Page 58 of Blood Moon

“And protect your own butt in the process.”

“You’re damn right. I’m nothing if not self-serving. I’ve never pretended to be otherwise. But the more I pushed you, the harder you pushed back. In the end, you were willing to risk your job and reputation on this theory that the next blood moon is going to spell doomsday for some young woman.”

“What if nothing happens and I’m proven wrong?”

“What’s the harm? You may eat some crow, but only in front of me, and I won’t tell. We’ll sell Brady on the lie about your vacation with old friends, and he’ll be none the wiser. Not that he’s all that wise to start with,” he added under his breath.

“You’re not taking John Bowie into account,” she said softly. “Whether I’m right or wrong, he’s already suffered severe consequences because of my meddling.”

“True. By busting his boss’s nose, he’s probably screwed his future in that police department, but if he has as much grit as you’ve implied, he’ll land on his feet.”

“I hope you’re right.”

After a thoughtful moment, he said, “I should have paid more attention to his disgruntlement back when we started considering that case as an episode.”

“Is this another manipulation?”

“No. I swear on my next cigarette. I think I missed an opportunity. If I’d contacted Bowie myself, and handled him right, he—”

“Handled him right? We could have sold tickets to see you try.”

He barked a laugh, coughed, and spat. “Well, if I’d gotten him to open up, we’d have had another story with a different ending.”

So would John, she thought. Perhaps a happier one.

Max took a few gravelly breaths. “Just how mad at me are you?”

“I want to be, but how can I be? Your maneuvering got me here. I’m mad at myself for not seeing through your bluff.”

“Cut yourself some slack. I’m an unprincipled, cagey son of a bitch with decades of conning to my credit.” Then in all seriousness, he said, “You’ve got the makings of a great story here. Tom Barker, asshole extraordinaire, whose malfeasances need to be exposed. Bowie, the dour, reluctant hero with integrity. Plus a blood moon and the spookiness that conjures. Jesus, gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.”

“The blood moon or the story?”

“The Emmy. Get it for me, Beth.”

Chapter 16

John heard the bedroom door opening behind him. He turned in his chair at the folding table, now serving as their shared desk. “How’d it go?”

As she was walking over, Beth absently gathered her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a stretchy band. She sat down in the chair beside him. “It was interesting.”

“That’s an interesting adjective.”

“He knocked me for a loop.” She recounted her conversation with Max Longren and ended on a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve witnessed important, powerful people conclude a meeting with him, naïvely unaware of how craftily they’d been manipulated. I can’t believe he used his reverse psychology on me, and that I fell for it.”

“Are you mad at him?”

“He asked me that.”

“And?”

“Last night he told me to pack up and return to NewYork ASAP, like he was issuing me an order. It made me even more determined to stay and see this through.”

“Is that a good thing, or bad?”

“It’s a wait-and-see.”

She’d said it casually, almost flippantly, but, in the following moments, the statement changed tenor and took on importance. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, but their heads were turned to each other.Closeto each other.

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