Deceitful Moon (41 page)

Who
is
guarding who here?

The cops and the
Detroit
FBI office had sent out another APB on Argyle after they had gone to Forester’s home to verify a scene Manny hated to think about. Argyle had done what he
’d
claimed
,
and Al Forester would be shattered forever
, h
is wife and
mother
embedded
eternally
in the violent, psychotic legacy
of
Argyle.

The agent in charge told Manny he’d never seen anything like
it
and never wanted to again. The walls had been painted in blood
to taunt
law enforcement
, Manny
in particular
,
and
to make
it clear
Argyle
could do whatever he wanted.
The agent
could barely speak about
Forester’s
wife
, how Argyle had posed
her
at the dinner table. The man was in tears
,
and Manny told him to stop. He needed no more fodder for nightmares.

Of course, the
Feds
hadn’t found
Argyle
,
and Manny was beginning
to wonder
if Argyle had made a pac
t
with the Devil
, the real one.

Louise had driven home and barely said a word. She was usually so supportive, so
“
let’s
get
to
the
next
thing
”
like. But not today, and it wasn’t only today.

He’d seen her change little by little since they’d returned home from the cruise. The breast cancer scare had taken a toll, but she had let that go as a non-issue.
W
hen she had seen the rose petals that Argyle had somehow gotten in her purse, something changed
. S
he’d
become more internal, more sullen. She confessed to him one night after
they had made
love that she didn’t think anyone was really safe from people like Argyle. He tried to reassure her
. S
he
kissed him
and turned over.

M
aybe she was right. No matter how hard he tried, he might not b
e enough to keep the demons away, p
articularly
of
the human
variety
.

Jen had sat in the back, staring out the window, occasionally wiping away tears.
He
had hardly been able to
stand it.
No physical pain
would
ever match that
moment
. He promised that he would never se
e his daughter like that again.

“So
,
Sampson
, what should I do?” he whispered.

The black Lab raised his head, lifting his ears at the same time, giving Manny his best
“
you’re on your own
”
look, and then flopped back down.

“Thanks
,
Buddy.”

Manny got up and moved gingerly to the third bedroom and pushed open the door without turning on the light. Argyle had invaded his home
,
and in the process
,
violated his wife in a way that was akin to rape.
It could’ve been worse. But Argyle wanted Manny to know he was in no hurry, that he would operate on his own schedule, and Manny was helpless to stop him.

The anger began to boil,
but wasn’t that what Argyle wanted,
even
fed on?
H
e
pressed
the anger
down. It wouldn’t help matters
,
and the emotional yo-yo would only delve deeper into the brain screw Argyle wanted to administer. Besides, becoming angry, out of control
,
wasn’t why he was here. He needed reassurance that what he was going to do tomorrow was the right thing. Nothing like a little visual reinforcement. Not to mention, he was
curiously
drawn to the
crawlspace
. It spoke to him, even condemned him
for not being a better husband and father, and he wanted to face his accuser.

He stared at the area rug, waiting for the self-persecution to begin, but something halted the voices before they began.

The throw rug was
usually lined up
directly
on
the door over the crawlspace.
Manny frowned. It wasn’t lined up properly, not centered.
He
pulled the carpet to the side, grimacing.
He dropped to his knees
, felt for the latch, then
pushed the door. It popped up about an inch. He pulled it open, resting it gently against the hardwood floor and stood up.

He stared into the blackness.
His wife’s
unholy prison stared back. It mocked him, speaking with a voice that seemed to come from the very walls and floor themselves.

You let this happen in your own house. What a piece of shit husband and father you are.

Some Guardian of the Universe. You can’t even protect your family.

Sending
the voices
scampering
away wasn’t
the
proble
m
; t
he truth was another matter completely. He started to reach for the trapdoor and realized all of the voices hadn’t been stilled
,
t
hat the pit had something else to say
. H
e felt it.
H
e kneeled to
get a closer look. Not at all sure why, just that he should. There! In the damning black, he
noticed a
tiny
glint of light reflecting
through
the
blackness
. He blinked,
did it again,
but it was still there.

What the hell?

He went to the kitchen and pulled the large flashlight from the pantry.

Returning t
o the entranceway of the crawl
space,
Sampson
at his heels, he
dropped back to his knees, leaned over, and
shined the powerful beam
in the direction of
the
fairy-like
glimmer of light.

Chapter-73

Alex struggled out of the thick recliner and turned off the fifty-inch
-
wide
plasma screen. It was good to catch up on the shows he’d DVR’d the last week
.
H
owever, it had kept him up later than he intended. Still
Bones
and
Criminal Minds
were worth it, even if it was just to laugh at how forensic science was portrayed. He wished, in his world, that things would move that fast. That particulates would stay rooted in a bone cut for months.
Or that DNA testing only took less than a half hour.
But he supposed Hollywood had to
put
everything together in less than forty-five minutes, so he let some of it slide. Good water
-
cooler stuff just the same.

Walking to the kitchen, he
pulled out a tablespoon, scooped
a glop of peanut butter
,
and sucked it
clean. He then
turned to the refrigerator
,
grabbed the milk jug
,
and took a monstrous
swig to wash
down
the peanut butter
. His wife Barb would kill him if she saw
the swig
. But she was sleeping
,
so
he was safe.

Reaching for the light, h
e took one last look a
t
his badge and gun sitting on the shelf above the dishwasher. They
were constant, real reminders that
he was a cop. It still gave him a bit of
a
thrill to have that fact register. Not bad for a kid who grew up afraid of everything. He was
n’t
like Manny
, b
ut he did
other
important things to save lives
,
and that worked for him.

His thoughts channeled to his good friend.
No
peace seemed to be his MO
.

Sophie had called him
to talk
about the incident at the ballgame and
to see if they could help
, but
he told her that Manny
had assured him
there was nothing
else
they could do and had instructed them to stay home
. T
he ladies and he
were fine
,
he had said,
and
he would
see
Alex and Sophie
in the morning.
Sophie hated no for an answer, but respected Manny on this one.

A
nondescript
feeling of unrest tapped him on the shoulder. Alex wondered where this was all headed.
Maybe Manny really had more than his fill of
the detective life
. More uneasiness. He didn’t want that to be true
,
but o
nly time would tell.

The phone rang just as he flipped off the kitchen light. It
s
ang again
,
and he swore. Late-night calls were never good, ever.

He looked at the caller ID. It was from the office.

“Hello.”

“Oh my God, oh my God,”
Buzzy
Dancer was in full
geek
mod
e
.

“Slow down, kid. What’s going on?”

“I
. . .
I
. . .
well
,
you know that other phone number? Oh my gosh
. . .
hol
e
y mol
e
y
. . .”

“
Buzzy
! Stop. Take a breath. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Okay. I forgot my laptop
,
so I came back to the office to get it and decided to see if I had anymore e-mails or stuff
,
and guess what
. . .
oh my gosh
. . .
”

“How many Red
B
ulls?”

“What? Only three
. . .
o
h
,
I get it.”

She took a deep
breath
,
and let it out
slowly
, in the vein of
winding down
near
the end of Yoga class.

“Better. Anyway
,
I had
a
message from the pay-as-you-go phone company. They ID’d the
coordinates
of that call
from the other day
. So I found that
location
.
Very weird.
Then they did one better. They traced the GPS in the phone. So I triangulated the towers based on that info and found the closest address to where the phone is now.”

“Great. But can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“No. Good Lord, no. I’m going to pee my pants. No. Wait. I think I’ll be okay.”

“
Buzzy
, spit it out.”

“The first set of coordinates had the phone no f
u
rther than twenty or twenty-five yards from
. . .
your house.”

“What? My house?”

“Ye
p
, but I thought that it could be a coincidence. So I checked the other triangulations and boom
. . .
three other calls came from somewhere near your house.”

“So
, the killer’s
one of my neighbors?” said Alex, angst building in his voice.

“I don’t think so because of where the phone is now.”

“Come on
,
Buzzy
!”