The Killing Moon Dan Padavona (world of reading .TXT) 📖

weed and turn to something harder. Wouldn’t shock me if he stuck a needle in his arm.”

“Why are you saying this? He’s our son.” The husband shook his head and looked away. Thomas made a mental note—Cole was the only parent who referred to Derek in the past tense. Tamara’s focus swung to Thomas. “Are you saying someone hurt my boy?”

“He was stabbed, ma’am.”

Tamara’s mouth fell open. She covered it as the blood drained from her face.

“Stabbed?”

“Drugs,” Cole muttered from the side of his mouth. “Just like I said.”

“Why do you say that, Mr. Jordan?” Presley asked.

“Why else was he down at the train tracks after midnight? Bet he met some dealer.”

Tamara buried her face in her hands. After the woman composed herself, Thomas handed her a pen and a sheet of paper.

“Mrs. Jordan, please write the names of your son’s friends.”

After she finished, Tamara Jordan handed the sheet to Thomas. He scanned through the names, all boys, and remembered thinking Derek was a good looking kid.

“Did your son have a girlfriend?”

Cole tutted and turned his head away as Tamara wrung her hands.

“He spends a lot of time with Valerie Leonard.”

“Valerie Leonard,” Thomas repeated, jotting the name down.

“I don’t think they’re going together. But Derek talks about her all the time.”

Thomas and Presley spent another fifteen minutes asking Derek Jordan’s parents about his relations. Cole remained aloof and despondent, while Tamara claimed nobody would hurt her son. On their way out of the house, Thomas stopped beside his cruiser as Presley dug her hands inside her pockets.

“The husband didn’t seem upset,” Presley said, casting a glance at the house.

“Find out what you can about Cole Jordan.”

“What about Leland Trivett and the drug references? Cole is right about one thing. The Barton Falls railroad tracks are no place to be after dark. Not unless you’re dealing or buying. Maybe a drug deal gone bad?”

Thomas bit his lip. The drug angle seemed too easy. But Tamara Jordan’s assertion that nobody wanted to hurt her son didn’t hold water.

It was time to look into Derek’s friends. Somebody hated Derek enough to stab him seven times.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

October 31st

11:35 a.m.

LeVar was running late.

As he followed the lake road back to the house, his lips moved, reciting the notes he’d memorized during class. His professor was a stout woman with a firm jaw and a no-nonsense attitude. She’d spent thirty years on the force between the Rochester and Syracuse Police Departments, and she demanded perfection. If LeVar wanted to ace her class, he’d need to study more and spend less time investigating cases with Darren, Scout, and Raven.

He sprinted past the sheriff’s A-Frame and unlocked the guest house. With only fifteen minutes to complete his tasks, he rushed inside, changed into his work clothes, and ran the water until the sink filled with dish bubbles. Scout clicked away on the computer, intent on tracking Violet Lyon, while he washed and rinsed the breakfast dishes. Then he whipped the refrigerator open and built a salami sandwich in record time.

He gathered his knapsack and jogged toward his black Chrysler Limited before he realized he’d forgotten the keys inside the guest house. Thank goodness Scout was inside. As he raised his fist to bang on the door, she opened the door and dangled the keys in front of him.

“Forget something?”

“You’re a lifesaver, Scout.”

“Vamoose. You’ll be late for work. I’ll have the case solved by the time you return.”

LeVar winked and raced up the yard, passing the sheriff’s A-Frame. His phone rang. He would have let the caller go to voice-mail had he not read Thomas’s name on the screen.

“Shep Dawg. You’re lucky you caught me. I’m leaving for work right now.”

“Hey, LeVar. I’d hate to do this to you, but I’m stuck on the road for the rest of today and won’t be home until…well, whenever. I need someone to take Jack outside and make sure he’s fed this afternoon.”

LeVar set the bag beside his car and moaned. He looked back at the house. Jack pawed at the window, tongue hanging out as he vied for LeVar’s attention.

“I gotta be at the office by noon.”

“I’m sorry, LeVar. Please, I don’t want Jack stuck inside all afternoon. He hasn’t gone out since two in the morning, and you know what that means.” LeVar sure did. Jack would turn the A-Frame into his personal latrine if LeVar didn’t intervene. “I owe you one.”

“Naw, I got you, bro.”

“And LeVar?”

“Yeah?”

“Might be a good idea to look after your sister today. I’m worried about Mark Benson.”

Thomas didn’t need to ask. He’d always have Raven’s back. The problem was he’d stretched himself thin between school, the private investigation job, and watching the sheriff’s house. He no longer had time for Ruth Sims and the Broken Yolk. But he couldn’t quit now, not with business booming. Ruth offered him a job when nobody else would. He’d break her heart if he turned his back on the cafe.

Ignoring the time, LeVar unlocked the house. Jack bounded through the door and ran circles around the front yard, barking. The dog wanted to play.

“No time for fetch, Jack. Do your thing before Chelsey has my hide.”

Jack raced around the house to the backyard and did his business. LeVar was about to let him inside when a different idea occurred to him.

“Hey, boy. How would you like to spend the afternoon with Scout?” Jack grinned and strutted toward the Mourning’s house. Damn, the dog was smart. “The guest house, Jack.”

Scout was already at the door to welcome Jack inside.

“I might not make it back to feed Jack later. Would you mind?” LeVar slapped his forehead. “Shoot. How will you get his food? The bag weighs thirty pounds.”

“Our mothers are hanging out together after lunch. I’ll have someone grab the Jack’s food and water bowl.”

“Good thinking.”

His mother was spending the day with Naomi? That was news to LeVar.

“Now go, before Chelsey plays the role of the Halloween Man on your sorry behind.”

The drive into the village was a