Page 154 of Blue Moon

“Now, tell me why I should give you people a thing.”

Clyde Ganser, also known as the Saint Cloud Snatcher, leaned back in his seat on the other side of the glass, arms folded and a smug smile on his pockmarked face. The scar curving across his cheek looked new. He wore an orange T-shirt with tattooed biceps bulging in the too-tight sleeves, and the tattoos carried on to his wrists, a patchwork of ships and sea monsters and bare-breasted mermaids done by a second-rate artist. One meaty hand pressed an old-fashioned phone handset to his ear, a twin of the ones Dan and Ryder held.

Dan leaned forward an inch. “Tell us why you shouldn’t.”

Before they walked into the Oak Park Heights correctional facility on Tuesday morning, they’d agreed that Dan would be bad cop, although she couldn’t be a real bitch because they didn’t have much to bargain with. Only two things. They could add money to Clyde Ganser’s commissary account, or in light of the circumstances and because he had a daughter himself, the warden had offered an extra hour per day in the yard for a total of five days, should Ganser give any valuable information. Pale had pulled strings to arrange the visit, but it had taken time they didn’t have. Ryder had barely slept last night.

“Because if you don’t talk to us, you can go back to your cell and talk to the wall.”

Ganser had been moved to the Super-Seg section of the jail after assaulting two fellow inmates. He didn’t play nicely with others, although he’d done a reasonable job of pretending in his younger years.

Then justice had caught up with him. His fifth victim had escaped, and they’d found the first four at a remote hunting cabin, battered, bruised, and strangled. He’d told the cops that Candy was still alive because she made a great mac and cheese as well as a good cover story. Nobody had suspected that the quiet truck driver who lived with his girlfriend and her teenage son was actually a serial killer.

Was it any wonder Anton Hebert had turned out the way he did?

Curiosity got the better of Ganser. “Who are you, anyway?”

Time for good cop. “We’re private investigators. I’m Ryder, and this is Daniela.”

“If this is about that Marigold girl, I already said it wasn’t me.”

“This isn’t about a girl at all. It’s about a boy.”

Ganser looked surprised. Horrified, even. “Naw, man. No way. I ain’t one of those homosexuals.”

“I know, buddy. It’s nothing like that. You dated his momma for a while, and we’re trying to find him.”

For a moment, Ganser looked puzzled. Then his expression cleared. “Ah, you mean the little misfit? Candy’s kid?”

“Why do you call him a misfit?”

“Every other teenage boy in Elk River spent his spare time chasing girls or hunting.” He gave a sickening grin. “Some of us grew up and combined the two. But Ant, he always had his nose stuck in a book. Go on, what did he do?”

“Why do you think he did anything?”

“Because I haven’t seen that kid in more than a decade, so if you’ve come to talk to me, whatever it is must be big.”

Dan took over. “The reason we’re here isn’t important, Clyde.”

“It is if you want the information I have.”

“We haven’t yet established whether you have any relevant information. As you said, you’re a long shot.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a snitch.”

Dan held his gaze for ten long seconds. Then she dropped her phone and pushed back her chair.

“Too bad.”

Ryder stared after her for a second before he rose to follow, hoping to fuck that she knew what she was doing.

“Wait!” Ganser shouted into the phone, loud enough to be heard through the glass.

Ryder sat down again. When Dan turned, she didn’t mirror Ganser’s smug expression. No, she just gave a nonchalant shrug. She was taking the lead here because she had more experience at interviewing difficult witnesses, including high-security prisoners, despite a tiny blip where she’d ended up dating one of them.

“Have you changed your mind about snitching? Or do you just want to tell me my ass looks great in these pants? Because the second one, I already know.”

“Depends. I ain’t tellin’ tales on my friends. But the kid… I don’t owe him nothin’. Things weren’t even that serious between me and Candy. How old is he now? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

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