Page 157 of Blue Moon

He’d avoided saying the words out loud, but he couldn’t deny the truth. “Yes, I do.”

“So, uh, if you want to wait, I could take a look for the paperwork. My husband keeps everything in the study.”

The clock was ticking. Luna was strong, but was she strong enough?

“We’ll wait.”

44

EMMY

“He’s not here,” Carole-Ann Murray said as she tried to wrestle a box containing a flat-packed rocking chair out of the back of a Ford Taurus. “I haven’t seen Anton in six months, but he pays the rent on time, and that’s the only thing I care about.”

And that rent wasn’t cheap. The house in La Loma Park had to be worth two mil, although if Dan’s theory about the ownership was correct, he wasn’t paying any rent at all. A company owned the property—Omnia Inc., according to property records one of Blackwood’s interns had just checked at the clerk-recorder’s office—and Julia No-Surname had probably been the shareholder at some point. Her identity might be obfuscated by layers of legalese, but one thing was certain—she hadn’t been short of a few bob.

The rocking chair slipped, and Slater leapt forward to help.

“Let me take that, ma’am.”

“Oh, I, uh…”

“Where do you want me to put it?”

“It’s for the conservatory, but you don’t have to?—”

“Just point me in the right direction.”

Carole-Ann was a willowy brunette with features that were cute rather than beautiful. Dimples. A ski-jump nose. Round amber eyes. A boy watched us from the doorway ten yards away, one fist curled around the doorjamb.

“Mom, can you help with my Legos?”

“Not now, okay?”

“Could you show me where the conservatory is, buddy? How about we build your mom a chair?”

Nice. I’d brought Slater with the intention that he might charm Carole-Ann, but if someone had to occupy the kid, rather him than me. Plus if he could field strip and reassemble an AR-15 in under thirty seconds—twenty-nine and a half was his record—then he could build a bloody rocking chair.

“I don’t know if that’s—” Carole-Ann started.

“Let’s have a chat.”

The front hallway was bright and airy, double height with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I spotted a living room to the left and steered her in that direction. The place was homier than it looked from the outside, with overstuffed couches and a wide coffee table filled with kids’ books and a half-built Lego spaceship.

“You can’t just walk in here and?—”

“If it’s not us, it’s going to be the police.” That shut her up. “Your choice.”

“What did he do, steal your stuff? I’m sorry you had a bad breakup—believe me, I’ve been there—but I can’t help you. Like I said, he pays our rent.”

And she didn’t want to risk him kicking her out. She’d also read Brianna’s email if she thought I was Hebert’s ex.

“There was no breakup. In fact, I’ve never even met Anton. I’m a private investigator from Virginia, and I’m looking for the woman he abducted four days ago in Las Vegas.”

Carole-Ann gasped. “Are you crazy? Anton would never do that. I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs, but he isn’t a criminal.”

“We don’t believe he had any ill intent, but he isn’t well.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She already knew he wasn’t well.

---