Page 12 of Blood Moon

“Nobody. I don’t need a partner to investigate the dirty words spray-painted on Walmart’s restroom walls.”

“John,” his friend sighed.

“No, no. It was an interesting case of vandalism. All the obscenities were misspelled.”

Mitch didn’t look amused. “You should have left when I did.”

“I didn’t get an offer from the DEA.”

“Would you have taken it?”

John said nothing.

Mitch sighed. “John, why do you stay? What’s keeping you from telling Barker to go fuck himself and leaving?”

“The paycheck.” He glanced around his living room. It had been shabby in the 1950s. Today it bordered on derelict. “I’d have to give up living in the lap of luxury.”

“Yeah, this house is swell, the bayou in your backyard is a petri dish for creatures that bite and sting and poison.” Mitch gave him a sympathetic smile and shook his head remorsefully. “You gotta get over that case, John. Move back into town. Moveon.”

“One day, maybe.”

Mitch held his gaze a moment longer, then indicated Mutt. “When did he move in?”

“A few months back.”

“As a watchdog, he’s useless.”

John regarded Mutt fondly. “Yeah, but at least he’s got pedigree and good looks.”

Mitch chuckled, then slapped his knees and stood up. “I gotta get home and explain to Angela how I got the bruise on my abs.”

“Give her a hug for me.”

“Like hell I will.” He headed toward the door. “You gonna see her again?”

John knew he was no longer referring to Angela, but he played dumb. “Who?”

Mitch looked back at him and laughed. “She was cute.”

“She was. Just not my type.”

Mitch laughed harder.

“Anyhow, she was too young for me.”

“You doth protest too much, my friend. Did you at least get her digits?”

“I didn’t even get her name. If I did, I don’t remember it,” he lied. “I told you, the encounter was—”

“Totally random. Right, right,” Mitch said, still grinning. “Don’t turn any lights on till I’m long gone. I can’t be seen sneaking out of a cop’s house. Take care of you.”

“Same.”

They fist bumped, then Mitch slipped through the door and melded into the misty darkness so easily he didn’t even disturb the wispy Spanish moss hanging from the lower tree branches. John locked the door and made certain that it was also bolted. He let Mutt out the back door in the kitchen. “You’ve got two minutes. But no pressure.”

John walked back into the living room to turn off the TV but was brought up short by what was on the screen. It was a photograph of a full orange moon that shone like a gold coin in a deep purple sky. The weatherman appeared to be waxing eloquent about it. At the bottom of the screen was superimposed:A blood moon.

Beth’s phone call was answered with a grunt of displeasure. “It’s an hour later here, you know.”

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