Chapter 28
Of Strange Moon Rising
Previously: Riley “Red” MacIntyre left the city for small-town Montana after an injury on the job. Determined to give Woodrun a chance to honor her beloved grandmother’s final wishes, Riley joins the town’s police department. It starts out well, aside from one coworker who’s holding a candle for Rasmussen—the cop she replaced. An animalistic murder derails her orientation and leads to questions her boss, coworkers, and townsfolk are reluctant to answer, when they’re not outright lying about the strangest things. There’s a target on the back of local volunteer firefighter, Tristian, causing Riley’s ‘talents’ to flare dangerously; her neighbor, Luke, has the town’s respect, but undermines her ability to work the case at every turn; and worst of all, people are catching on to her psychic abilities.
Last Chapter: After it becomes clear she’s not getting all the info she needs regarding the murder investigation, Riley nearly quits her new job, but her Chief offers enough promises to string her along.
The triple-tone for Woodrun’s personal line crackled out from her radio early into the first half of her double patrol. A harried Kellen said, “I need an assist down at the main docks near the—Goddammit Dayton, put that down!—near the Bait Shack.”
Riley radioed back, “On my way,” loud enough to be heard over the yelling in the background, and pulled out of the elementary school’s speed-trap. Ten minutes later, she crunched through a leaf-strewn path to the docks that served as the main recreational access for a wide, calm swath of Lodger River. Pops of florescent orange and yellow kayaks weaved between blue and silver charter boats. It seemed most of Woodrun wanted out on the water before the season’s first snow.
“Freddy, so help me… Red! Thank God! They’re like mongooses. Mangeese? Mangoose? Whatever-the-fuck the plural is. Help me keep them apart until the hooker gets here.”
Riley blinked. “The… who?”
“Dr. Ted Finch. Pro with fishing-related incidents, like fish hooks. I’ve already called him.”
“Ah.” She helped Kellen get enough slack on Henry Dayton and Freddy Dupont’s lines to prevent anyone from tearing out a hunk of flesh. Freddy’s hook went through the skin between Henry’s thumb and forefinger, while Henry’s had embedded in Freddy’s thigh, but neither man would let go of their respective fishing poles.
“I’m not falling for that again,” Henry muttered. “Last time I got a line on Freddy—accidentally, of course—my favorite rod ended up in the drink.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the other man. “His also took a bath—again, accidentally—but he was able to save his. Asshole cut my line.”
“I’m not sorry for saving my nose over your precious St. Croix,” Freddy called back. “And I paid for your new one! You still back-cast like a flailing idiot.”
“Coming from a habitual short-caster—”
On it went. Riley echoed Kellen’s relieved sigh as the hooker—a reed-thin graying man—hurried down the floating ramp towards them. He set his bag down and planted his hands on his hips. “Would we like to draw straws to see who goes first?”
Out of the doctor’s way, Kellen broached, “Have you been into the office this morning?”
“Just for a few minutes before hitting patrol. Didn’t see anyone else.” More like she’d actively avoided them.
“Ross said the subpoena for the dental records’ went out.”
Riley flashed back to the last conversation she’d had with their chief. “That’s good.”
A dark brow inched up. “What’s that face for?”
“You were right about the locals verses outsiders thing.” She looked for smugness in his answering half-smile and found commiseration.
“You’ve had a run-in with Luke Singer.”
A huff caught in her throat. “A couple, yeah.”
“I try my best to avoid him.”
Funny. Out of all the people she’d met so far, Riley avoided Kellen the most, but as she stood there, listening to the fishermen bitch about the sting of antiseptic, she thought back on their interactions and found she’d never caught him in a lie, not even a half-truth.
Kellen hung a hand around the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for openings in departments across the country, though I’d appreciate it if you’d not mention that to Ross or the Logans.’ Maybe you should, too. Somewhere warm, with a large enough population so not everyone’s up in everyones’ business.”
She knew better than to ask if he’d follow his buddy Rasmussen out to California—they were getting along nicely. Nodding slowly, Riley frowned at her boots. “Wouldn’t look great on my resume….”
“You could always go back your last precinct.”
“Yeah.” They’d take her back in a heartbeat, too. Staying in Woodrun would depend on Ross, on Greg and Andy, and most annoyingly, on Luke. Riley hadn’t factored Kellen into the equation because he was as out of the loop on Wolfrun as she. “I’ll think about it after we close this case.” She took his answering grunt for an agreement and turned her attention to Dayton and Dupont, who’d been de-hooked and bandaged up quicker than it’d taken them to skewer each other. A quick goodbye saw Dr. Finch hurrying away before he could get caught up in their budding argument.
“That’s strategy, Henry. The bigger fish hide under the dock—”
The hiss and crackle of, “23-18-180,” interrupted.
Riley pulled her radio. “Go ahead.”
“Possible B&E. Standby for address.”
“A burglary this early in the morning?” Henry shook his head. “What’s this world coming to?”
Freddy’s, “To hell in a hand-basket,” earned a snort.
Kellen trailed her to the parking lot, yelling, “Keep the hooks out of each other for the rest of the day, please,” at their backs. He stopped her before she reached her car. “Think about what I said. If this case gets more complicated, it might be best to put Woodrun in your rearview mirror.”
A trembling quality to his words had Riley straining her ears, but they never quite tipped over into the distortion of a half-truth. “Cold-case complicated?”
“That, or…” he shrugged. “Do you really want to get sucked into the local bullshit?”
That’s exactly what she’d asked for. “I’d like to know the local bullshit relevant to close this case.” To start.
Kellen’s nod held resignation. “Good luck.”
He knew more about Wolfrun than their coworkers assumed, but unlike Riley, he didn’t appear interested in unearthing every bit of it. She pulled back onto Main, trying to avoid thinking about the trembling in his parting words, like an echo of meaning underneath what he’d said. Catching even a hint of it pushed further than her abilities in truth-seeking allowed. First, the intense death-dreamings, and now this increased sensitivity—a disturbing trend. Which was worse? Hammered by constant noise on her radar or dangerously attuned to infrequent spikes? Either would kill her with time.
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.