M Sellars - Blood Moon

“No. Just a few miles further west of where they found ‘er car, actually. Looks like she was raped and then strangled. Might’ve been a carjackin’ or somethin’ of that sort that went south. That’s not confirmed yet, but it definitely looks like a separate crime. They’re already workin’ it on that basis. Gotta get an ID from next of kin too, but that’s just a formality. They’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s her.”

I let out a short, bemused snort. “It’s a black swan.”

“No,” he replied. “Like I just told ya’, it’s unrelated. Nothin’ ta’ do with this whole deal as far as they can tell.”

“I know,” I explained. “I don’t mean what you’re thinking. Black swan is a label given to a theory of improbability regarding unexpected, hard to predict, high impact events that are beyond the normal expectations or assumptions.

“We assumed Judith had fallen prey to this particular killer because she fit the victim profile and because of the time frame in which she went missing. It made sense. However, we couldn’t predict that she would in reality be the victim of a wholly different, but no less heinous crime… Her death is more or less a black swan.”

“Yeah, well, call it whatever ya’ want, it’s still a friggin’ homicide.”

“Has anyone told Barbara?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “A coupl’a minutes ago. She ain’t takin’ it too well, but then, who would…”

“Nobody with a heart.”

“Yeah… So about that whole swan thing… Ya’ think maybe the Twilight Zone was tryin’ ta’ tell ya’ about somethin’ else besides our Count Dracula wannabe in there? Maybe warn ya’ about Albright?”

“I wish I knew…” I mumbled. “All I can say is that this particular juxtaposition of reality and the ethereal definitely gives me something else to make my head hurt…”

“Yeah… Well… Sorry about that.”

“I’ll get over it… I hope.”

“Well, maybe this’ll help a bit,” he offered. “The crime scene guys cleared up one of Doc Sanders’ mysteries. Found a pair of slip joint pliers with fake vampire teeth epoxied to ‘em. Pretty much explains the postmortem bite marks with no DNA.”

“Yeah, I guess it does…” I muttered.

“Found a boom-box with a CD of weird-ass chanting in it too,” he added. “That’d prob’ly cover what ya’ thought ya’ heard back at the morgue.”

I sighed but didn’t verbally respond.

“You sure you’re okay, white man?” he asked again.

Eventually I breathed, “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he replied then paused for a second. “So, what’re you two starin’ at?”

“The moon, Ben,” my wife told him.

“Yeah, what about it? It about ta’ crash into us or somethin’?”

“Take a good look at it,” she answered.

He was quiet for a moment then said, “Okay, it’s a full moon. That’s like a big deal for you or somethin’, right?”

“You don’t notice anything else?”

He shrugged with the tone of his voice. “It looks kinda red and the one edge is kinda dark, so? Fuckin’ air pollution and clouds.”

“No,” I said. “It’s actually a partial lunar eclipse.”

“No shit?” he mumbled.

“No shit,” Felicity replied.

“That kinda rare or somethin’?”

“What rock have you been living under?” she asked. “It happens anywhere from two to five times each year.”

“Hey, the moon crap is your thing, not mine. But if it’s that common, what’s the big effin’ deal?”

Still staring upward I asked, “Would you like to know what else it’s called, Ben?”

“Lemme guess, the moon?” he replied with audible sarcasm.

“A blood moon,” I said.

He was quiet for several heartbeats before he muttered, “Fuck me…”

“Yeah. That’s closer to the words I had picked out,” I replied.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “So it’s weird and all, but coincidences happen. You’ve said so yourself.”

“Maybe…”

“You don’t think it is?”

“I really can’t say,” I told him. “But the alternative isn’t a pretty thought.”

“You’re soundin’ all doom and gloom there, white man.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“You absolutely certain he’s okay, Firehair?” he asked after a substantial pause.

“He’s just tired, Ben,” she answered. “Like he said, it’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, no shit. Speakin’ of which, are you two ready to get outta here? I can get ya’ a ride.”

“You’re staying?” Felicity asked.

“Kinda hafta,” he told her. “But you two are free and clear. And if ya’ wanna just head straight home, I can make a call, and I’m sure your Jeep will be fine till tomorrow mornin’.”

“Aye, I think maybe that would be a good idea.”

“Well c’mon,” he said. “I’ll get ya’ hooked up.”

I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the blushing disk in the sky, but after Felicity tugged at my arm for a second time, I dropped my gaze and followed her. As we crossed the yard, skirting past the county medical examiner on his way in to retrieve the bodies, our path intersected with Sergeant Madden’s.

“Were you watching the eclipse?” she asked.

“Yes,” Felicity answered for the both of us, glancing up at it then back to the officer.

Madden glanced upward quickly as well and then back to us. “My kid is doing a paper on it for school,” she offered before clucking her tongue and regarding us with a quizzical look dressing her features. “You know, maybe it’s none of my business, you being with Major Case and all, but mind if I ask exactly what kind of consultants you two are?”

“Independent,” I said, giving her the first mundane word that came to mind. “I’m afraid what we do is a little hard to explain.”

She cocked her head to the side and gave me a hard look. Then, like the state trooper had done back at the rest area, she stared at the ground for a second as she twice repeated my name, as much to herself as us. Looking back up at my face with recognition flashing in her eyes, she slowly shook a finger at me.

“Wait… Rowan Gant. I knew I’d heard that name before. You’re the…”

Psychic… Witch… Neither of the labels really mattered to me right now. So I cut her off before either word could pass her lips, and with a lifetime’s worth of weariness creeping into my voice I said, “Yeah. Whether I like it or not, apparently I am.”

Friday, April 21

7:49 P.M.

Flipdoodles Restaurant

Delmar Loop

University City, Missouri

“What the hell kinda name is Flipdoodles?” Ben asked.

“Ben!” Constance quietly admonished, reaching to the side and slapping him on the shoulder.

“What?” my friend replied, raising his eyebrows and splaying out his hands in surrender. “I’m just askin’ a question.”

This was the first time we had been out with the petite FBI agent since the shooting in December that had left her in critical condition for a time. She was healed for the most part and back to work now. The Bureau had her on desk duty for the time being, but considering how amazingly well she seemed to be doing I seriously doubted the assignment would be permanent.

“You’re really looking good, Constance,” I said, picking up my drink and raising it toward her. “Here’s to your continued health.”

“ Slainte,” Felicity said, picking up her drink as well.

“Thank you,” Mandalay said with a smile after joining us in the toast, then brushed a shock of brunette hair back from her eyes as she settled her tumbler back to the table. “I’m feeling good. I still tire a bit quicker than I used to, but I’m getting stronger. I really think getting back to work has helped.”