Page 145 of Blue Moon

“It’s not the kind of thing you talk about, is it?” Except Lorelle seemed to be happy enough gossiping. “Although the drinking really wasn’t Candy’s fault. She didn’t have health insurance, and alcohol was cheaper than medication.”

“She was on disability, wasn’t she?”

“Arthritis is a terrible disease, especially in someone so young. She was only nineteen when Anton arrived. Not much more than a child herself. She used to live over near my friend Susan, and I remember the day she brought him home from the hospital. A new baby should bring such joy, but Candy was crying when she carried him into the house. We all tried to help, of course—found her a crib, a stroller, baby clothes, that sort of thing—but she just wasn’t very maternal. That’s probably why she sent Anton to live with his aunt for so many years.”

Aunt? What aunt? Nothing in the research had suggested Candice Hebert had a sister.

“Maybe his aunt would have a current address? I don’t suppose she lives around here?”

“Now, that I don’t know. I can’t even recall her name. She was down in Elk River. Candy moved there for a while—six months, a year? She slunk back here with her tail between her legs after her latest mistake went to jail.” Lorelle glanced behind her as if somebody might be eavesdropping. “Murder,” she whispered. “It was murder.”

“Candy’s boyfriend was a killer?”

“Clyde something-or-other. They called him the Saint Cloud Snatcher. Took his victims right off the street, so I heard. Candy always did have terrible judgment. Anyhow, Anton stayed behind in Elk River. It was the kindest thing she could have done for him—Candy struggled to look after herself, let alone a child, and she said he got a better education down there. Which I’m sure was true because Kayden Ronson was in his class here, and he was bad news, God rest his soul,” she added as an afterthought. “Although I don’t suppose there’s much chance Kayden ended up with the big man.”

“Kayden Ronson wasn’t an upstanding citizen?”

“He was a bully, a dirty bully, but karma got him in the end. Don’t tell his momma I said that—she didn’t deserve a son like Kayden. No, it was his father, let the boy get away with everything.”

“I doubt I’ll run into Kayden’s momma.”

“Maybe you will. She works in a diner on Broadway Street, over near City Hall. Cycles there every morning. She used to drive, but it was global warming that killed Kayden, so now she looks down on anyone who owns one of those gas guzzlers. You’ll want to hide your vehicle on the far side of the parking lot or she’ll short-change you when it comes to your pie. I’d recommend the maple pecan or cinnamon apple.”

Ryder glanced back at the cherry-red Hyundai he’d rented at the airport. It was actually a hybrid and surprisingly good on gas.

“How does a man die from global warming?”

A flash flood? A freak tornado? Bad sunburn?

“Nobody ever saw a timber rattlesnake this far north before. Crawled right into the house through the cat flap. Marla Danes told me hotter temperatures made them change their territory, and she should know because her son’s a police officer and they got one of them hematologists in to help with the case.”

Presumably she meant a herpetologist, but the rest of the words sent Ryder’s mind into a tailspin. The similarity between the deaths of Kayden Ronson and Julius Whitlow was too much to be a coincidence. Had Hebert taken inspiration from Kayden’s demise? Or had he used it as a trial run?

And this aunt… Had he seen her as a mother figure? Was she the woman whose funeral he’d attended a year ago?

“The death of anyone before their time is a tragedy. If I leave my number, would you call me if you remember the name of Anton’s aunt?”

“I sure will, hun.” Lorelle patted Ryder on the cheek. “If only I were twenty years younger.”

Ryder forced a smile. He had a partial lead, but they weren’t getting information fast enough. Back in Vegas, he’d overheard Tulsa talking to Dice about kidnapping statistics, and with every second that passed, the chances of getting Luna back grew slimmer. At least Emmy was staying positive. She thought Luna was still alive.

“Thank you for your time, Lorelle.”

41

EMMY

In the passenger seat, Slater studied the file Echo had sent on Brianna Shelton, Anton Hebert’s ex, while I focused on getting us to our destination as fast as possible. Easier said than done when the only rental vehicle left at the airport was a Fiat 500 that had been built for economy rather than speed. Stan, the Spanish stallion who lived at the estate I shared with Black in Virginia, would beat it on horsepower.

“Thoughts?” I asked.

“She’s pretty hot.”

“We’re on the clock here. You don’t have time to hook up with a woman, and you especially don’t have time to hook up with a witness.”

“I’m just saying that Hebert was punching above his weight, that’s all.”

“You know that sometimes women go for personality?”

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