Chapter 26
Of Strange Moon Rising
Previously: Woodrun's mayor pays a visit. John Doe is ID'd by the same name Luke pulled from the train-hopper. A spike on her radar proves Tristian's still a target.
Woodrun’s firehouse sat a couple miles west of the station. Set back on a side street, it wasn’t visible from Main. Riley parked clear of the two open bays fitted with classic glass-paned rolling doors. A fire engine and a heavily equipped truck took up the spaces inside. Voices drew her up the metal staircase along the right wall to a loft-like area with a sitting room of mismatched couches and coffee tables. A kitchen dominated the left half, centered with a large, high-top metal table, where Greg, Tristian, and two other men in ‘Volunteer Firefighter’ T-shirts were seated.
Greg bounced up and hustled her over to the two firemen she hadn’t yet met, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to squeeze her to his side. “Vic, Dan, meet Red.”
She squeaked out a “hello,” squished as she was. Riley took Victor’s calloused palm in a firm shake and startled. A feathery sensation brushed around her wrist and began to climb. She squinted at where their skin pressed together, seeing nothing, and glanced up to see if he felt the same odd reaction to their contact—eyes a shade lighter than the rich brown of his skin held only mild curiosity. He cocked a brow when she failed to let go after the appropriate amount of time. She released him and cleared her throat.
Nothing happened when she shook Daniel’s hand.
“I showed her photos of the pancake incident,” Greg told him, prompting a blush that exaggerated his boyish charm.
Tristian took her from Greg’s hold and surprised her with a tight hug, dispelling the last dregs of pain from her head. If she’d had any doubt over whether he’d known about her part in his rescue, it died right then.
Riley pulled back and eyed him. “What happened?”
“My breaks went out,” Tristian murmured.
“Where’s your truck?”
“Around back. I was able to coast it to a stop against a tree.”
“I’ll give it a work-over.” To Greg, she asked, “Can I have a minute?” Riley waited until the others trailed down the stairs to say, “I’ve got a possible ID on our John Doe. The rental company got back about the submerged car—Ross told you about that, right?”
He nodded. “Black sedan in Lodger.”
“They sent over a scan of the driver’s license. I’m pretty sure it’s a match, but I’ll wait to move forward until everyone’s seen it and agrees. His name’s Peter Chappell, from Bozeman.”
Greg blinked. “No shit? You thinking dental records to confirm?”
“Yep.”
“When we notify next of kin, maybe they’ll tell us why he was in Woodrun and who might’ve wanted him dead.”
“Here’s hoping.”
He gave her a good-on-you tap to the arm and took a few steps towards the stairs before turning back. “You were out at the motel with Luke today. You guys get anything useful to add to this break in the case?”
The grimace Riley tried to hide crept through anyway, by Greg’s answering frown. “Let’s… not get into that right now.” Or think about it. She had a job to do.
“Oh-kay. Well, please call me if you,” he waved a paw of a hand around, “get a feeling about Tristian again. No matter how small. It’s a relief to have backup on this, you know?” Greg descended, leaving Riley to stuff her panic down in peace.
Not only did he have too much confidence in her having abilities, he had too much confidence in said abilities. After a couple rounds of box breathing, Riley headed downstairs.
The fire chief, Tony, had poked his head out of his office and trailed the others outside, so she had five firemen hovering behind her as she took a look at Tristian’s baby blue Chevy.
Greg shifted his weight back and forth, bumping Tristian every so often. “My prints are gonna’ be on the hood. Everything looks fine up top. I also touched the break lines in the wheel well—they’re punctured.”
“Got it.” Riley gingerly pulled the camera out from under the car. She moved on to print collection, finished around the wheel, and moved to check under the hood. “Where was this parked last night?”
Tristian shrugged. “My driveway. I’d packed the garage with everything from the attic for the repairs, otherwise it’d’ve been in there.”
“So it’s the first time you’ve driven it ‘since the fire?” She stretched herself over the engine, slipped, and banged her head on the hood when she caught herself.
Tristian winced in sympathy. “Yeah. Tony got me the keys during the damage assessment. They’re old, the breaks, but I did notice they weren’t right first thing. I had a soft petal, so I pumped it a few times. Didn’t think it was serious, maybe the calipers. I was a couple miles out when I realized I’d pretty much lost them. I called Greg—he’d dropped me off, so he was behind me. He used his flashy lights, made sure my path was clear to the station.”
Riley extracted herself from the car’s innards. “Seems kinda’ half-hearted after the arson.”
Tristian shook his head. “If they’d gone before I’d taken the steep curve off Heron onto Main, I would’ve ended up off a thirty-foot cliff into Lodger River. You know how the speed limit goes from sixty to twenty-five around that corner? No? I guess you haven’t been out that way yet. Town council still hasn’t voted on that change. Moral of the story—I was lucky.”
Greg scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Can’t really tell when they were tampered with, you know? I’d guess sometime this morning.”
‘Will you know if Tristian’s in danger again?’ echoed in her head. Luke had asked that no more than two hours ago. He wouldn’t set up some sort of test for her, right? Not one that could’ve actually harmed Tristian. She glanced at Greg—if he had, Riley’d played right into it.
“Looks like you’ll still be chauffeuring me around,” Tristian sighed.
Greg’s face scrunched up. “I told you I would.”
“I know, I—”
He puffed up. “You’re obviously still a target.”
“I underst—”
“You’re not burdening me.”
“We—”
“You’re my coworker, and my friend, and you’re still under police protection. You’ll have to get used to it.”
Tristian tried to voice a response, but Greg retreated to the firehouse, grumbling, before he could. Tony, Victor, and Daniel made various don’t-look-at-me gestures when Tristian turned to them for an explanation. He sighed and made for where Greg had disappeared.
“No,” Riley called after him, “I don’t need any more assistance with the report, thanks.”
The remaining firemen chuckled.
“I’ll get this towed and check around Tristian’s neighborhood. Tell him I’ll let him know when he can have it back.”
Tony patted her shoulder. “You got it.”
Obligatory Legal Stuff:
This chapter is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, locals, and events are coincidental.
No generative AI used. No AI training or scraping allowed.
All rights reserved.
Chapter Title Image created in Canva. Background image from Canva Pro.