Page 153 of Blood Moon

“In any case, I did my best to tell the story cleanly, without exploitation, but with enough entertainment value and suspense to keep the viewing audience interested.”

She paused before saying, “There was no way to tell the story without including you, but it’s acknowledged that you had declined to be interviewed. And, just so you know, I left Molly’s name out of it. She’s identified only as a minor whose parents asked that she remain anonymous.”

He was more relieved and touched than he let on. He said simply, “Thank you for that.”

She gave a small nod.

“What’s next on theCrisis Pointlineup?”

“I don’t know. Once the Mellin episode was finished, I resigned.”

That hit him like a right hook he didn’t see coming. He actually recoiled. “Resigned? You left the show?”

“Left the network.”

“What are you doing now?”

She left him in suspense while she took another sip from the straw. “Remember I told you about the minutiae that make a good show a better one?”

“Small things that give it oomph.”

“You do remember.”

“I remember everything.”

That halted her momentarily. When she continued, he could swear her voice was huskier. “I spent years editing pieces under Max’s tutelage, and he was a master. I’m going to shop myself out as a freelance editor. With my credentials,I should be able to support myself, especially with the lower cost of living down here.”

His heart skipped several beats. “Down here?”

“Louisiana has become a big draw for production companies. There’s a lot of work. Since I grew up here, I have a feel for the area, which will be valuable to site locators and cinematographers. No more frigid winters. Sweltering summers, yes, but then I like the heat. I’ll be able to eat gumbo whenever I’m hungry for it, and work at home in my pajamas. Although I plan to rent a small office for appearance’s sake.

“So, you see? There are a lot of advantages to relocating, but the main one is that I’ll be near you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I love you, John Bowie like the knife.”

A fever spread through his entire body. The tops of his ears turned hot. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips.

She scooted forward on the bench, bringing her right up against the edge of the table. “I had to leave you that day. If I hadn’t, if I’d stayed without finishing what I had set out to do, I would always have regretted it.

“You would have sensed my regret, and felt guilty for keeping me from achieving my goal, and the guilt would have caused you to shut down.” She smiled ruefully. “As you’ve done anyway.”

He took a long drink of the tepid beer because his mouth had gone so dry. Returning the bottle to the table, he said, “I haven’t shut down.”

“No? Since you got here, you’ve addressed my chin, my shoulder, my earring, my breasts.”

“Only because your hands were making circles in front of them to illustrate ‘blossomed.’”

“The point is, you haven’t looked directly atme.”

He did then. He looked at her fiercely. Leaning forward, bringing their faces close, he said, “I look at you directly all the fucking time. Daylight or dark, sunny or cloudy, on the job, on days off, in daydreams, in wet dreams, I’m seeing your face, and it’s been maddening, infuriating as hell, and bloody damned torture.”

Her eyes clouded with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you come after me? Why didn’t you at least call me or take my calls?”

“God knows I wanted to.”

“Then…?”

“Because, Beth, from the very start, I didn’t see how it—howwe—could possibly work. You had your career. I had mine to salvage. You had to deal with losing Max. I had to focus on Molly and all that was going on with her even before the abduction. You lived in Manhattan, and I lived in a swamp. I didn’t see any of that changing.”

“But all that has changed,” she argued. “All those blockades you itemized are resolving themselves, or have already been resolved. I’m here, and I’m staying.”

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