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

Valerie smirked as she darted down the rows, the shoes in her hand, the knapsack and bag straps digging into her shoulder. Where was he?

Water plunked against the floor. He must be in the shower.

“Hiding in the girls’ shower, Derek. What did you hope to see, you dirty boy?”

Setting her belongings down, she waited beside the wall, the humidity from the showers breathing around the corner. After counting to three in her head, she leaped out of hiding.

“Boo!”

The showers were empty. Valerie narrowed her eyes and gazed around. Derek had run out of places to hide, and she should have found him by now. After she retrieved her belongings, she rushed to the fire exit. The heavy steel door made a loud bang whenever it shut. She would have heard the door if Derek sneaked out. She paused beside the exit. Something seemed off. Derek should have leaped out of hiding for the final scare. Worry creased her forehead.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she shoved against the exit door. Anything to escape the gloomy locker room, no matter how chilly the weather.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped into the parking lot and spied her stalker. The door locked behind her before she could dive inside.

The Halloween Man leered at her from across the parking lot.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

October 31st

12:00 p.m.

Scout couldn’t take the cold anymore. Shivering, she wheeled the chair to the thermostat and boosted the temperature to seventy degrees. Most days, the sun provided passive solar heat through the guest house’s many windows. The glowering sky smothered any hope for sunlight today as the wind pushed the October chill indoors.

Back at the computer, she bit into a salami sandwich and chewed, staring at the screen. Jack lay on his belly with his head resting on his paws, giving her the sad eye. She tore a piece off her sandwich and tossed it to him. The enormous dog swallowed the treat in one bite and lay his head down again, hoping for another.

“If you eat all day, you’ll turn into Fat Albert.”

Jack whined.

“Fine.”

She threw him the last quarter of her sandwich.

Violet Lyon appeared in multiple forums on the internet, especially websites devoted to horror movies. From her profile pictures and bios, it appeared Violet worshiped John Carpenter, Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper, and the famous horror directors from yesteryear. Though Violet concealed her identity and never posted pictures of herself, she remained active.

Good marketing plan, Scout thought. Violet posted links to her podcast in her bio and answered questions from adoring fans. Which she had many of. Violet’s presence on the horror forums sent hundreds, if not thousands, of visitors to her website. The phone interrupted the investigation. Uh-oh. Mom was checking on her.

“Hey, hon. How are you feeling?”

Scout fake-coughed into her hand.

“A little better.”

“Drinking lots of liquids?”

“I guess so.”

“Stay hydrated, Scout. You don’t want to make yourself sicker. If you’re up and about, will you do me a favor and preheat the oven at one? I’m baking with Ms. Hopkins this afternoon. We’ll be quiet, in case you’re asleep.”

Scout bit her lip. Claiming she was in her bedroom wasn’t an option. It would only get her caught once Mom arrived home.

“Um, I’m actually at LeVar’s place right now.”

A pause.

“You’d better not be working today.”

“Not much. I’ve been resting most of the morning and looking at the lake.”

Which wasn’t a total lie. Sitting in front of a computer wasn’t strenuous work, and the lake relaxed Scout and helped her focus.

“Please, be careful. With LeVar and Thomas at work, there isn’t anyone to watch over you.”

“Mom, it’s not like I’m gonna take a dip in the lake. I’ll be all right.”

“Okay. Don’t answer the door for anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ll stop in and say hello after we get back. How’s that?”

“Sure.”

After Mom ended the call, Scout glared at the screen. She needed to work faster. Pretty soon, she’d have Mom and Ms. Hopkins looking over her shoulder all afternoon.

She opened Violet’s profile and clicked on her posting history. The podcaster debated her favorite horror movies, new and old. In one thread, she argued over the best final girls in horror history. Final girls, Scout learned, were the last surviving women in horror movies. Violet asserted Jamie Lee Curtis deserved the crown, and every copycat was second-rate.

As Scout moved through the posts, she noticed a disturbing trend. A forum member named Krueger31 always responded to Violet’s posts, often defending her from argumentative members. Scout liked his name. Obviously a reference to the Nightmare on Elm Street movies. Scout jotted the name on a notepad.

She toggled a separate tab and opened another forum Violet frequented. It wasn’t long before Krueger31 showed up. The stranger was flirting with Violet, though she didn’t acknowledge his advances. Scout assumed Violet was paranoid about internet stalkers. She’d need to be to keep herself safe. So who was Krueger31?

Typing the stranger’s name into a search window, she sifted through the results. The unknown poster created accounts on a dozen or more horror forums. One by one, Scout opened the forums, created new accounts, and clicked on Krueger31’s profiles. Unlike Violet, he left his bios empty. No identifying photographs, except the Freddy Krueger profile picture he hid behind on multiple websites. And he followed Violet from thread to thread like a lost puppy dog.

Or an obsessed psycho. Was Krueger31 the lunatic who murdered Violet on her radio show?

The search led Scout in an endless circle. This was going nowhere, and she was running out of time before Mom and Ms. Hopkins crashed her party.

An idea struck her. Geolocation. She could track Violet Lyon and determine if the girl lived around here, as she claimed. Scout dragged Violet Lyon’s IP address into a tracking application and read the results. As she checked the locations, LeVar’s voice came over the radio. She stretched for the handheld radio, but it lay atop the computer table. She strained. The wheelchair wobbled. When she