High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “Hi. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” I say as we sit.

  “I have like an hour before my next class. It’s cool. So, the FBI’s taken over Melly’s case? That’s good, right? You have like new leads or whatever?”

  “We are pursuing new leads, yes.” I reach into my purse and remove the evidence baggie, handing it to Anika. “Can you identify this as belonging to Imelda?”

  She studies the jewelry, face contorting in disgust. “Yeah. That’s her cross. Her grandmother gave it to her for Communion. She never like took it off like ever. Does this mean that…” Anika slides the bag back. “You found her?”

  “We’re awaiting DNA confirmation, but we believe so. Yes. I’m so sorry.”

  The girl falls back in her chair and stares down at the table to process this new information. I wait for her to speak, which takes about ten seconds. “I knew…I mean I like figured she was dead, but…how?”

  “She was discovered in a local park along with several other bodies.”

  “A, like, serial killer? Oh my God. How’d she die?”

  “I can’t comment on that.” Really I just won’t. This girl doesn’t need the visual. “In the police report you said you suspected Tim Acker. Why?”

  “Because it’s always like the boyfriend or husband, right? They’d just like broken up the week before, and he’d been weird for a few months before.”

  “Weird how?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Distant? Always making excuses why they couldn’t hang out. Projects, studying, stuff like that. Then there were like two weeks where he didn’t return any of her texts or show up to school at all. They went from Siamesetwinville to on different planets.”

  “Did he give a reason why?”

  “He wanted to focus on school. Getting into a Ph.D. program. I mean, you know, that happens and stuff, but he breaks up with her and a week later she disappears? Yeah, he was suspect number one even without me even like pointing him out.”

  “Was he ever violent or did he hang out with violent people?”

  “God no. I mean, I like only see him in passing now, but when I knew him he was totally sweet. More than sweet. Always did whatever Melly wanted. I was like so jealous of them.” The girl instantly regrets those words as her mouth snaps shut, and she starts picking at her salad. “They were totally in love, is all.”

  “Did he seem upset when she vanished?” I ask.

  “Yeah, he uh helped me put up fliers and stuff when I asked him to. Like I said, I barely see him and from what I’ve heard he is a total nerd now. It’s all about school.” She shakes her head. “Really, like deep down if I’m honest, I didn’t think he really did it. I mean, he used to paint her toenails. But if not him, then who, you know?”

  “What about people following her? Did she mention that or have any run-ins or arguments with anyone that got heated? We believe there’s a group of people involved, three men and one woman. Did she ever mention anything along those lines?”

  Anika thinks for a moment. “No. You think they were stalking her or whatever?”

  “We just don’t want to leave any stone unturned,” I assure her. And I’m sensing another dead end here. Wrong place, plus wrong time, equals dead co-ed. Nothing more to the story. “Well, if you think of anything, no matter how small it may seem, please call me.”

  “I will. I’m sorry I couldn’t like be more help.”

  “You were plenty help,” I say with a smile before standing. “We’ll contact you when we have official confirmation about Imelda, but until then please don’t discuss anything I’ve told you today.”

  “I won’t,” the girl says.

  “And if you see Tim, please tell him to give me a call.”

  “Oh, he’s in the library or was like twenty minutes ago when I left. You can probably still catch him. He was in the front carrels.”

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry about your friend.”

  The girl simply nods. I give her one last sympathetic smile before rushing out. I want to catch Tim unawares before he can plan what to say. A rattled perp is an easy perp. I hustle to the library, only getting lost once. The ground floor of the two-story library is mostly tables and plywood study carrels where only about half the kids are studying with the others texting, talking, or both. I shake my head. In my day if we said one word inside these hallowed halls the librarian kicked our butts to the curb. Whatever happened to respect? One of the few with his nose actually in a book is Tim Acker, who I recognize from a picture in the file. Good looking boy. A bit on the thin side with a more feminine face than even mine. Delicate cheekbones, full lips, big brown eyes though he has cut his sandy blonde hair so it’s almost hiding them. Studying must be as boring now as it was in my day because almost the moment I walk in, the kid clocks me. With each step toward him, despite my smile, those eyes grow until they’re the size of saucers. How does he know who I am? Maybe I just give off the law enforcement vibe. That’d be awesome.

  “Tim Acker?”

  “Yeah?” the boy asks, closing his anthropology book.

  “I’m Special Agent Beatrice Alexander. I’ve left you a few messages about Imelda Villa?”

  “I-I’m sorry. I haven’t checked my messages in hours. What-What about Melly?”

  The nearby students stare at me, and one even texts, probably my every word. “Why don’t we talk outside? You look like you can use a break.”

  “I…guess. Okay.” He grabs his gray hoodie from the chair before standing. He trails a pace behind, fiddling with his cell phone as he does. When we reach the entrance, he stops. “Hey, um, can I use the bathroom first? I’ve had like a ton of coffee.”

  “Of course,” I say with a fake pleasant smile. “I need to go too.”

  “Uh, sure. It’s this way,” Tim says, gesturing behind us.

  Test one passed. Not even a moment’s hesitation agreeing to my request. If he planned to escape, he would have made excuses or become flustered. I know from experience. Since it’s not a foolproof indication, I position myself right beside the men’s room door and wait. Good time to check my messages. Oh, a text from Will. Part of me, the smart focused side, screams, “Don’t open the message idiot! Eyes and brain on the case.” Of course I ignore her. She’s such a nag.

  “Where RU?” Will texted.

  I text back, “College. Ivews. U?”

  Within thirty seconds I get back, “Lving mobile. Another body. Need help?”

  This time I listen to the nag. “Almost done. Dead ends. Miss U.”

  “Me 2. Luv U. CU 2nite. Stay safe.”

  “Luv U 2.”

  I slip my phone back in my pocket just as Tim steps out of the bathroom. “Better?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Thanks,” slipping his hands into his pockets.

  We find a bench just outside the library. I study my quarry as he sits beside me. His face is a little tight, especially his lips, so I know he’s uneasy. Even without my newly acquired powers of deduction I can sense the nervous energy wafting from him almost to the point I have pains in my stomach. Nerves. Could just be because I’m law enforcement. Time to find out.

  “I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible,” I say with a grin.

  “Do you have new leads or something about her? Melly?”

  “Um, yes. We believe we may have found her.”

  “What? Is she alive?” he asks, perking up.

  “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry.”

  The boy’s eyes avert down to the ground. “Oh.” A pause. “That sucks.”

  That sucks? I just told him the girl he loved is dead, and that’s the best he can do? There isn’t a whiff of sadness radiating from him. Hello suspicious behavior. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

  “Guess not. I just kind of figured she was like dead for the past year. Or she ran away to frame me for murder or something cause we broke up. She could be a vindictive bitch like that. I forgot our half anniversary once, and she started telling people she
found me making out with some guy. It got around school. And when she disappeared…” He shakes his head. “Everyone acted like I was Hannibal Lecter. They’d give me dirty looks or even avoid me. I had to move off campus and everything. No one cared I had like five people as my alibi. No one. So yeah, it sucks she died. Maybe it’ll hit me later or something, but I’m not going to lie and say I’m devastated or whatever. Besides, if I did, you wouldn’t believe me either. That’s why you’re here. The boyfriend’s always the first suspect. The police like ripped my life apart, examined everything, and found nothing because there was nothing to find. I didn’t kidnap her and I have five people and surveillance video to prove it.”

  Either this kid’s an acting major or he’s telling the truth. I read the report. The police tried and failed to break his alibi. The study group members had no reason to lie, and there was the surveillance footage. He didn’t leave the library until after nine. And he gets points for honesty. If he’s been a blubbering mess, making the girl into a saint, my antenna would be swirling like a cyclone.

  “Was there anyone else who Imelda may have angered?” I ask.

  “Like I said, she could be a bitch but not like that big a bitch.”

  “What about people following her? Did she ever mention being scared or feeling like things were out of the ordinary?”

  “We weren’t talking so no. Look, I can’t help you. I wish I could, I do, but I don’t know anything.” For the first time a glimmer of sadness flits across his brown eyes. “How did…did she suffer or whatever?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss particulars, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, do you have any suspects? I mean, besides me? Was she found in that park?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How did you know about that? The park?”

  “It’s a small town. Even smaller campus. Everyone knows you’re digging people up there. It was even on the news. They said it was a serial killer and something about dogs or something.”

  “Then…can I go? I have an anthropology paper due.”

  “One last question.” I pull out the photos of the other victims we’ve identified and my business card. “Do you recognize any of these people? Are there any Imelda may have known?”

  He studies the photos, shaking his head each time. “No. Sorry.”

  “Long shot anyway,” I say with a smile. After collecting the photos, I rise with him following suit. “Thank you for your time. My number’s on the card. If you remember anything, no matter how unimportant you believe it may be, please call. I mean anything.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says, pocketing my business card. “Good luck.”

  The boy politely nods before returning to the library. When he’s out of earshot, I let out a long, aggravated sigh. Fudge. Double fudge. Nothing, nothing and more nothing. I want to bang my head against all the dead ends. These wolves are good. Damn good. Experienced. Probably been doing this kind of thing for decades. Heck, even when the crime appears random, like now, the baddies leave a trace. Fibers, DNA, one of the group starts blabbing to others of their deeds. Something. Whoever this hybrid is, she runs a very tight ship. She even keeps them in line as a werewolf so they don’t stray toward the Ranger’s station. If she weren’t a mass murderer, I’d almost respect her.

  There’s one last stop to make before I tuck my tail between my legs and head back to mobile command empty handed. Imelda was leaving her poetry class in the English building at approximately 6:15 PM. I locate the currently dark, empty classroom on the second floor. Okay, per the file she said good-bye to her friend Hayley when they exited this building. Per Hayley, there was nothing out of the ordinary when they parted, Hayley walking to the left and Imelda to the right toward her car. As I take the route to the parking lot, I examine the surroundings. It would have been dark, just past twilight. I pass through the open quad, just a vast flat space with sidewalks, where two students remember seeing her. Once again, nothing suspicious was noted by either of them. No one obviously following her or paying attention to her, but both insisted it was dark and they weren’t really paying her any mind. These two were the last to see Imelda Villa Solis alive.

  About halfway through the quad, I veer right toward the three-story buildings as it’s the most direct route to Lot C at least per the map I check. The sidewalk cuts between two buildings, social sciences and mathematics, in a narrow alleyway with trees inside concrete enclosures every few feet. Downright claustrophobic. Even now, with the sun shining above there’s an air of un-safety, like a rapist’s hiding behind a tree trunk, bush, or pillar. Per the police report, this is where it’s believed she was grabbed. After subduing her, the assailant raced up to their waiting car and drove off with their prey. But as I stand here, I flashback to my not so long ago college days and recall how skittish I was walking to my car from my one night class. Staring at every bush as I rushed past it, darn near leaping out of my sneakers when I heard footsteps behind me. Lights and people, every girl knows at night if you’re not with a group you stay near lights and people. This place may as well be named, “Rapist’s Alley.” Imelda didn’t come this way, at least not regularly. I often went through buildings, especially when it was cold and dark, but the police canvassed both buildings and those inside that night neither saw nor heard her. There was no trace of her in this alley either, nothing left behind, but if this was a random grab, the wolf could have been patiently waiting for some idiot co-ed, and Imelda was the unlucky one. Wrong place, wrong time. Makes sense. Fudge. I can feel this case growing colder by the minute.

  As it stands now, I have a 100% clearance rate. I always get my man/woman/vampire/ whatever. I often have to reach the precipice of death to get them, but I do get them. This time I’m not so confident. We usually have more evidence by now, a grasp or at least a direction to continue in. I thought Imelda would speak to me, provide me a compass heading, but she’s as silent as her grave. With another long sigh, my millionth this case, I turn back the way I came. Not the first walk of shame this campus has seen, but definitely the most shameful.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Marvelous Night

  For a Moondance

  “So…nothing? We still have nothing?”

  “We’re still waiting for about half the packs to respond, but no. Nothing yet,” Alpha Dahl responds.

  Of course. I should be at least a little content not to be the only one trapped in a maze of dead ends. That I’m not the only incompetent one, but it’s cold comfort. I just want out of the damn maze.

  “Send another e-mail to those who haven’t gotten back to you and press upon them how important it is they do,” I say.

  “They will respond. A situation like this impacts us all. We want to locate the rogues even more than you do, Agent Alexander.”

  “I very much doubt that, Mr. Dahl.” I stare at the murder board with our victim’s pictures, a map of the park, and my scribbles from earlier, a frown forming on my face. “Have you ever seen anything like this before? Any insights you want to share with the class?”

  As he steps beside me, his icy blue eyes scroll the board. I don’t like him standing so close to me. Every nerve ending is on high alert when he is. I hope this isn’t what Will feels when he’s near me. “I find it strange the park rangers never heard a single howl or discovered a body until now. After a change, we’re exhausted. We can barely walk or think. Yet these wolves manage to clean up all the mess—the limbs, the blood—and dig a grave before the park opens?”

  “They could have dug it beforehand,” I suggest.

  “True. But still there would be several odds and ends to clear up. There’s also the fact even the most feared of pack leaders can lose control of a subordinate, especially in wolf form. As a wolf you want to run, to hunt, to howl. They would have periodically strayed from her designated territory. Unless she used a barrier spell.”

  “We haven’t found any crystals or sigils in our canvasses, but it is possible,” I say. “And if she did use one, why not o
n this last hunt? Years of going to this park, possibly every month, but at least twice a year for sure, without a single mistake. What was different this time? Why wasn’t there a complete clean-up? We know they weren’t interrupted.”

  “The victim was a werewolf himself,” Dahl points out. “He may have sniffed out he’d walked into a trap and escaped before the barrier was up.”

  “And the leg? Were they so upset in the morning having killed a fellow wolf they got sloppy this one time? They obviously buried the rest of him or someone would have sniffed out the rotting carcass by now.”

  “Is your doctor positive he was a werewolf?”

  “As close to positive as she can get. You guys do change back to human form when you die, so it’s not like we found a wolf’s paw.”

  Alpha Dahl’s cell begins chirping “Someone To Watch Over Me” and a flash of a grin crosses his sharp face. So he can smile. “Excuse me, it’s my wife. I need to take this.” He removes the phone from his belt and walks out of the conference room. “Hi, love. How are the kids?”

  At least our talk was marginally helpful. I add, “barrier spell” and “park rangers lying?” on the board. I circle that last one. The park. The killing fields. The victims are leading us nowhere, maybe it’s time to shift focus. We have the dates the vics were grabbed. It’ll be easy to cross reference those full moons with the ranger’s work schedules. See if one was working all those nights. My money’s on Ranger Rick. He did report the leg, and he has been helpful the past few days, but it could just be a cover. He overlooked the leg, civilian witnesses reported it, and he had no choice but to phone the police. I jot this theory on the board too before e-mailing the Forestry service again for copies of the work schedules. I’ve e-mailed them twice and haven’t gotten even a form letter back. It’s past eight so they probably won’t get this e-mail until tomorrow. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Always tomorrow.