Page 18 of Blood Moon

On every thoroughfare between the mobile home park in Auclair and the New Orleans airport, traffic was heavy and belligerent, adding an extra fifteen minutes to the hour and a half drive. Beth was frazzled by the time she had returned the rental car and made her way to the ticket counter.

She’d fibbed to Max in a text, telling him that she’d stood by for the morning flight but had been unable to get a seat. She was confirmed on the four o’clock. He hadn’t bothered sending a return text, but he’d viewed her trip as a fool’s errand and would be happy that she was on her way back.

But she wasn’t happy, damn it. She decided to give it one last try. She moved out of the flow of the airport foot traffic and called the police station again. She was relieved thatthis time a male voice answered, reducing the chance that her repeat calls would be noted. She asked for John Bowie and was put on hold.

When the officer came back on the line, he informed her that Bowie had been there, but had left. “Couple of hours ago, they said. Maybe longer.” Nobody knew if or when he’d be back before the day was out. Did she want to leave him a message?

“No, thank you,” she said into her phone. Disconnecting, she thought,Take it as a sign. It wasn’t meant to be.

She got in the security check line, listlessly tugging her roll-aboard behind her and staring absently at all the cities in which U2 had performed on their world tour. The itinerary was printed on the back of the t-shirt the young woman in line ahead of her was wearing.

“That’s her.”

As did most of the people around her, Beth turned in the direction of the authoritative voice. Her stomach dropped.

John Bowie, looking grim and intimidating, was pointing her out to a TSA agent. “The one in the blue jacket.”

Had he been in an accident? What had happened to his face?

The TSA agent asked those in line to move aside as she made her way forward. When she reached Beth, she said, “Beth Collins?”

Beth dragged her astonished gaze from John Bowie’s unflinching stare to the uniformed woman. “Yes.”

“Would you come with us, please?”

“What for?”

“A police matter. ” Bowie opened the right side of his sport coat so that everyone nearby could see the badgeclipped to his belt.

“Ms. Collins, if you’ll follow me, please.” The TSA agent motioned for Beth to step out of line.

But she stayed where she was, too appalled to move. By now, everyone was gawking at them. Those in line ahead and behind her were craning their necks to get a better view. She shot John Bowie a murderous look. “Why are you doing this?”

He sighed as though put out. “Thank you, Agent Gorman. You’ve been very helpful. I’ll take it from here.”

He reached behind the agent and closed his hand around Beth’s elbow. “This way.” He gave her arm a tug, which she resisted. In a silent threat, he arched an eyebrow and wrestled the handle of her roll-aboard from her grasp.

Damn him! She couldn’t defy him without making a scene.Moreof a scene. If it should get back to Winston Brady that she’d been apprehended… It didn’t bear thinking about.

Resentful and fuming, she went along as the TSA agent opened up narrow avenues in the queue for them to squeeze through. When they were clear of it, Bowie propelled her forward and again thanked Agent Gorman for her assistance.

“You’re welcome, but, if you don’t mind me asking, what did she do?”

Over his shoulder, Bowie replied, “She cut in line.”

Chapter 5

He herded Beth through the exit and toward an SUV she recognized from the beer joint’s parking lot. It was parked at the curb, an airport police officer guarding it.

Bowie opened the passenger door and practically heaved her inside. He shut the door, shook hands with the guard, and thanked him. In back, he opened the hatch and put her roll-aboard inside, then came around and climbed in.

As he started the car, she launched. “You had better have a damn good reason—”

He interrupted. “There was a blood moon the night Crissy Mellin disappeared.”

The sudden statement took her aback, but after a few seconds she bobbed her chin.

“And you think that’s significant?”

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