The Killing Moon by Dan Padavona (books you have to read TXT) 📗

real person. To verify the results, Scout called up last year’s Barton Falls yearbook. Again, no Violet Lyon.

“She’s using an assumed name,” Serena said. “How do you figure out her legal name?”

Jack’s head swiveled between them, as if he understood.

“We keep snooping,” Scout said.

Scout moved through the yearbook, page by page. She assumed Naomi and Serena would become bored, but their interests only grew as Scout searched for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Violet might be staring them in the face in dozens of pictures, but how would Scout know? After they perused the athletic teams, Serena tapped the screen with her finger.

“Let’s think this through,” Serena said. “This girl spends her nights creating podcasts and making up stories. Does that sound like a soccer player or sprinter to you?”

“No, it sounds like someone in the drama club,” Naomi said.

Scout had to admit Serena and Naomi were on to something. But after Scout studied the names and faces from the drama club photograph, nobody jumped out at her. Frustrated, she moved to the next page.

Her heart leaped. The media club. It made sense someone interested in podcasting and internet streaming would join the media club. Eight boys and five girls comprised the media club. Was Violet in the picture? Scout stopped on a pretty girl wearing a black T-shirt with a lion on the front. The mischief in the girl’s eyes pulled Scout’s attention. It was as if the girl hid a humorous secret from the world.

“That has to be her,” Scout said, pointing at the girl.

“What?” Naomi scooted her chair closer. “Why do you say that?”

“Read the name. Valerie Leonard.”

“Violet Lyon, Valerie Leonard.”

“Plus, lion and Lyon are homophones.” Scout set the mouse aside and accepted hugs from her mother and Serena. “Why didn’t I figure it out until now? I should tell LeVar.”

Smiles etched across their faces as Scout placed the call.

“All I need to do is find Valerie Leonard, and I’ll prove Violet Lyon didn’t die during her podcast,” Scout told LeVar.

“You did it again,” he said. “Not sure we saved anyone’s life this time. But at least we know the Halloween Man didn’t murder Violet on her show. Valerie Leonard, you said?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll tell the crew. We wondered how your investigation was going.” After a moment, LeVar said, “I wish you were here with us, Scout.”

Scout’s throat tightened. She wanted nothing more than to join LeVar, Darren, Raven, and Chelsey in the field someday.

“I wish I was too.”

“Stay near your computer. We might need your help again later.”

“Will do.”

Satisfaction and a sense of belonging warmed Scout’s chest. The way her mother and Serena admired her amplified those feelings.

“Now what?” Serena asked.

“I guess that’s the end of the investigation.”

Disappointment drooped their faces. To Scout, the investigation seemed incomplete. She’d forgotten something important.

“I’m your boyfriend now, Violet.”

The Halloween Man skit returned to her. That was a line from a horror movie. Nightmare on Elm Street, Scout recalled.

“Oh, no,” Scout muttered, covering her mouth.

Naomi moved to her daughter’s side.

“What’s the matter, hon?”

In the movie, Freddy Krueger spoke that line. And someone named Krueger31 stalked Valerie on internet message forums.

“We need to find Krueger31. He’s the real Halloween Man.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

October 31st

3:40 p.m.

The pressure overwhelmed Valerie. Her life had become a nightmare.

She slumped to the floor inside her bedroom and twisted the lock on the door. Her shoulders trembled. Tears streamed down her face as her parents fought inside the kitchen. They argued over Valerie’s punishment for disobeying their orders and sneaking out with Derek. Wasn’t it enough that someone murdered her boyfriend?

A twin bed lay tucked in the far corner of the room with a Vampire Weekend poster affixed to the wall above her pillow. Opposite her bed, a desk held a computer and webcam, plus a broadcast quality microphone. She was broken. A fraud. If only her fans could see her now, sniveling like a terrified two-year-old.

A purr pulled her eyes to the closet. Loomis, her three-month-old Devon Rex kitten, padded out of hiding and curled in her lap. The kitten nuzzled against Valerie’s chest as she stroked its fur.

“Don’t worry, Loomis. They’re just yelling. They won’t hurt you.”

The kitten meowed in answer and stretched its limbs, tiny claws digging against Valerie’s legs. Her father’s voice boomed through the downstairs and dominated Valerie’s mother. In this house, he had the last word. Every time. Anyone who questioned his authority learned never to speak out again.

Valerie pressed her ear to the door and clutched the handle as if it was a lifeline.

“Why didn’t you let the police look at the car?” Charisse sobbed. “Derek is dead. The least we can do is cooperate with the investigation.”

“I won’t let them examine the Passat, Charisse. Don’t argue with me.”

Loomis squirmed.

“Shh,” Valerie said, soothing the frightened kitten. “He just needs to yell himself out, and it will all be over soon. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Except she was afraid. Terrified by what had happened to Derek, frightened by her father’s rage.

“What harm would it have done?” Charisse asked.

“Are you crazy? First, they search the car, then they come back with a warrant for the house. The next thing you know, one of us leaves our home in handcuffs.”

“But we did nothing wrong.”

Ed Leonard didn’t reply. Valerie’s breath caught in her chest as she waited for her father to say something.

The ensuing quiet was like the split-second between lightning and thunder. Valerie’s mind returned to the locker room. Someone had locked her inside and stalked her. After she escaped through the fire exit, the Halloween Man glared at her across the parking lot. A moment later, he disappeared behind a row of vehicles. Nothing made sense. The Halloween Man wasn’t real. She’d created the legend to frighten her listeners.

Had she opened the gates of hell? Someone was dressing up as the Halloween Man. The possibility that the same maniac murdered Derek sent chills down her spine.

Derek’s wallet.

She’d forgotten the wallet until now. Assuming her boyfriend was playing a prank on