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

wind gust would topple the teacher.

“Still, you understand our concern. It seems unusual for a teacher to phone his student without first asking her parents for permission.”

“I’m a terrible person,” Pierpoint muttered. “Of that, I’m guilty. I failed as a husband, just as I failed to keep Derek safe.”

“Mr. Pierpoint, do you sleepwalk?”

The man’s mouth fell open. No words emerged.

“Sir?”

“I do.”

“When did you begin sleepwalking?”

The teacher scratched his head. He’d bitten his nails down to jagged claws.

“After my wife left me, I suspect.”

“And that was when?”

Pierpoint swiveled to face Thomas.

“Three months ago.”

Thomas peered at the neighboring houses. Lights shone from porches, and shadows passed by windows. He needed a neighbor to verify Pierpoint’s whereabouts.

“Were you home all evening, or did you leave the house tonight?”

“I napped on the couch before I phoned Ms. Leonard.”

“So you’ve been here all evening?”

“I hope so, dear Sheriff.” Pierpoint lowered his gaze to his feet, as if searching for a clue that would tell him where he’d traveled. “I truly do.”

“Do you recall where you were between six and six-thirty this evening?”

“No.”

“What about between midnight and two this morning?”

“Asleep in bed, I pray.”

“But you’re unsure.”

“There are no guarantees in life.”

Thomas glanced at Kimmons as the teacher wavered. Holding out a hand to catch Pierpoint if he lost his balance, Thomas studied the man’s pallid face. Utter despair and hopelessness poured from those eyes. Windows to a broken soul.

“I’d like you to accompany me to the station, Mr. Pierpoint.”

A wry grin formed on the teacher’s face.

“Are you placing me under arrest?”

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“I know my rights. Unless you place me under arrest, I’m under no obligation to go with you.”

“I understand. This is for your own good.”

Pierpoint nodded.

“Allow me to gather my shoes and jacket.”

The door closed. Thomas wondered if Pierpoint would throw the lock and ignore them. More than anything, he worried about the teacher’s state of mind and didn’t trust him alone in the house. The guilt flooding through Pierpoint made Thomas wonder if the teacher had killed Derek Jordan. But what was his motivation?

While Pierpoint donned a jacket, Thomas stepped off the stoop and followed the driveway to an attached garage. Three windows offered a view inside. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he squinted. A car slumbered in the gloomy interior. He flicked a flashlight over the vehicle, sighed, and returned to Kimmons.

“Anything of note?” she asked.

“Pierpoint drives a silver Toyota Camry, not a dark sedan. I can’t examine the tires without entering the garage.”

The door opened. The glassy-eyed teacher held his arm out for Thomas.

“Lead the way, Sheriff.”

CHAPTER FORTY

October 31st

7:40 p.m.

LeVar trailed Chelsey through the frosty meadow, the grass and weeds crunching beneath their sneakers. There was a sharpness to the cold, a dangerous edge that would bleed them dry if they slipped up. Along the road, Chelsey paused and studied the farmhouse. The shadowed figure had rounded the property, no doubt intent on entering through the damaged back door. Chelsey tapped LeVar’s shoulder and scurried across the dirt and gravel road, bent low to prevent being seen. Her speed and agility surprised LeVar, as did the woman’s supernormal ability to move without making a sound.

Chelsey leaped the shoulder and crept through the meadow. Stopping beside the copse, she knelt behind a tree and tilted her head at the hidden vehicle.

“Gray Subaru Forester,” she said.

“Same plates as the security footage showed at the bus terminal.”

“I’ll call the deputies.”

While Chelsey placed the call, LeVar concentrated on the farmhouse. He worried they were walking into a trap and didn’t want Benson sneaking up on them. After notifying Raven and Darren, Chelsey pocketed the phone.

“Lambert and Aguilar are on the way. Darren and your sister will stay at the gym, in case Benson gets past us.”

“So what now? Do we sit and wait until the deputies arrive?”

Chelsey brushed a weed off her jacket.

“Benson might flee before they arrive. I say we check out the house, make sure he’s inside.”

“Lambert and Aguilar won’t be happy.”

“Are you suggesting we stand down?”

“Hell, no. That punk threatened my sister. I say we take Benson down before we lose him.”

Chelsey raised an eyebrow.

“I can trust you to keep your cool?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Then we go in quiet and careful. Follow my lead.”

Chelsey sprinted out of hiding. LeVar stayed on her heels, tension coursing through his blood. When they reached the yard, Chelsey placed a finger to her lips and moved along the outer walls toward the back of the house. She could have broken through the front door with the lock picks. But they already knew Benson had kicked through the back door during his previous visit.

Moonlight shone through the kitchen window. The busted door stood open a crack, the jamb warped and in need of replacement. Chelsey removed her gun and set herself in a shooter’s stance as LeVar climbed the three rickety steps to the back door. The second step groaned. In the silent night, it sounded like a lion’s roar. He glanced back at Chelsey. The warning in her eyes told him to step away.

He slid into the darkness and waited. If Benson had heard, he hadn’t shown his face. After a minute passed, LeVar tried again, this time avoiding the steps by leaping from the ground to the stoop. He landed softly on his feet, the rickety stoop trembling beneath his weight. Even Chelsey appeared impressed as he moved his hand to the door and edged it open. Chelsey lunged inside with the gun raised. A bus ticket lay on the counter. LeVar glanced at the travel details—first stop: Detroit—and lifted his thumb at Chelsey. He was tempted to pocket the ticket and steal Benson’s means of escape. But Chelsey had already crossed the kitchen and thrown her back against the wall.

LeVar joined her at the threshold before she cleared the hallway. It was too dark to see into the living room. LeVar swallowed, every muscle, every nerve twitching and ready for war. He’d busted into rivals’ buildings and homes as