Blood Moon: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (A Grant & Daniels Detective Kidnapping Series Book 3)

by Charlotte Raine

  "That is…insane," I say. "You know me, Greg. I would never kill anyone. Why would I start with the judge? This is crazy. You can't believe this."

  "We have to take you in, Aaron," he says. "We can't ignore her testimony."

  "No…" I say. "Come on. You can't do this. I was just home. I don't have any bloody clothes. You know I'm innocent."

  "If you're innocent, then you'll come with us and we can get this all sorted out," Holtzman says.

  I gape at him, unsure what is left to say. How can I prove I'm innocent when I've been home? I could show them how I had talked to the hotel, but that call had to have happened after the murder. And before that, I was just searching through all of the details I had about the other murders, which the police will find and think the reason I have them is because I'm the murderer and I'm gloating over my crimes.

  "Greg, listen to me. Sarah is involved with some of the murders that have happened recently. I don't know what happened here, but she's trying to frame me. I think she either killed or helped to kill Nick, Junior, and Brianna. She could be involved in LaPonte's murder, too."

  "Are you kidding me?" Holtzman snorts. "Sarah Latham? Kill people? You really have lost your mind, Grant. What—do you think she then stabbed herself? Just to frame you? Come on. Put your hands behind your back."

  I turn around, pressing my fists against each other. I feel the cuffs around my wrists and hear them click shut.

  "Let's go," he says.

  I glance over at Greg, who still looks stricken. "Call Teresa. She'll tell you the same thing. We were trying to get the hotel footage to see if someone who belongs to this church called the Alpha and Omega Temple—that Sarah seems to be part of—is in it. Just call Teresa."

  He nods, but that's all I see before Holtzman begins to push me toward one of the police cars.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sarah (Early Tuesday morning)

  I trace my fingers along the patch they placed over the stitches in my abdomen.

  "You really should stay the night," Dr. Menken says. He's a skinny man in his late fifties or early sixties with salt-and-pepper hair. "You're doing well now, but you lost a lot of blood, and it's best if you just rest for the next ten to twelve hours."

  "I'm fine. It's nothing. I just—I need to get away from all of this. The police already called my mother and they caught the man responsible, so I just want to get away from here. I'm sure the reporters will be here soon enough, and I want to get out before they have the chance to ask me a thousand questions—"

  "Sarah." My mother sits beside the hospital bed, her face so pale it looks as if she were the one stabbed. "Maybe it's best we stay here. I'm sure we could get the police to keep the reporters away."

  "I don't really trust the police anymore, Mom. If you remember correctly, one killed Dad and tried to kill me."

  She winces, glancing down at her feet.

  I turn back to the doctor. "I'm eighteen years old. I can legally deny myself any medical care."

  "Of course, but I don't recommend it."

  I remain silent and glare at him.

  "Let me just get some paperwork."

  After he leaves the room, I slide off the l bed and pick up the plastic bag filled with clothes my mother had bought in the hospital's gift shop. From my understanding, the police called her and she rushed over to the hospital. Half a minute ago was the first time either of us mentioned her husband is dead.

  "Sarah, can you at least think about staying?" she asks. "I know you're upset about everything, but it's best for your physical health if you stay here."

  "My physical health?" I sneer and turn around to look at her. If I have to tear her apart to keep her from badgering me, I will. "You stayed married to the judge even as he began beating me. You stayed married to him even after…even after he did unspeakable things to me. And for what? For money. You did it all for money. It's sick. You're a sick woman."

  Her cheeks flush pink and she looks back down at her shoes.

  "I—that wasn't the reason why I stayed," she mumbles. "I thought it was the right thing to do. I was raised to believe marriage should never be broken. I thought it was best you had a father around."

  "Well, you know what?" I challenge, sliding a pair of sweatpants on. "I was raised to believe in Santa Claus, but I stopped believing that when the theory was disproven by years of personal experience. That's how things work in the world. If something doesn't seem to be working out or factual, you change your thoughts. It's that simple."

  As I'm pulling my shirt on, the stitches stretching with my movement, Dr. Menken walks back into the room. He has a few papers in his hand and a pen.

  "You just need to sign this to say that you're leaving on your own volition with the knowledge that—"

  "Yeah, I go it." I take the pen and sign the papers. I turn back toward my mother. "I want to be by myself for a few days. Don't try to get ahold of me."

  I leave the room without waiting for a response. I'm not going to wait for anything ever again because getting exactly what I want is the best feeling in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Teresa (early Tuesday morning)

  Greg leads me to the interrogation room. The brick walls painted white and the steel tables and chairs make it feel intimidating, but Aaron is sitting with Pastor Renard looking simply resigned to his fate.

  "Thank you," I say to Greg.

  "Don't thank me yet," he says. "They're still building a case."

  He steps out of the room and the door swings shut behind me.

  "So, you just have to look at this as an obstacle," Pastor Renard says. Quite honestly, I'd seen enough of Pastor Renard lately—he had been part of Brianna's, Junior's, and Nick's funerals. "God doesn't allow anything to happen just for the sake of hurting us or distressing us…it's all to lead us down the path He knows is best for us. We cannot fathom his thoughts, but I promise you this will all lead to a better version of yourself if you let it. You just need to trust Him."

  "Thank you, Father," he mumbles, glancing down at his hands that are underneath the table. "I just need to talk to Teresa now. But, truly, thank you for coming down. I know it's really early…"

  Pastor Renard shrugs. "I guess I'll have more time to practice my sermon. I won't mention your name, but I'll be sure to tell everyone to give you their prayers."

  He smiles at me before exiting the room. I sit down in the same chair he had been in.

  "So…I heard a lot has happened since we parted ways," I say. "What do you think? Do you really think Sarah stabbed herself? I thought maybe her father was an accomplice, he stabbed her, so she stabbed him back, and she happened to hit him in the throat, so he died?"

  "I don't know. Why would she frame me then? Why wouldn't she just blame her father? She did try to pin all of the other murders on her father, but I don't think he would have been involved in Nick's murder. I can't believe she fucking killed Nick, but I don't think I can deny it anymore either. She's fucking crazy."

  He rubs his face, covering his eyes with his hands. His hands had been hidden under the table before, but now I see that they're still cuffed.

  "Let's take this one step at a time," she says. "Greg told me as much as he could in a short amount of time, but let me get it from your point of view. You don't have an alibi for Judge Latham's murder?"

  "No. I was home, trying to figure out if Sarah could have committed all of those murders…and the police found that I had pulled up all these articles and notes about the murders, so they think I'm a crazy serial killer gloating over my kills."

  "Okay. No. You were with me. You were with me during the time of the murder.

  He shakes his head. "No. We weren't. We went separate ways around four thirty. I called the hotel right after, but the owner wasn't available. The owner called me a few minutes before Holtzman called me, so I can't use a phone call as an alibi."

  "No. Aaron. You were with me. You were with me during the whole murder."

&nb
sp; He tilts his head. "No…the murder was around nine…we weren't together."

  "For God's sake, Aaron, we were together and I'm your alibi." I hiss, and I finally see the realization dawn on his face. "You just didn't tell the other officer before this because you didn't want our relationship to hurt any of our current investigations."

  "You can't…" He leans forward, whispering. "If they find out you're lying, it could ruin your whole career."

  "I don't care if it ruins my career." As soon as the words leave my lips, I know they're true. While I did work hard to get where I am and I wanted to spend my life catching bad guys, I've never been happier than when I'm working with Aaron. "You're important to me Aaron. You're by far the most important person in my life. I won't ever abandon you for the sake of my career."

  I glance at him to ensure he knows I mean for the rest of the lives. It may piss Rhoda off that I'm going to suddenly cancel her plans for me to go undercover, but she'll have to send some other female in my place.

  He nods. "You're the most important person in my life, too."

  "Good," I say and stand up. "I'm going to give your alibi to Greg, and I'll go see if I can find Sarah. If I haven't found her in the next half hour or so and you're out of police custody, we can look for her together."

  As I turn to leave. He grabs my hand—his hands are cuffed, so they both clasp around mine—and jerks me closer to him, causing me to stumble forward. His hands cup around my face and his lips brush against mine. He continues to kiss me as if the end of the world is coming. I kiss him back, returning his urgency while trying to convey my reassurances at the same time.

  Then, I step back.

  "I have to get to Sarah before she can leave the hospital. This could be our chance to pin her down. I can't guarantee she won't try to leave the state and if she gets into Canada—"

  "Go ahead," he says. "I'll see you later."

  I nod, heading toward the door. My head is full of things I can't define, but I can feel them burning inside me like a thousand torches that are either lighting the way or about to burn someone at the stake.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sarah (Tuesday morning)

  Judgement Day is tomorrow.

  As I walk into the Temple's compound, all I see are people rushing around, scrambling to get rid of their worldly possessions in a bonfire that's creating a plume of smoke behind the huts. Anna lingers by the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes.

  "Anna," I say, walking up to her, the pain from my stitched-up wound stinging with every step. She turns to me, the flames disappearing in her eyes, replaced by blackness. "Don't you think you're a little too close to the fire?"

  She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. We're all going to heaven tomorrow."

  I force a smile. "Still, it's best if you don't stand too close. When Jesus comes, He'll bring you a painless death. I promise."

  I hate to lie to her, but at this point, I'm sure she's too brainwashed to be convinced the end of the world isn't happening tomorrow. There's nothing I can do but use her own cult's beliefs to reassure her.

  "Hey, Anna, have you seen—"

  Someone grabs me by the arm and I almost trip into the fire. I can feel the flames lick the back of my calves before I step forward again. Jonah still has a tight grip on my arm.

  "What in God's name did you think you were doing?" He hisses, jerking me farther away from the fire. "I told you to kill him with a crossbow, but all I'm hearing in the news is that he was stabbed to death. It would have been simpler, safer, and more pious to use the crossbow. Why didn't you?"

  "I had a change of heart," I state, determined never to let another man's rage control me again. I try to slip my arm out of his grasp, but his fingertips are digging into my flesh. "Let me go, or you'll see that knife up close and personal."

  He sneers at me one more time before he lets go of my hand.

  "God will deal with you tomorrow. He despises nothing more than someone who proclaims to be one of His children while disobeying His orders. 'This is how we know who the children of God are and who the children of the devil are: Anyone who does not do what is right is not God's child—'"

  "Oh, my God! S=Shut the fuck up." I snap. "Stop quoting verses. I don't care. At all. I don't believe in any of this. The end of the world is not coming. You're either crazy or a manipulative tyrant. Just shut up. I am not one of your flock. I am not a sheep."

  His face flushes bright red. "How dare you, you insignificant whore. You don't think I've known how you've been tempting my son? It all makes sense now. I wondered if the woman who symbolizes the Whore of Babylon had made her presence known yet, but now I know it's you. You're—"

  "We're not even in Babylon!" I shout.

  "She will be 'full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns—'"

  "I don't have any of those things!"

  "'—having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.'"

  Elijah jogs up to me. "What is going on here?"

  "You're dad is accusing me of being the Whore of Babylon." I scowl, my heart beating so fast in my chest—from anger, from embarrassment, from betrayal.

  "'—drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus—'"

  "Father." Elijah grabs his shoulder. "Stop. She's not evil. She's with us."

  Jonah shrugs off Elijah's hand. "She is against us. She said herself she didn't believe in anything that we believe. She refuses to listen to me, a messenger of God. Her father knew LaPonte, she knew her father…she's involved with all of this. She tried to mislead you with her lethal seduction. I saw how close you two were while you were teaching her how to shoot the crossbow. She is nothing but a whore and a traitor to God. She's no longer allowed within the territory of this Temple."

  As I turn to leave, so enraged I'm afraid I will strike back and kill Jonah in front of all of his followers—a fatal mistake, I'm sure—Elijah reaches out to me, his fingertips brushing against my arm to stop me. Our eyes catch for a second before he turns back toward his father.

  "If she is no longer allowed to be here, then I am leaving with her."

  I take a step back, surprised, as Jonah gapes at his son.

  "Have you been fooled that easily?" Jonah demands. "Elijah, it's in your best interests to remember that the devil disguises himself as an angel of light. I've researched about her family. Her brother is evil, her father is evil…they are children of Satan. I wanted to believe God had brought us a miracle by producing someone good from a family bathing in its own sin, but I was deceived. Choose to not be deceived, Elijah. The devil will not care about you once you're in hell."

  "The second Greatest Commandment is to love our neighbors…to love everybody. Jesus said that. It's the most important commandment after loving God. So, I am going to love Sarah. I follow God. I don't follow you," Elijah says.

  "'Honor your mother and your father.'" Jonah snarls. "'So that you may live long in the land—'"

  "That is not one of the Greatest Commandments," Elijah snaps. "If you cannot love everybody, then you have no right to preach to anybody else. 'Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?' Matthew, chapter seven, verse three. Sarah and I are leaving."

  He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the gate.

  "We have to get Anna," I whisper. "We can't let her stay here."

  "They won't let us take her. Come on." He tries to pull me away. I glance around at the crowd that has stopped throwing their possessions in the fire to watch the scene unfold. Anna is with her mother, who has the same black braids and barely looks old enough to have a young child.

  It's a strange feeling—when you've become so protective and affectionate of someone who is vulnerable—someone young enough to be molded by the insanity of a cult—that you feel
like you're their parent. You could imagine a decade from now when the child is the same age as you and you get to guide and support them to make the biggest decisions of their life.

  And then their real parent comes along and reminds you that it's not your child. You don't even have a child.

  All I want is to leave more of a legacy than a cemetery of bodies.

  I reluctantly let Elijah lead me back to my car. He gets into the driver's seat then jumps into the passenger seat.

  For him, this is a leap of faith, but I know this is when they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Teresa (late Tuesday morning)

  Greg tells me Vanessa is staying at The Granite House, a hotel in Anchorage, since her house is currently a crime scene. It's an incredibly fancy hotel—even more classy than Silver Anchor Hotel—with a fountain in the lobby and sculptures at the end of every hallway. I knock on a door with a silver plate engraved with the number 207. I step away from the door, so I'm not visible through the peephole.

  The door creaks open and I hear the clank of the hotel security lock.

  "Hello?" her soft voice calls out.

  I step back in front of the door. "Hello, Mrs. Latham. Can we talk for a minute?"

  "No, no, I don't think that's a good idea…"

  She tries to close the door again, but I slam my palm against it, forcing it to stay open.

  "I tried calling your hotel room, Mrs. Latham. Nobody would answer. It's just a simple question—where is your daughter?"