double extra huge bottle of aspirin would be good right about
now.”

“Why didn’t ya’ say somethin’ earlier?”

“Things got a little crazy, if you recall.”

A few seconds later I heard a soft rattle, and his
large hand appeared in front of me, holding a generic brand bottle
of the pain reliever that had apparently been stashed in his jacket
pocket all along.

“Thank the Gods,” I mumbled as I took it from him
and immediately twisted off the cap.

“Rowan, you really shouldn’t…” Felicity began to
object.

Before she could complete the sentence I had already
swallowed something on the order of a half dozen of the white
pills, dry. After choking them down and gagging on the bitterness
at the back of my throat, I held the bottle back out to Ben and
said to her, “You can yell at me later.”

“You know those aren’t going to help matters if you
start bleeding again,” she admonished. “Aspirin is a blood
thinner.”

“So I’ve heard,” I replied. The recollection of
having chronically overdosed on the analgesic some months back for
a very similar reason was still fresh in my mind, so I knew the
risks all too well. I sighed then added, “I know it’s dangerous,
honey. But, right now I need to be able to see straight, or we
aren’t going to get anywhere with this.”

“I understand,” she replied softly. “No bleeding
then, okay?”

“Okay. No bleeding.” We both knew there was no way I
could guarantee such a thing, but if it made her feel better to
hear it, then I was good with making the empty promise.

“So, whadda we do now?” Ben asked. “Just stand here
like the stooges or somethin’?”

“Aye, give me the salt and stand over here next to
me,” Felicity said, motioning to him.

“Since you’re givin’ orders I take it you’re Moe,”
he replied with a small laugh in his voice.

“Just give me the damn salt and quit being a
comedian,” she countered.

“Hey, chill out. It’s been one of those days,
ya’know,” Ben said as he hefted the bags toward her. “It’s just a
little humor. It’s how I cope with this shit.”

Felicity took the weighty bags from
him with much less ease than he had displayed when he held them out
to her. As she settled them to the ground she muttered,

Úmpaidh
.”

Fortunately, Ben didn’t appear to catch the Gaelic
insult, not that he would have understood it if he had. At any
rate, while over the years I had personally come to understand his
use of humor at somewhat inappropriate moments as a safety valve
for the stress, we really did need to get on with things. And, in
this particular case another round of bickering between the two of
them, no matter how good-natured, simply wasn’t on the short
list.

My wife fished out two containers of salt and handed
one of them to him as she said, “Just open them and keep them
coming when I tell you.”

“Do you want me to help?” I asked.

“No, I want you to concentrate on staying grounded,”
she instructed me in no uncertain terms. “We can handle this
part.”

Then, breaking the seal with her fingernail,
Felicity flipped up the metal spout on the top of the carton, then
knelt and began to draw a thick line on the asphalt with the
contents. As soon as the container was empty, she handed it to Ben
and took the fresh replacement from him. After a minute or so, she
had scribed almost two-thirds of a wide circle around the three of
us.

Just as she was taking a newly opened carton from
Ben, one of the cops on the perimeter called out, “You want some
pepper to go with that?”

Even with the road noise, there was no missing the
burst of chuckles that skipped through the group. Felicity paused
for a second, shook her head slightly as she muttered something
unintelligible, and then continued on with her task.

BOOK: Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation
6.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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