The Killing Moon Read online

  Contents

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

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  About the Author

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  I’m a pretty nice guy once you look past the grisly images in my head. Most of all, I love connecting with awesome readers like you.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  October 30th

  9:20 p.m.

  “He’s coming for you, Barton Falls. Nobody escapes the Halloween Man.”

  Fourteen-year-old Scout Mourning pushed her wheelchair toward her desk and turned the volume up on the computer speakers. She’d grown addicted to Violet Lyon’s live streaming podcast. Not that she took the macabre Violet seriously. Every night for the past week, Violet had talked about the Halloween Man, a mythical killer who emerged on the holiday to murder new victims. A fan of horror and thriller movies, Scout couldn’t get enough of Violet Lyons, as cheesy as the show had become. Thousands agreed, judging by the number of listeners tuning in tonight.

  “He wears an orange pumpkin mask, and he carries a butcher’s knife. Locked doors can’t stop him. Even Harmon Sanitarium couldn’t prevent him from breaking free. He planned this night for years. Now he wants revenge on the society that locked him away. He’s coming for you, Barton Falls. He’s coming home.”

  Scout giggled. Yeah, a little too cheesy. It seemed Violet had merged John Carpenter’s Halloween with Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street, all classic horror movies from the seventies and eighties.

  Scout paged through her trigonometry notes and scribbled an equation. Down the hall, her mother, Naomi, clicked off the television. Mom ran operations for Sheriff Thomas Shepherd’s company, Shepherd Systems, and needed to wake up early for work. Scout’s next door neighbor, the sheriff, wasn’t cut out for corporate work. After he inherited the business from his father, he hired Naomi. The floor squeaked outside Scout’s bedroom door. She muted the volume when her mother knocked.

  “I’m headed to bed, Scout. Don’t stay up late.”

  “I won’t, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too, hon.”

  When Mom’s bedroom door closed, Scout inched the volume higher. Violet was still rattling on about the Halloween Man and the impending slaughter of Barton Falls, a little town that sat fifteen miles outside Wolf Lake. Through the window, moonlight sparkled off the black water. During the day, the lake appeared blue and vibrant, a reflection of the sky. At night, it was depthless, secretive.

  The wheel snagged on the carpet as Scout swiveled back to the computer. She muscled the wheels until the chair moved again. Two years ago, while her father still lived with them in Ithaca, a tractor trailer struck their vehicle from behind, crushing Scout in the backseat. She was lucky to be alive, though the accident stole her ability to walk. Her parents separated after her father blamed himself for the accident and crawled into a hole of self-pity.

  While Violet scared her listeners, Scout called up a second browser tab and checked the Virtual Searchers forum. Unable to take part in sports, Scout had fallen in love with amateur sleuthing. Virtual Searchers was a place for teen sleuths to congregate and solve mysteries and cold case crimes from across the world. She’d used the website to help catch Jeremy Hyde, a serial killer living in nearby Harmon. Her research attracted the murderer. Then the killer masqueraded as a teen girl on the Virtual Searchers forum and befriended Scout. She shivered, remembering how close the killer had come to catching her. Now she cast a wary eye at new forum members. A healthy dose of skepticism kept her alive.

  “Fifteen years ago, he murdered his parents, then butchered eight teenagers on Halloween night before the authorities finally caught him. Now, you might wonder why you never heard about the murders. Elementary, dear listeners. The Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department, which has jurisdiction over Barton Falls, buried the story. Can you appreciate how far property values would fall if the truth got out? Barton Falls isn’t a safe place to live. It’s not Mayberry. You can’t trust your neighbor or leave your doors unlocked at night. Not with the Halloween Man loose.”

  Scout closed the sleuthing forum with a huff. No fresh cases to keep her busy. The weather had taken a turn for the worse in the upstate New York village of Wolf Lake. Today had been cloudy and sullen with a wind that cut through her bones as she pushed herself from the school to the bus. The forecast predicted snow showers by Monday. It was too early for winter. But there were no guarantees of a pleasant autumn this far north.

  “There isn’t a horror movie I haven’t watched. I don’t scare easily. But I have to admit, I’m terrified. You see, I’m the person talking about the Halloween Man every night. He knows who I am.” After a dramatic pause that pulled Scout’s attention to the computer screen, Violet Lyon continued. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I received a gift from the Halloween Man this morning. As I stumbled down the porch steps, already late for the bus, I saw something shiny beneath the shrubberies. It was a butcher’s knife. No blood, no proof that the Halloween Man had already claimed a victim. He was sending a message. If I continue this podcast, I’ll be his next target.”

  “Yeah, right,” Scout snorted. “You need new material, Violet.”

  “So I come to you tonight at great personal risk. The danger is real, and I need to inform everyone listening so you can take protective measures.”

  Scout checked her phone and sent a text to LeVar Hopkins. The former Harmon Kings gang member lived in Thomas Shepherd’s guest house. He’d reformed his life, earned his GED, and enrolled at the community college to study criminal justice. Since Scout had convinced LeVar to listen to Violet, he’d hooked himself on the silly show.

  Are you listening to Violet’s podcast?

  Scout gave LeVar a chance to reply. Maybe LeVar had his phone turned off so he could study. He worked part time for Wolf Lake Consulting, a local private investigation firm. Chelsey Byrd, Thomas Shepherd’s girlfriend, ran Wolf Lake Consulting with her lead investigator, Raven Hopkins, who was LeVar’s sister. Raven, LeVar, Scout, and Darren Holt, the
state park ranger, collaborated on investigations together. Thomas often joked they were a modern version of the Scooby Doo mystery gang.

  “I realize how unbelievable this sounds. But today in school, I sensed someone watching me. You know the feeling you get? The one that spreads goosebumps down your body and makes the hair stand on the back of your neck? While I was in class, I spied a shadow behind the trees. He was there. The Halloween Man. And that’s not all. After lunch, I opened my locker and found a tiny pumpkin on the shelf. Sure, anyone might have placed it there. But who could have broken inside my locker besides a school official or a janitor? I don’t give out my combo. Too many devious secrets hidden in my locker.” Violet cleared her throat. “Nothing illegal, Principal Dane. Forget I mentioned it. Anyhow, it’s not like school officials walk around with pumpkins all day.”

  All right. Violet’s podcast had taken a turn for the worst. Scout reached for the volume knob and paused when a door creaked open. It sounded like it came from inside her own bedroom. She spun the chair around and stared at the closet and bedroom doors, both closed. No, the sound had come through the speakers. Violet chattered about the mythical murderer. Two footsteps preceded a scream.

  “I’m your boyfriend now, Violet.”

  The deep voice sent a shock wave through Scout. A loud thud almost blew the speakers as Violet’s microphone toppled to the floor.

  Another blood-curdling scream. This wasn’t real. It had to be an act. The grand finale.

  Scout flinched when a knife plunged into soft flesh. She forced herself to picture Violet jabbing a butcher’s knife into a pillow. Instead, the leering grin of Norman Bates haunted her.

  The murder sounded authentic. Violet begged and pleaded between screeches. Then she went silent.

  Scout’s breathing halted as the quiet thickened. She leaned forward. Listening. Terrified.

  Someone picked the microphone off the floor and set it upright. Scout expected Violet to laugh and gloat. She’d just pulled the perfect prank. Years ago, Scout had read about the War of the Worlds radio broadcast from 1938. The entire nation once believed martians were attacking earth.

  But Violet didn’t speak. Someone breathed over the microphone. Low and guttural.

  Scout reminded herself this was an elaborate joke. Bad drama, no different from the horror movies she watched with LeVar and Raven over a bowl of popcorn.

  So why did it seem so real?

  CHAPTER TWO

  October 30th

  9:25 p.m.

  Thomas Shepherd lay on the pillow with Chelsey Byrd beside him. His skin beaded with sweat as she traced a finger from his chest to his navel. One hand beneath his head, he draped a free arm around Chelsey and held her close. She exhaled and smiled up at him.

  “Why did we wait so long?”

  He snickered and shook his head.

  “I have no idea. Let’s not wait so long next time.”

  “Preach, Sheriff.”

  Expansive windows covered Thomas’s A-Frame and offered picturesque views. Outside, the moon reflected off the water and painted highlights as breakers pushed against the shoreline. Around the sleepy lake, lights from faraway homes winked back at them.

  Dog tags jingled. Chelsey lifted her head.

  “I feel bad for Jack. It’s like we kicked him out of bed.”

  “Don’t worry about Jack,” Thomas said, massaging her shoulders. During the summer, Thomas had discovered Jack on the state park grounds. He believed the massive pup to be a Siberian Husky. His veterinarian wasn’t convinced, theorizing he was a crossbreed of some sort. “He prefers sleeping on the floor. Anyhow, if we let him on the bed, there won’t be room for us after he stretches out. Trust me, I barely have room when it’s just Jack and me.”

  Chelsey closed her eyes and sighed. They’d dated in high school before major depression struck Chelsey. Confused and frightened, she’d pushed Thomas and her friends out of her life. Thomas never stopped loving Chelsey, though their lives meandered in separate directions. While Chelsey traveled the United States without direction, working odd jobs as she pulled her life together, Thomas graduated college and accepted a position with the LAPD. Overcoming Asperger’s syndrome, he rose to detective before a gangland shooting almost crippled him.

  The bullet’s ghost dug into the small of his back. He’d never rid himself of the pain.

  After recovering, Thomas returned to his hometown of Wolf Lake, accepted a deputy position with the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department, and purchased his Uncle Truman’s old house beside the lake. Chelsey had avoided Thomas at first. She’d worried rekindling their relationship would cause her depression to return. The idea was illogical, but Thomas learned years ago not to underestimate the mind’s capacity for concocting irrational fears. He was happy to have Chelsey back in his life.

  “Only a few weeks until you become sheriff,” she said, ruffling his disheveled hair. “The big kahuna.”

  “It doesn’t seem real.”

  After Sheriff Gray retired, Thomas had become interim sheriff. Gray promised Thomas the position would be his as long he wanted it. Sheriff Gray had run unopposed in the last election, and after Thomas thwarted three murderers in his six months since returning from Los Angeles, nobody had challenged Thomas. In less than two weeks, he would become Sheriff of Nightshade County in the department where he’d interned as a high school student. Trepidation whispered in the back of his mind. Had he made the right decision leaving Los Angeles?

  “You’ll make the best sheriff this county has ever seen.”

  “Now you sound like my father.”

  Thomas winced after the comparison left his lips. He felt at home in Wolf Lake, surrounded by the familiarity of the village where he’d come of age. Yet death and tragedy followed Thomas, rapping its bony knuckles on his door in the dead of night. Besides the three killers that had terrorized the county, cancer had stolen his father.

  “Your dad was proud of you, even though he didn’t know how to show it.”

  Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat. He patted the bed, and Jack’s head lifted. A second later, the humongous canine leapt onto the bed and swung his head back and forth, first licking Chelsey’s face, then Thomas’s.

  “Easy, Jack,” Thomas said, stroking the dog’s fur. “All right, you can hang out with us. But when it’s time for sleep, you’ve got your doggy bed.”

  Chelsey waved a hand through the air.

  “You don’t have to kick him out. I can’t stay the night.”

  Thomas sat up.

  “Oh?”

  “Who will care for Tigger?” Tigger was Chelsey’s orange tabby. She’d found the cat pawing around her garbage and adopted him. “Besides, I need to open the office early tomorrow. Raven has the day off.”

  “What about LeVar? Can’t he steer the ship for you?”

  “He’s coming in at noon, and I don’t want to dump too much on his plate. LeVar needs to study.”

  Thomas settled his head into the crook of her elbow. Jack lay at their feet, gnawing on a bone.

  “I get it. Well, I hope you’re here for dinner. I’ll be home after four.”

  Chelsey tapped his shoulder.

  “Did you forget? Tomorrow is Halloween. We’ll both be busy handing out candy all evening.”

  Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

  “Ugh. Halloween is our busiest night of the year. There’s always someone causing mayhem in the county. I predict overtime in my future.”

  “Don’t be a Charlie Brown. Halloween rules. There’s a full moon this year, so you know what that means.”

  “It means I’ll be chasing juvenile delinquents past midnight. Full moons make everyone crazy, right?”

  “No, it means you’ll stop by my place after the trick-or-treaters call it a night.”

  Thomas waggled his eyebrows.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She thumped him on the head.

  “I meant we’ll stay up late watching scary movi
es. And maybe we can do other things after.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language. So what’s on the docket?”

  “Since it will be a full moon, a werewolf marathon is a must.”

  Thomas chuckled at the ceiling.

  “So I’m spending my evening with Lon Chaney.”

  “I’m thinking along the lines of An American Werewolf in London, The Howling, and Silver Bullet.”

  “Go big, or go home.”

  “Exactly.”

  Thomas hadn’t planned on a gory movie marathon, but it sounded fun. They’d become close over the last month, first as friends. Then they’d slipped into a romantic relationship, neither noticing until they were spending every evening together. Thomas kissed the top of her head. Her freshly shampooed hair smelled like vanilla milk and papaya. Still, he worried about Chelsey. During the summer, she’d repeated mistakes from fourteen years ago by pushing her friends away. She forever teetered on the edge of depression. He hoped their relationship helped her turn the corner. Since Thomas and Chelsey had become a couple, her anxiety attacks had ended, and the color had returned to her complexion. She looked ten years younger.

  An orange rectangle of light disappeared from the yard when LeVar flicked off his lamp. Life was good, Thomas thought to himself. Besides having Chelsey back in his life, he was surrounded by friends—LeVar in the guest house, the Mourning family next door. Raven lived with her mother, Serena, on the other side of the lake, and Darren’s cabin was a fifteen-minute walk from Thomas’s back door. He closed his eyes and breathed. The window was open a crack, despite the October chill. One lonely cricket chirped from the yard. The cricket’s friends had retreated for the season.

  Chelsey glanced at the clock.

  “That’s my cue. If I don’t get home soon, Tigger won’t forgive me.”

  “You could bring him by sometime.”

  Chelsey moved her gaze from Jack to Thomas.

  “Seriously?”

  “Good point. Jack’s a good boy, but I’ve never seen him around cats.”

  “My guess is he’d love Tigger the way he loves a juicy steak.” As Chelsey pulled a sweatshirt over her head, her phone hummed. She fixed her sleeves and swiped the phone. “That’s weird. Nobody calls me this late except for you and Raven, and she’s hanging out with Darren tonight.”