Page 35 of Blood Moon

“True,” she said thoughtfully. “But why track mine? It would have been easier to track yours.”

“Oh, I’m sure they tried that first. They would have found it in the bottom drawer of my desk where it’s kept on perpetual charge. That’s the number they have. But that phone routes my calls to this one,” he said, fishing one from his pants pocket. “It’s a burner, they don’t have this number, and I get a replacement for it every few weeks.”

“You go to a lot of trouble not to be located.”

“I do, yeah.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He rested his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned toward her. “This is going to sound paranoid, but it’s the part you must understand. The ogre wasn’t paying us a social call.”

Chapter 9

Well?”

Tom’s voice was strained, but he kept his volume down as he answered the call he’d been expecting. His wife was in the kitchen, humming as she set the table. He’d stayed late at the office, she’d fed the kids and had sent them upstairs for baths and homework. She was happy over the prospect of having a quiet supper, just the two of them.

By contrast, Tom was seething. After having been dispatched hours earlier, Frank Gray was only now reporting in. “What’s taken so long?”

“Driving all the way out there, for one thing. Jesus. I got lost twice even with GPS. Thought I was never gonna find it.”

“Okay, okay. And?”

“They weren’t there.”

Tom felt like he’d been hit by a two-by-four. “Say again.”

“What part didn’t you get? They weren’t there. Anotherreason I delayed calling you was because there was nothing to tell.”

“How could she not be there?” Tom asked, his voice rising an octave. “Her phone is there.”

“Well, it might be, but she wasn’t, and neither was he. Which was weird because his car was in front. That’s how I knew which house was his. There are several tucked into a cul-de-sac. His is at the end of it, kinda sitting off by itself. Not a sign of life anywhere near it.”

“Christ, Frank, if his car is there, they—”

“Honey?” The whiny voice came from the kitchen.

“Shit. Hold on.” Tom held the phone against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m on the phone.”

“Don’t let it get cold.”

“I’m about to wind up.” He put the phone back to his ear. “They’ve gotta be there.”

“I’m telling you, they weren’t.”

“Just by driving past, how could you tell?”

Frank gave a long-suffering sigh. “I overshot the turnoff. Pulled over and found a spot to leave my car where it wouldn’t be too conspicuous, went back to the cul-de-sac on foot. But which house was his?

“I had to walk the length of the street before I saw his car. A few of the neighbors had lights on, but none were on inside his house, and it’s dark as freaking pitch out there. I looked in the rear window of his car and saw a suitcase in the hatch. Maybe her phone’s in it.”

“You could’ve called it to find out.”

“Bad idea, Tom. If Bowie and the woman were in there with the lights out, doing what I suspect this is about, he could’ve heard her phone ringing, come out to check, seen me sneaking around his car, and shot me for trespassing. Palace doctrine or whatever it’s called.”

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