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

“Oh. Did the fall leave a sneaker print on your windbreaker?” Leland’s eyes swung to the windbreaker which hung against the wall. The phantom of a sneaker print muddied the front. “Looks to me like someone jumped you after school. Is that what happened?”

Leland’s jaw shifted, but he didn’t reply.

“Just tell the sheriff the truth,” Mrs. Trivett said, pleading. She checked the time and tapped her foot. “Your father is on his way from work. If we can’t get the facts out of you, your father will.”

“Leland,” Presley said, kneeling beside the cot. “We need to catch the person who did this to you. Once he’s behind bars, he won’t be able to hurt you again.”

Leland gave Presley an unconvinced eye roll.

“Is the man who attacked you the same person who stabbed Derek Jordan?” asked Thomas.

Leland’s eye twitched.

“I fell. It was an accident. You can go now.”

Presley stood and placed her hands on her hips. She paced the floor with her head lowered, thinking of a way to get through to the teenager.

“Does this have anything to do with our discussion at the school?” Thomas shot Leland a pointed stare. “About the man you met at the train tracks.”

“What man?” the mother asked, touching her mouth. “Why would you go down to the train tracks? There’s nothing down there except…Leland, are you dealing drugs?”

The boy’s face filled with horror.

“What? No!”

“Your son doesn’t deal drugs,” Thomas said. “Right, Leland?”

“Of course not.”

“Tell your mother what you do at the tracks. It would be best if it came from you.”

Cornered, Leland looked from Thomas to his mother.

“I don’t deal. I buy.”

“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Trivett said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

“It’s just marijuana, Mom. It’s not like I purchase coke and heroin.”

“This isn’t how we raised you, Leland. I knew something was wrong. You stay up all night playing video games. If your grades fall, you’ll lose your scholarship to Ithaca. Is that what you want?”

Leland lowered his head.

“No.”

“Did your…dealer attack you?” Mrs. Trivett’s face twisted on dealer.

Leland chewed his lip.

“Tell me who did this,” Thomas said. “I promise I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“Troy Dean,” Leland said from the corner of his mouth.

“The leader of the 315 Royals.”

“He told me, if I snitch to the police, he’ll kill me like he did Derek.”

Mrs. Trivett hugged her son and cried into his shoulder.

Thomas eyed Presley. She wrote Dean’s name on her notepad and picked up her phone.

Presley and Thomas questioned Leland until the nurse returned. The doctor needed to reset the boy’s nose.

As they crossed the parking lot, Thomas shook his head.

“Why would a Harmon gangster murder Derek Jordan?”

“To keep the kid from ratting him out to the police. Or maybe because he’s a sociopath. Does he need a motive?”

Kane Grove PD had already phoned the Harmon Police Department. As Thomas and Presley spoke, cruisers canvassed Harmon, searching for Dean.

“So why didn’t he kill Leland Trivett, if he’s afraid of teenagers snitching on him?”

Presley stopped beside her vehicle and released a frustrated breath. She folded her arms with the keys dangling from one finger.

“We finally get a break, and we’re already talking ourselves out of it. Why look a gift horse in the mouth? Troy Dean admitted to murdering Derek Jordan.”

“And we’ll bring him in for questioning.”

“But you don’t believe he did it.”

Thomas studied the horizon. The sun dropped toward the hills, painting the land in Halloween orange. The cold bit at his ears and urged him to climb inside his vehicle. A few degrees colder, and snowflakes would fall from the sky.

“What about Cole Holland?”

“Derek Jordan’s stepfather? The department ran a background check on Holland. He drives a red Bronco Sport, not a dark sedan, and the tire tracks from the old train yards didn’t come from a Bronco.”

“Anything else about Holland we should know?”

“He grew up in Barton Falls. Average student, didn’t attend college. No arrests, no red flags. He hated his stepson, but there’s no law against that.”

Thomas dug the keys from his pocket.

“I know someone with inside information on Troy Dean and the Royals.”

Presley brushed her hair back.

“I’m hungry and exhausted, Sheriff. Tell you what. Make your call while I grab dinner, then we’ll meet up afterward. It’s been a long day, and I want this case wrapped up before I hit the pillow tonight.”

After Presley drove off, Thomas dialed LeVar as he climbed behind the wheel.

“Shep Dawg. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Troy Dean confessed to murdering Derek Jordan.”

LeVar hesitated before answering.

“Dean confessed to you?”

“No. Dean and his thugs jumped a teenager in Barton Falls. During the beat down, Dean told the kid he killed Derek, and the boy would be next on the list if he went to the cops.”

A chuckle came over the phone.

“Straight out of the gangster playbook. Whatever beef Dean has with this kid, Dean’s just getting inside the kid’s head to intimidate him.”

“According to our victim, Dean knew details about the attack.”

“Which he probably read on the internet. The murder is all over the news.” LeVar thought for a moment. “You’re obligated to bring Dean in. But nothing adds up. Why kill Derek Jordan, admit to murder, and let the witness walk away? If Dean really killed Jordan, your victim wouldn’t be alive to talk about it.”

“That’s my thinking, as well.” Thomas turned out of the hospital lot and directed the vehicle toward Barton Falls. He wanted to cruise past the Jordan house again. The background check hadn’t revealed a smoking gun in Holland’s past. Yet he didn’t trust the stepfather. While he was in Barton Falls, he’d swing past the train tracks and park outside Valerie Leonard’s house. What was he missing? “LeVar, how’s your sister?”

“Our gang is back together.” LeVar snickered. “Sorry for saying gang. Not the best term to describe our group after today.”

“I’m just glad everyone’s safe. I spoke to Deputy Aguilar. You expect Benson will buy a bus ticket in Kane Grove?”

“We’ll catch him if he does.”

“Leave it to the sheriff’s department, LeVar.”

“I can’t do