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

by Charlotte Raine

  "And you think it was Sarah?"

  "It all lines up. I'll be there in about twelve minutes, but you're already on Main Street, so it should be a lot faster for you to get there."

  "I'll check it out."

  "Maybe it's better if we just meet there. We've underestimated her this whole time—"

  "She's not prepared this time and she doesn't have the upper hand." I try to reassure her. "I'll be fine."

  "I love you," she mumbles.

  I smile. "I know."

  "Aren't you cocky?"

  "No, I just know that with how much I love you, you have to feel at least a tiny bit of that. I love you, too, Teresa. I'll see you soon."

  I hang up. As I put my phone back into my pocket, my hand lingers over my Glock that the officer handed back to me after they let me go. Honestly, it's not just that I think Sarah will be unprepared. There's also the matter that she killed my foster son and I clearly remember she didn't shed a single tear over him.

  That alone is worth my undivided, personal attention.

  * * *

  The glass door and windows of the bakery are covered by white paper, so I won't have as big of an ability to catch Sarah by surprise as I thought. I grab my Glock out of the holster and open the door.

  There is blood.

  There is a body.

  And there is Sarah Latham.

  The door hits against my shoulder as I aim the gun at Sarah. She's sitting next to the dead young man, stroking his hair. She doesn't even look up at me. I take a step into the store and the door shuts behind me.

  "Hey, Sarah," I say, keeping my gun trained on her head. "It's been a long time."

  "Yes," she says, finally looking up at me. She doesn't flinch at the gun.

  For the first time, I notice the knife sticking out of the young man's eye. That's something I didn't ever need to see in my life.

  "When is the last time we saw each other? Nick's funeral?"

  His name coming off her lips sends a shock of rage through me. My finger stiffens near the trigger. One shot. Teresa would back me up if I told her it was self-defense. There is clear evidence that Sarah already killed someone here. It shouldn't be that hard to convince everyone she tried to kill me, too.

  "I believe you're right," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry we didn't get to chat that day."

  "Yes, I'm sorry." She glances back down at the dead body, continuing to stroke his hair. "I never know quite what to say at those kinds of events."

  "That's fine. Everyone just repeats the same phrases anyway."

  "It's terrible, isn't it? Nobody ever says what they want to say."

  "Absolutely. Terrible." I echo as I nod toward the dead body between us. "What happened to your friend?"

  "We had a fight. It ended badly."

  "Is that what happened with Nick? Did you two have a fight and it ended badly?"

  "Not exactly," she says. "You had to know Nick was a temperamental person. He found out I had killed Brianna and he felt like I had used him for information, figuring where you were in your investigations, so he lashed out. I would say I had to defend myself, but that's not quite true. I placated him, convinced him I loved him, and then I killed him."

  My grip is so tight on my gun I imagine that the metal could almost bend under my fingers. "Why are you telling me all of this? Did you kill all of the others, too? Junior? LaPonte?"

  "Yes," she states without elaboration. She glances down at the dead man. Her finger traces around the blade-pierced eye. "And Elijah. I killed Elijah."

  "Why are you telling me all of this?"

  "I'm confessing my sins. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

  "You're supposed to be repentant, too," I say. "Otherwise your confession is worthless. Besides, you forgot to mention your father. You killed your own father."

  Her head snaps up, glaring at me.

  "I'm not repentant about that at all." She sneers. "He deserved every second of pain he felt. I hope there is a hell because he deserved a lot more. You know nothing about my father—you just saw him as he wanted to be seen. He was a bully who beat anyone who didn't do exactly what he wanted. He—he did things to me that you can't even imagine. Things that even violate prison inmate's moral code, so don't you fucking judge me about what I did to my father. What I did was justice—something that you know nothing about despite carrying around that police badge."

  There's a fire in her eyes that I've never seen before, and for the first time, I can vividly imagine her killing off people without a thought. Something in her life made her merciless and I don't think it was just being kidnapped. The very mention of her father was enough for her to rise out of her apathetic composure.

  "It's not up to you to serve justice," I say, but the fire is already fading from her eyes and she returns to smiling at me.

  "Aren't you curious how your foster son died? The only difficult part was lifting him up by the neck onto that wooden beam. It would have been easier if the beam was round, but those edges were a pain."

  Heat rushes into my face and I feel my nostrils flaring. I step closer until the barrel of my gun is a few inches away from her head.

  "I'll kill you, Sarah. Don't think that my badge will stop me from serving my own justice. There's one thing that comes before my job and that's the people I care about."

  "He struggled for his life as I strangled him, but he was injured because he had already been shot in the arm, so I had the upper hand. Was that you who shot him? He never got around to telling me."

  "Shut up, Sarah." I snarl, setting my finger against the trigger. "I will blow your head off, I swear to God."

  "I did that to Brianna…you must know, since you were the one investigating her murder. Bam. One shot. It was really something to see. The brain matter and the blood that comes out. It's like art."

  There's something odd about her face. There's a gun pointed under her hairline and there's not the slightest indication of fear in her face. We might as well still be talking about the last time we saw each other.

  Is she egging me on?

  I hear the screech of tires outside. Teresa is here.

  "Come on." Sarah spits out. "Shoot me or else whoever your buddy is out there will stop you. This is your last chance to get your justice. Don't let it slip out of your hands."

  "You want me to kill you?"

  Her eyes narrow. She doesn't respond, but I realize this is true. She is absolutely crazy, but she still had a mission and a moral code. It seems she completed her mission by killing her father and she broke her code by killing whomever this man is that she's caressing, so she sees no need to carry on.

  She wants me to get my "justice," because she sees it as justice, too. I hear the door open and Teresa steps in beside me. With her sweet scent of jasmine and vanilla, I know exactly what I want. I want to spend my life with her and if that includes waiting for her while she's undercover, I'm willing to do it. And if I want to spend my life with Teresa, I can't kill Sarah because then I would be spending my life in prison.

  "What's going on?" Teresa asks, eyeing the Glock still pointed at Sarah.

  I lower it. "Just talking."

  "What are you doing?" Sarah demands. "You know you want to kill me, so just do it. It's only fair. It's more than fair. Think of all of the people I've killed. Just point the gun and pull the trigger. It's not that hard—I know—I've done it twice."

  "Sarah Latham," I say. "You need to turn around and put your hands behind your back because you're under arrest."

  "No, I'm not." She hisses. "I am not going to prison. I won't become submissive to another authority figure again in my life. You have to kill me. Sending me to prison for life isn't justice. You're supposed to serve justice, so do it."

  "No. You'll serve time in a prison or a mental institution," I tell her. "It may not be what you see as justice, but you don't get to decide your own justice."

  Teresa lets out a sigh of relief. Glancing at Teresa, I see the flash of stee
l beside Sarah. As I turn back to Sarah, she's already on her feet and the combat knife that had been in Elijah's eye is in her hand. She runs to the service counter. She places the blade of the knife under her chin and lingers for a second over the counter.

  "No," Teresa breathes out, but before she can take two steps, Sarah heaves her weight onto the knife, the handle hitting against the counter, causing the blade to slam into her head.

  Teresa and I both run to Sarah as she falls to the floor. There's screaming in my head, but I can't tell if it's coming from Teresa or me. Teresa is on her knees, her hands cradling Sarah's head as my fingers linger around the knife lodged in her head. Sarah's eyes stare blankly upward. As I try to find her pulse in her neck, Teresa calls nine-one-one, but with every second that passes, I know we're too late.

  During the Apocalypse, everything that is evil is meant to perish, but at times like this, I don't think evil can ever be defeated. It passes through generations, through insincere words, through misplaced anger. It simply passes through, consuming even the most innocent until all that is left is a corpse.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Teresa (Thursday morning)

  "Last night, we had the much anticipated lunar eclipse," a newscaster with a bright teal tie says. "While we would normally talk about everyone going outside to check out this rare event, everyone is currently talking about the Alpha and Omega Temple, who believed the Apocalypse was going to occur yesterday. Karen, did you experience the Apocalypse yesterday?"

  "Well, John, I arrived at work about ten minutes early, so that's almost apocalyptic." She jokes.

  "That is something special, but not quite world ending. So—in case you're wondering about our end-timers—here is a clip of them from yesterday."

  The TV screen switches to showing the Alpha and Omega Temple. There's a large pile of ash and all around the dome-shaped temple, people have their heads back, their eyes closed as if they're waiting for something to take them up into the sky. Around them, FBI agents and police are searching through the compound.

  "As we told you yesterday, Elijah Walker, son of the Alpha and Omega Temple founder—Jonah Walker—was violently murdered by Judge Latham's daughter, Sarah Latham. When the FBI went to Jonah to ask him questions about his son, they found some evidence, which hasn't been disclosed, which caused them to bring in cadaver dogs. The dogs found the body of a previous follower of the church. This young man—Oliver Duncap—had become a line cook at Penny's Diner after leaving the Alpha and Omega Temple. Mr. Walker, believing that the Apocalypse was still coming, proudly admitted to the murder, proclaiming that Mr. Duncap was the Black Horseman of Famine. I could not make this up if I tried. Regardless, Mr. Walker was arrested, some of the other members are under investigation, and the Apocalypse never came. Isn't that all a shame, Karen?"

  "It's something, John," she says. "It's really something."

  Aaron and I watch the TV while eating at the Ole Skillet diner. I eat the Early Bird Special—two scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, two slices of toast, and a bowl of fruit—while Aaron digs into a plate of pancakes.

  "So…I told Rhoda that I changed my mind and I no longer want to be undercover," I say. He looks up at me, his eyebrows raised in shock. "I told her I want to spend time in my personal life. I've spent all this time working and—being with you…it's the first time I've really enjoyed my life."

  "You shouldn't give up such a great opportunity for me," he says. "I'm willing to wait. It isn't a problem."

  "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for me. I want to be here with you. I want to spend some nights with you and I want to occasionally work on same cases together. It's for me. I want this."

  "If you're sure…"

  "I'm sure," I tell him. He grins, taking a big bite out of his pancakes. As we go back to eating, I hear the diner door open and the restaurant becomes oddly silent. I look up to see who came inside.

  It's Vanessa.

  She looks fragile and uncertain. She looks like she has aged twenty years since I saw her last—her hair looks like it would break if you touched it, her skin is sallow, and her mouth looks too small for her face. She is certainly no longer the beautiful person considered to be Judge Latham's trophy wife.

  "Mrs. Latham," I call out. "Would you like to come eat with us?"

  She turns to the two of us, her eyes seeming to look straight through us.

  "Um, no thank you," she says. "I just…need to get some coffee before…before making some arrangements."

  She doesn't say anymore as she turns to talk to the cashier, but I have no doubt her arrangements are with a funeral director. Everyone in the diner stays silent until Vanessa walks back outside. Then, everyone seems to talk at once.

  "It's got to be so hard for her," Aaron says. "Her stepson is in prison, who's a murderer, she lost her husband Monday, her daughter kills herself the next day, and now everyone is talking about her daughter being a serial killer—"

  "Technically, her daughter was a serial killer."

  He grimaces. "I know. It just feels different. She used to be Lisa's best friend. I still remember her playing in the sprinklers in my old front yard. I—something went wrong in that girl's head. I know some of the media has picked up that Judge Latham was involved with Zoë LaPonte's death…it's just chaos. Vanessa's whole life will revolve around the fact that she was surrounded by psychopaths. The only upside is…she'll end up with a good amount of money from her husband's life insurance, and Sarah already bought her the bakery in her name—"

  "Yeah, I don't think she's going to want that bakery anymore," I say. "I avoided that area of road, just so I couldn't see it. I just can't get that image of her or Elijah out of my head."

  "I know. I avoided it, too. I imagine the town will want to knock it down," he says. "But…I can feel some of her pain. I know what it's like to lose everyone you love. And I found someone new to love, so I have faith that she can do it, too."

  I smirk. "So, who is this mystery woman that you're in love with?"

  "You're the FBI agent." He teases. "I think you can figure it out."

  We kiss. There's something so different about it now than when we've kissed in the past. There's no expectations in the kiss. It's just…accepting each other for who we are, not for who we want each other to be.

  "So…you know how you were talking about wanting to spend more nights with me?" he asks. I nod, taking a sip of my coffee. "Well…would you want to spend every night with me? As in…in the same house? Or apartment, if that's what you prefer?"

  I nearly spit out my coffee. "Really? You're asking me to move in with you?"

  "Well…I mean, only if you want to…I don't want to pressure you or anything, I just—"

  "Of course, I want to move in with you!" I blurt. Other people turn to see what our excitement is about, but I don't care. I reach over the table and kiss him again. He kisses me back, his fingertips caressing my jawline. I sit back down.

  "Sorry about that," I tell him. "I didn't mean to be quite that exuberant."

  "You can always be that exuberant with me." He grins and raises his coffee mug. "Should we toast?"

  "To what?" I ask, raising my own mug.

  "That we're moving in together? That we didn't have an Apocalypse? That good things can actually happen?" He suggests. "Belief in the impossible? Faith? The miracle that is in front of me in the shape of a woman?"

  "How about we toast to all those who have passed away, and to all the strange coincidences that always brought us together?"

  We clink our mugs together and take a sip of our coffees. A cloud must float away from the sun because light pours over the two of us and I feel the warmth envelop me. For a second, I feel this rush of love inside of me, but I couldn't tell you if it's from sharing this time with Aaron or something more divine.

  All I know is that love is worth all of the bad things in life. Love is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, the only thing left when everything else is obliterate
d.

  * * *

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  Acknowledgments

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: BMW, Glock, Walther Arms, Colt, Kalashnikov, Fiddler on the Roof

  Also by Charlotte Raine

  Do You Want To Play

  * * *

  Grace Ellery Series

  Teacher Beware FREE (Book 1)

  Disturbed Mind (Book 2)

  * * *

  Grant & Daniels Series

  Midnight Sun (Book 1)

  Devil’s Dawn (Book 2)

  Blood Moon (Book 3)

  Complete Series Box Set

  * * *

  The Gun Runner - Short Story Series

  Major Threat (Book 1)

  Trigger Point (Book 2)

  Safe At Last (Book 3)

  Complete Series Box Set

  About the Author

  Charlotte Raine is a best selling romantic suspense author. She lives near Vail, Colorado with her cat Jackson. If she isn’t writing her next novel she is skiing, meditating, gardening or chatting up the locals at her favorite coffee shops. If you are ever in the high country of Colorado look for her at Yeti’s Grind or Loaded Joe’s.