Page 109 of Blood Moon

“I’m staying at the cabin, and I can take care of myself.”

“What about Beth?”

“She… she’s made of stern stuff, but, yeah, I’m worried about her safety, too. So you can understand why you’re better off with your mom until this blows over. All right?”

After a long silence, she mumbled, “All right.”

“The best you can do for me is to go home. Go to dinner with them and be pleasant. That’ll get Roslyn off your back.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“Life’s not easy, sweetheart. Nothing about it is easy. Now, got the credit card?”

“Yes.”

“Summon the car. Be sure and take a picture of the driver’s ID and text it to me.”

“Daaad.”

“Just do it. And don’t forget to keep checking behind you. Also, text me as soon as you get home and are inside the house. Keep watchful. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Molly, the only reason I’m turning you down about coming to me is because I love you so much.”

“I know, Dad. I know. I love you, too.”

Chapter 30

Carla had been in a high snit ever since her unwelcome visitors had left the clinic. She’d snapped at patients as they’d filled out admission forms, asking the inevitable dozens of questions. She’d been short with coworkers, even the one who’d covered the desk for her while she was fending off Detective Bowie’s bothersome questions.

Now, on her way home from work, she had been stopped at a railroad crossing for a freight train that had to be the longest in railroad history. As she watched the cars roll past at a snail’s pace, she cursed that damned TV show. Its broadcast tomorrow night was going to resurrect the rabid curiosity over Crissy’s disappearance that had lingered like a stench for months following it.

The crime itself, along with her outspokenness against the police department’s failure to solve it, had given her a celebrity status she’d neither anticipated nor desired. After several months of dodging reporters and curious stares, she’d changed jobs and moved away from the mobile home parkwhere memorials left for Crissy had turned into a soggy, unsightly trash heap. Her goal had been to escape the public eye, fade into obscurity, and eventually attain anonymity.

Now thatCrisis Pointepisode would stir it all up, and she would become an object of curiosity and speculation again. She could kick herself for agreeing to give an interview. But she had, and she couldn’t undo it.

Even Beth Collins, who was one of their own, had said her attempts to halt its airing had been in vain. Of course, her concern was the episode’s inaccuracy and how it was going to ruin careers and trash reputations.

Well, good. Carla didn’t give a fig. Let it besmear Max Longren’s legacy. Let it—

She slammed on the brakes at that thought. She rewound and replayed what had just occurred to her, and by the time the caboose rattled across her field of vision, she had concocted a plan for retribution that would serve them all right.

As soon as she crossed the railroad tracks, she pulled onto the shoulder of the road and reached for her phone.

An inch of bourbon was in the glass John carried over to the table where Beth sat leaning forward from the seat of her chair, staring into the monitor of her laptop. He set the glass down on the table. “Take a sip.”

“What are we drinking to?”

“Molly’s getting home safely.”

“All well?”

“Except for having to go to dinner with the stupid loser. If the wordstepdadis spoken, she can’t promise not to gag.”

Beth smiled at that and took a sip of whiskey. “Hmm, nice. Thanks.”

She handed the whiskey back to him, and he used the glass to motion toward her monitor. The audio had been muted, so he couldn’t hear what the suave narrator ofCrisis Pointwas saying. “Is that the episode? I haven’t gotten around to watching it yet.”

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