Page 134 of Blue Moon

“One year ago. That’s what he told Romeo. He took time off to go to the funeral.”

“Nuh-uh. Four and a half years ago. The Minnesota Department of Health doesn’t lie. Well, it does sometimes, but you really need to know your way around the system to make it do that.”

“He knows about computers,” Tulsa reminded her. “He sabotaged the security system at the Nile Palace.”

“Oh, please. He shoulder-surfed for an admin password and changed one setting.”

“Could he have two moms?” I asked. “Did his biological mom have a female partner?”

“No mention of that, but there’s no father listed on Hebert’s birth certificate.”

“What happened to Candice Hebert’s property?”

“I’ll look into that.”

And I’d ask Dan to dig around too, once she’d finished with the vehicle. The Mark Antony thing had clearly been festering in Anton Hebert’s psyche for a while. Maybe even back to his childhood?

I was about to call her when Tulsa’s phone rang. She listened for a moment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No, we’re on our way.”

“What happened?”

“Hebert just called Jiminez. He says he left the kid at the Wonder Burger near Woodlawn Cemetery.”

37

LUNA

All night, I’d been trying to convince myself that things would be okay. That I could survive this. But at the sound of a car crunching on gravel outside, my bowels turned watery. Kacie bit her lip, and Michelle muttered, “Here comes the psycho.”

We were sitting in the living area, waiting, and I had to concede that there were worse prisons. I mean, probably. It wasn’t as if I’d ever been in one, but I had stayed in worse hotel rooms. This place had comfy couches, a TV but no Netflix, a huge shelf of super boring books, and a coffee machine. The closet was full of not-entirely-ugly dresses and strappy leather sandals, woollen shawls and basic cotton panties. I mean, at least he expected me to put on underwear. That had to be a good thing, right?

And we’d come up with a plan. Well, I’d come up with a plan, and Michelle told me it was dumb and would never work. I didn’t like her much. Kacie had shrugged and said that maybe it would work.

I still wasn’t sure about Kacie. She tried to be friendly, and she was nervous as heck, but when Michelle was complaining that the sandwiches Mark Antony had left for us were too dry, Kacie had told her to be quiet because at least we didn’t need to find the money to buy groceries here. What was that thing hostages got when they felt weirdly okay about their captors? Copenhagen syndrome?

Footsteps sounded outside the door.

A key rattled in the lock.

Rocky must have sensed my fear because he positioned himself in front of me, and a low growl rumbled from his throat.

“It’s okay, boy. It’ll be okay.”

Ryder would rescue us.

He would.

The door opened.

And I got my first look at Mark Antony.

Or was it?

There was something vaguely familiar about him. I was seventy percent sure I’d seen him somewhere before, but I was eighty percent certain he hadn’t been in the horde of paparazzi who’d been following me around Vegas recently. I’d paid special attention to those jerks after Ryder voiced his suspicions.

Michelle had been right about his size. He was big, maybe even bigger than Ryder. Tall, dark, and average looking. Maybe better than average. Which made this abduction even more baffling—he wasn’t some hideous loser a woman would automatically swipe left on. He was clean-shaven, his hair neatly trimmed.

---