Dark Moon Magic

by Jerri Drennen

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  When the two were gone, Trace went directly to his office and called Scott, his ex-partner.

  “Kennedy speaking.”

  “Hey, pal. How’s it going in the windy city?”

  “Langston. What the hell? What did I finally do to deserve a call from you?”

  Trace plopped down in his chair. “I need some information.”

  “About what?”

  “Who I replaced as sheriff.”

  “Why? What’s going on there in the boonies?”

  “I need to find out what the man knew about a missing girl from town fifteen years ago.”

  “Okay, well, Brighton was his name. Carl Brighton. So why you looking into a fifteen-year-old missing girl case?”

  “I’m not sure, Scott, but I have a missing woman and a murder here, and I have a gut feeling this could all be connected in some way to that girl.”

  His ex-partner whistled on the other end of the phone. “I thought you left Chicago to get away from all that? Here you’re smack dab in the middle of it.”

  “Hey, I had eight years of quiet. What can I say?”

  “If you need me to help, just give me the word. I’ll be on the next flight.”

  “I appreciate that, Scott. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where this Brighton retired to, would you? I really need to talk to him.”

  “I think in the area somewhere. Gatsby, maybe.”

  Trace rubbed at the stubble at his chin. That was the second time in as many days he’d heard mention of the town. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Yeah, right. It took you eight years to call me this time. I won’t hold my breath.”

  Trace ended the call, then rose and went into the outer office. “Katie, I’m headed over to Gatsby. Tell Garrett that I want him to watch Regina if I don’t get back by,” Trace glanced at his watch, “seven thirty. All right?”

  “I surely will and drive safe.”

  “Always do. See you later.”

  Trace left the precinct and jumped into his cruiser. He hoped he’d have some luck in finding Brighton, so he could learn what the man knew about the Marley case. Maybe opening up this can of worms would reveal what happened to the girl fifteen years ago and possibly uncover who took Sharon and why.

  Trace sped out of town. He’d never visited Gatsby, but he was curious as to why it seemed to be a popular place of late. Why would a retiring sheriff choose it over, say, Florida, where everyone seemed to retire?

  He took highway sixty and was happy to see the town was only nineteen miles from Groves.

  As he drove, his mind drifted to his night with Regina. The two had a boundless passion, but was there more than that? He felt protective of her. He spent time wondering what she was doing. Was that love, though?

  One thing was for sure; her best friend Tiah didn’t much care for him. That could be a problem if he planned to have a future with Regina. Then again, the woman lived in Little Rock. He’d only had to see her when she visited Groves, which couldn’t be often since he was sure the woman had to have a job—a job she wasn’t at now. How had she been able to take so much time away?

  Trace shook his head. Maybe he would have to deal with her more than he thought, and if that were the case, he was going to have to work on making things at least civil between them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  In Gatsby, Regina parked in front of the police station and cut the engine. She turned to Tiah and sighed. “Let’s hope we can get some answers.”

  The two exited the car, walked to the door, and entered. The lighting gave Regina a pause.

  “Can I help you?” a heavyset man sitting behind the counter asked.

  “Yeah. I’m wondering if you could give me some information about a missing girl from Groves.”

  The man frowned. “Just recently?”

  “No. This happened fifteen years ago.”

  “I wasn’t here then. I’ll see if Sheriff Shelton could tell you something.” The man rose and walked down the hall, disappearing from sight. He returned a few minutes later with an older officer in tow.

  “So, I hear you want to find out about Kelly Marley. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Regina smiled at the man.

  “Can I ask why you want to know about the girl?”

  “We have another missing woman, and I think the cases could be related.”

  “Really. I haven’t heard anything about it. Who’s the sheriff down there?”

  “Langston. Sheriff Langston.”

  “Right. Right. He was some big city cop from Chicago.”

  “That’s right,” Regina said, hoping he wouldn’t refuse to talk to her because she wasn’t any type of law enforcement.”

  “As I recall, Sheriff Brighton was in charge of the Marley investigation. It was strange, since he refused any help. He lives somewhere out of town around Gatsby now, but I never see him.”

  “Did you think it odd that he didn’t ask for help?”

  The man shrugged. “Some officers like to take care of their town’s own issues. But in this case, he should have asked for help, especially after they didn’t find the girl.”

  “What about her parents?”

  “I never did hear anything there.”

  Regina was disappointed. This whole thing was a wild goose chase. “Thanks for your time, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”

  “If Sheriff Langston needs help finding this missing woman, have him call me.”

  “I will.” Okay. That was a lie. If Trace knew they were talking to the sheriff of Gatsby about the Marley case, he’d never forgive her, and that was the last thing she wanted. She loved Trace. Their relationship meant the world to her, and she didn’t want to screw it up. She just hoped he felt the same way.

  Regina clasped Tiah’s arm and headed out the station door. “That was a waste of time,” she said when they were on the way to the car.

  “No, wait.” Tiah stopped her in her tracks. “Didn’t the sheriff say Groves’ former police chief lived just outside of Gatsby? We need to talk to him. Find out what happened and why he refused help from the neighboring offices.”

  “How do we find him? The sheriff didn’t even know where he lived.”

  “We ask around. Surely someone in town knows him. Let’s start with the local grocer. The man’s got to eat, right?”

  Regina agreed. The former sheriff would surely know what had happened all those years ago.

  She reached the car. “When we go in and ask, let’s just say we’re family and are visiting him for the first time.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Excuse me, but we’re looking for information on our Uncle Brighton. Can you help us?” Tiah asked as she opened the car door.

  “Exactly.” Regina slid behind the wheel and started the engine. She seriously hoped they could find someone who knew the former chief, otherwise, they’d have to head home knowing nothing more than they already did.

  * * *

  Once inside the Gatsby police station, Trace removed his sunglasses and glanced around. A man sat behind the counter and turned down one end of the newspaper he held to look at him.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m Sheriff Langston from Groves. I’m looking for some information.”

  “Does it have to do with that missing girl?”

  Trace was taken aback. How could the man know why he was there? “How did you know?”

  “We had a couple of ladies in earlier asking the sheriff about the case.”

  Trace’s blood pressure spiked. “Was one a redhead?”

  “Yep. Very striking woman and a cute, little blonde.”

  Regina and Tiah. He was going to lock those two up when he found them. To save them from themselves.

  “Is the sheriff around?”

  “He stepped out for a few minutes.”

  Trace heaved a sigh. “I was told that the former sheriff of Groves moved to this area. You wouldn’t happen to kn
ow where I could find him?”

  The heavier man shook his head. “Nope. You could ask some of the people at the Kroger store down the street. Someone might have some idea.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Trace left, tamping down his anger. He’d deal with Regina and Tiah when he got back to Groves. Right now he planned to find out where Brighton lived, so he could talk to him. The man had to have some information Trace didn’t on the Marley case—a possible theory as to what happened to the girl. Something that could possibly link her to Sharon’s disappearance.

  He pulled away from the station and drove down Main Street Gatsby, taking in the scenery. The town looked like any other. Nothing special that he could see. So why had Brighton moved here, and what drew Rayland to the place?

  He spotted the local grocery and pulled into the parking area, noting a car that looked like Regina’s. But it couldn’t be hers. It had a large dent and scrape down the driver’s side.

  Trace drove the cruiser into a slot and headed inside the store. He was going to question whoever he could to find out where Groves’ former sheriff lived.

  Inside, he took a left and ambled down the aisle, surprised the place was so quiet. Then again, there was a Wal-Mart superstore off the interstate. He was sure most shopped where everything was cheaper.

  He turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing in front of him, talking to one of the Kroger employees, was Regina and Tiah.

  The woman they were talking to glanced his way and smiled.

  Trace took a calming breath and walked up to them.

  “Can I inquire as to what happened to your car?” he asked from just behind Regina.

  The two swirled around, and both of their complexions faded to white.

  “Well,” he prompted.

  “Well … ah, what was the question?” Regina asked.

  “How did you get that long scratch on the side of your car?”

  She cleared her throat. “I got sideswiped.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “I didn’t catch the license plate.”

  Trace studied Regina closely, his gaze honing in on a large red scratch on the side of her elbow. “What happened here?” He grasped her by the arm and drew her closer to get a better look at the injury.

  “Okay, I was standing by the door when this truck came barreling toward me. I got out of the way. My car wasn’t so lucky.”

  Trace’s blood ran cold. “Are you saying that someone tried to hit you?”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “Of course you do.” Tiah looked from Regina to Trace.

  “When did this happen?”

  “A few hours ago.”

  Trace fisted his hands to try to return circulation to them. He could have lost Regina today, and his reaction told him he was in love with her. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We came in to find out if anyone knew where the former sheriff, Brighton, lives.”

  Trace couldn’t have been more surprised to learn of their reason. He was a cop, and he was just getting around to finding the man. Hell, had the two read every Nancy Drew mystery novel on the shelf growing up to know what to do in an investigation? “And?”

  “And what?” Regina looked confused.

  Trace blew out a breath and asked, “Did you find out where the man lives?”

  “Yes. Dee here said he lives out at Crane lake. A manmade lakefront property a couple miles out on Twenty-three.”

  “Great. Let’s go. You ladies are coming with me.”

  Outside the grocery, he opened the passenger side doors on the cruiser and went around to get into the car.

  He was happy to see the women were seated with the doors closed, both fastening their belts.

  Trace pulled out of the parking lot and drove out of town. He hated to have to take them to Brighton’s, but he couldn’t leave them alone knowing someone had tried to kill Regina.

  He sped down the highway, going over everything he planned to ask the former sheriff once he arrived at the man’s house.

  “Are you angry?” Regina asked, interrupting the questions in his head.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just sit around and wait for something else to happen, Trace. I wanted to see if we could find more on Kelly Marley. Why wasn’t she found? I mean, Groves is a small town. How could an eighteen-year-old girl vanish like that?”

  “It happens every day. It’s just never came to your attention.”

  Regina’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. I’ve been a cop for years. Young people vanish all the time. From big cities to small towns.”

  “And they’re never found?”

  “Sometimes they are. A lot of times, they’re not.”

  Trace could tell Regina was getting upset. It was time to change the topic to something that had been bugging him. “Why didn’t you call me when that truck tried to slam into you?”

  She turned away. “It was just another warning.” Regina glanced back. “We’re getting close to something, Trace. I can feel it.”

  “You wouldn’t have been feeling anything had that truck hit you.”

  She huffed. “Why can’t you see that someone is scared about what we’re doing? That’s why this happened. Kelly Marley is the key.”

  “You might be right, but you should have let me handle this.”

  “There’s the exit to the lake,” Tiah said from the backseat.

  He’d drop the subject for now. He needed to concentrate on this meeting with Groves’ ex-sheriff.

  “Watch for Brighton’s mailbox,” he said as they neared the lake.

  All three turned to a line of boxes on the right.

  “See it?”

  “No.” Regina shook her head.

  “There’s another one at the end of the road.” Tiah pointed to a large box about two hundred feet from where they were.

  Trace drove to the turnaround and was happy to see it was Brighton’s.

  “When we get to the house, I want you two to stay in the car. Do I make myself clear?”

  “But …

  Trace slammed the heel of his palm into the steering wheel. “You will, or I’ll handcuff you both. Understand?”

  Regina looked disappointed, but nodded.

  He glanced over the seat at Tiah, who hesitated, then did the same.

  Trace turned down the lane, wondering why the man chose this particular place to retire. The gravel drive seemed to go on forever; tall, reed-like grass was taking over on both sides of the road. The property was definitely secluded and in need of a good brush hogging.

  “Not exactly picturesque, is it?” Tiah asked. “I imagine it’s pretty creepy here at night.”

  Trace had to agree. It would be downright eerie in the dark.

  “There’s the house.” Regina placed her hand on his arm, her touch sending heat racing over his body. He seriously couldn’t think clearly when she was around.

  He made a right into the drive and heard Regina suck in a breath.

  Trace turned to see her face had gone ashen.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s the truck.”

  “What do you mean? What truck?”

  “The one that tried to run me down.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Look at the long scratch on the side.”

  Trace studied the pickup, then glanced at the house, where he saw a thin man exiting. “You two stay in the car. I don’t think he can see you through the tinted glass. I’ll just go ask him a few questions, and we’ll leave.”

  Trace opened the car door and got out. The man stood on his porch, his gaze narrowed on Trace. Somehow he had to get through this interview without alerting the man’s suspicions, while trying to figure how the former sheriff fit into everything.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” the fifty-plus-year-old man asked.

  “Are you Carl Brighton?”


  “Yes, and you are?”

  “I’m Trace Langston.”

  “Sheriff of Groves.”

  “Right. I never did get a chance to meet you before you retired.”

  “So what brings you out here, Sheriff?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about the Kelly Marley case.”

  The older man shrugged. “Can’t tell you much. She ran off, and far as I know, never came back.”

  “So you do know she left on her own accord?” Trace didn’t like the man’s shifting eyes. He wasn’t telling the truth. But what was he hiding? He studied them closely, and for some reason they looked familiar.

  “Kelly’s parents were very strict. They wouldn’t let her out of the house without knowing where she was going and when she’d be back. I guess she got tired of it and ran off.”

  “But why stay away for fifteen years? Not even call?”

  He shrugged again. “You’d have to ask her.”

  “If you don’t think she’s dead, then why the headstone at the cemetery?”

  “That was her parents putting her to rest after seven years. They thought it’d make things easier for them.”

  “I see.” The conversation had gone as far as it could go, and Trace was nervous about who could be in the house, since he’d seen a curtain flutter while he was walking to the porch. “Okay. Thanks for your time. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

  “If I can ask, why all the sudden interest in Kelly Marley?”

  “We have a missing woman in town. She was a friend of Kelly’s in high school.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Sharon Evans.”

  “Carol’s daughter?”

  “Yes. That’s her.”

  “I hope you find her.”

  “I do, too. Her mother is very upset.” Trace shifted his belt. “Again, thanks for the information.”

  “Sure,” the man said before his attention darted to the cruiser. “Who you got in the car? In my day we weren’t allowed to transport family around with us.”

  Trace wasn’t going to deny Tiah and Regina were family. Not when the man standing on the porch could have tried to run Regina over.

  “Times change.” Trace turned and headed for his police car. He needed to get out of there, get back to town, and do some digging. The man wasn’t who he appeared to be, and Trace was determined to find out what the ex-sheriff of Groves was hiding.