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“Luna, there was a note on the brick.”
“A note?”
He hands me a folded piece of paper that looks like it was torn from a small spiral notepad. I open it up to read it and my blood runs cold.
Whores who ignore their children don’t deserve them. They deserve to die.
A cold, clammy sick feeling invades me as I grip the note. Then, without comment, I hobble to the entrance table, grabbing my keys.
“Luna, what are you doing?
“I’m going to get my son!” I literally scream. I don’t know why. He’s done nothing wrong, but each second that ticks by seems like an eternity.
Ben pulls the keys from my shaking hand.
“I’ll have a squad car pick him up. Sit down and let me handle this.”
“Ben, it’s my son,” I plead, feeling helpless.
“He’ll be okay. Go sit down and let me get things in motion.”
I nod, sitting down as my body begins to tremble. The threat was against me, but it mentioned my son. What if they lash out at him? The thought makes me sick to my stomach, and I rush to the bathroom before I vomit on the carpet.
Please let Joshua be okay. God, please let my son be okay…
Gavin
I heard the call go over the two-way for backup at the home of Luna Marshall. I was in the local 911 dispatch office combing through call logs trying to see if there had been any calls by Skylar or other women in the area. I was coming up with a giant goose egg when the call came through about Luna. I got the address and left quickly. I didn’t even think. Fear pummeled me in ways it never has before. I’ve learned that serial killers are never predictable. Even though this guy’s MO is that he usually leaves the area and goes elsewhere, it doesn’t mean he will. The thought that he attacked and maybe killed Luna filled me with a terror that I can’t truly describe.
Flashes of memories slid through my mind the entire drive to her home. Visions of her laughing, holding my hand, her kissing me, her smile and her tears… They’re all right there, so easily recalled that I do it without effort. I drive so fast that I make it to her home barely minutes after the initial call. I’m literally getting out of my vehicle before the sirens from the police car can even be heard in the distance. I go straight to the front door. Sheriff Kingston is standing there on the phone and I don’t imagine the look of irritation on his face when he spots me. It’s clear as day and I don’t really give a fuck either.
“Lodge, what are you doing here? This has nothing to do with your case,” he says, but I ignore him, shouldering my way into Luna’s house and nudging him out of the way without a second look.
“Where’s Luna?”
“Gavin?”
My eyes immediately go to Luna who is sitting on the sofa. Pale faced, she’s holding a hand towel, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. I never could stand Luna crying. Thirteen years hasn’t changed that at all.
“Are you okay, Moonbeam?” the old never-forgotten nickname rolls out without me realizing it. She flinches and I know she wasn’t expecting to hear it, but fuck, I wasn’t actually planning on saying it either.
“Sheriff, we came as soon as we got the call,” a deputy says coming through the door. Luna gets up and moves past me to get to the cops. She’s limping and I frown as I watch her walk.
“Joshua?” she asks. “Did you get my son?”
“Wayne headed to get him, Luna. He’s fine. Cade has both boys at his house, and he knows to be on the lookout for anyone.”
“I want him here,” she says, clearly distraught.
“He’ll be safer at Cade’s until we figure out who is behind this, Luna,” the sheriff says.
He puts his hand on her shoulder, and I have to fight down the urge to knock it off. I know I don’t have that right anymore, but that doesn’t change how I feel. That’s when she shifts on her foot, and I know it’s not my imagination that she’s limping now.
“I don’t care, Ben. I want my son. I want him here with me,” she snarls, and it’s the first time I’ve heard Luna sound so demanding, and I can admit there’s something about it I like. I look down at her foot. She’s standing gingerly on it and putting most of her weight on her toes. I can see blood, dried and fresh running along the bottom of her foot.
“Why are you bleeding?” I growl, before I can stop myself. I ignore them all, picking Luna up in my arms and carrying her over to a chair.
“Lodge, put her down. This is not your place,” Kingston yells, or at least he says something along those lines. I must confess that I don’t really care what he says. I’m too busy wondering why Luna is bleeding.
