Page 2 of Blood Moon
Bobby looked down at his shirt. “What? This old thing? Bug, you could hardly call this a uniform.”
I glared at him, exhaling through my nostrils. “Please, with the name,” I said, moving one of the empty containers near me. “It’s just—it’s going to be extremely difficult for me to make a path of my own if you show up letting everyone know that you’re a local sheriff.”
“You know, Bug, one of these days, you’re gonna love that about me.”
Today was not that day, and I was sure it would come back to haunt me.
CHAPTER2
Once you invite the monster in, it doesn’t rest.
Article IV, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
Lakeland University was located almost an hour away from Kansas City. By county lines, it was still in Timber Plains, but right on the outskirts of it, next to a large lake that curved on the edge of the campus.
The university had a little over 700 acres of land—most of that consisting of a wild forest that snaked past the water and crowded the edges of the dormitories. A school map marked a few hiking trails and even a small stream that ran alongside one of them.
It had been a while since I’d been on campus grounds. I’d been to a few games at O’Porter Stadium, but I’d never gone on an official tour of the school. However, as we drove along the winding road that stretched across the east side of campus, I admired how beautiful all of it truly was.
Lakeland was well cared for, with its green vastness, mature trees, and its historic limestone buildings that stood tall and admirable against the earth. There was a bronze statue of the founder with a wolf at his feet on the east side. It resided on the hillside, overseeing the university.
A flock of birds flew against the bright blue sky, squirrels jumped between branches, and there was a feeling that surfaced, an exhale of air that told me I’d made the right decision by choosing to come here.
Yard signs with arrows on them lined the main road, pointing west toward the freshman dormitories. In the front yards of the dormitories were blue tents with banners that read “check in” beneath them.
Bobby stopped his truck by one of the tents before he parked. He wanted me to get in line while he waited for a spot up close to my dorm. I could already hear his mantra,“work smarter not harder.”
Parents and first-time students stood in a near dizzying range of emotions before me. Some of them tried to fan themselves off from the unforgiving heat while we waited, others took pictures or recorded a video diary of each waking moment. But all of us were slumped shoulders and dewed faces in this weather. Thankfully, someone handed out bottles of water.
A few feet ahead, a mom cried into her phone while her daughter’s cheeks flushed bright red, patting her mother’s back with a limp hand. Presumably, she didn’t want anyone to know they were related, though the two were identical with only a twenty-some year difference.
Even further ahead, a family of five sported matching shirts and shorts to celebrate the move-in of their twin daughters. The sight made me twitch a little. Not because I had an aversion to their matching clothes, but because I wondered what it was like to have a large, supporting family. Two stable parents. Siblings. The idea seemed like a fever dream. So perfectly tied in a bow. So completely out of reach.
Though college wasn’t in the original plan I’d had for myself, I was looking forward to it now. I’d never been away from home for more than a week, too afraid that my absence would cause Bobby to spiral. Not that he was much of a spiraler—he kept his shirts tucked in his jeans, a belt around his waist—but the month after Rena left, he’d let his guard down. Lost control theorizing where she could have gone and measuring out the possibilities of whether she’d be found dead or alive.
He didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Didn’t clean. I saw his room once. The walls were plastered with papers he’d printed, cases he’d worked on, and photos of people with question marks off to the sides of them. An illustration of a phase of the moon was there. Multiple victims who’d been mauled were there, too. A single red thread connected them together, but I never had the chance to find out how. His friends from the department came to our home and sat him down in the living room.
“Enough is enough,” I’d overheard one of them say.
Bobby took everything down after that. They watched him file the documents into folders and place them into a cardboard box. I looked for the box but never found it. It was almost unnatural how soon Bobby went back to being his usual self.
Here and there, I’d see him crack. Maybe after watching the news or a long day in the field. But I never saw him split open again as he had years back. There was a thread tying him together, and I wondered how tight the knots had to be before he came toppling over.
So, while I craved adventure and independence, there was this reminder inside me, pulling at the pit of my navel, telling me not to be away from him for too long. He needed me.
After some time, Bobby joined me in the line that was now moving again. We were one away from the front. A smile stuck to my father’s face while he pointed his thumb behind him. He’d found a parking spot that was right next to the sidewalk, leading into Hester Hall. “You see that, Bug?”
I nodded, looked away. “Yup. Smarter not harder,” I said, mumbling the words before he had the chance to say them.
He nudged me and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me in. “I’ve taught you well.”
My first thought was to flee from the affection. It was overwhelming, even from Bobby.
Any bit of physical love, my body rejected. A side effect that came post-Rena. Instead, I squirmed a little, but I let the hug happen. He was already beginning to miss me.
“Good ol’ Bobby Boy!” a faculty member said. He had dark brown skin and a charming smile, but he was older, probably about Bobby’s age, with peppered hair growing in on the sides of his head. There was familiarity there, but I couldn’t place why.
“Duke!” Bobby said. “It’s been, what, ten years? Maybe more since I saw you last. How the hell are you?”
