Chapter 29
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. In seven days, Riley will either get her answers or get the hell out of dodge—murder case be damned.
Last Chapter: Kellen’s looking to leave Woodrun and suggests Riley do the same. The unsettling trend of her psychic abilities increasing in strength threatens make her decision for her.
The call sent her to the edge of the town’s suburban sprawl—territory a few streets past the imaginary line dividing Woodrun from Wolfrun. “Morning,” she greeted the woman pacing on the porch of her blue-trimmed craftsman.
“Olivia Henderson. Thank you for coming out here.” Clad in white sweats, hair in a messy bun, she had no Wolfrun eccentricities in sight. They shook hands.
“Officer MacIntyre. Could you tell me about the break-in, Ms. Henderson?”
“Oh, just Olivia, please. Well, nothing was actually taken. You see, I keep a padlock on my shed, and someone cut it, like, with bolt cutters. It’s this way.” Olivia motioned her through the front door.
Riley stepped over a toy dinosaur and clocked the photos of Olivia and a young boy peppering the walls. The kid had the same shock of dark hair sticking up at odd angles. A small lake stretched out for mile beyond the yard. Three docks jutted into the water—one from Olivia’s property, and one from each of her next door neighbors. No other clearings in the forest made it a private oasis for those three alone. Riley tacked a zero on the price-tag she’d imagined for the large home.
Around the side deck, Olivia led Riley to a wooden shed backed up to the high front fencing. “I heard a strange noise a little bit ago and came downstairs. I flicked the light on in the kitchen, and I guess that spooked whoever was out there, because they jumped the fence and ran off.”
A half-truth chimed somewhere in there. Riley held her breath, waiting for her truth-seeking to throw her for a loop like it had earlier. When nothing happened, she sighed and pulled out her notepad. “Could you describe them for me? Young? Male or female? Clothing?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t get a good look, only heard someone running through the leaves.” Olivia glanced at the closed window to their right. “I’d left that window cracked. That’s how I heard them.”
Riley tapped her pen against her thigh as she waited for the echo of the lie to die down. What reason would she have to lie about hearing someone run away? “Have you had trouble with people using your property to get to this lake?”
“No, there’s a larger lake with better beaches on the other side of the neighborhood.”
“And you’re sure nothing was stolen?”
“Positive. I checked.” Olivia pointed a manicured finger at the metal winking in the grass. “There’s the padlock.”
Riley snapped a picture with her phone, pulled a loose glove, and used it to bag the lock. She motioned to the door to the small shed. “Can I take a look?”
“Uh-huh, but nothing was taken. It’s just tools and an extra freezer.”
She edged the door open and peeked inside. Gardening equipment took up the shelving along the left wall and a six-foot long chest freezer took up the right. Detective Rosoitz called them body-stashers, though he’d admitted he’d never stumbled upon any frozen corpses. Riley popped the lid and found… abalone, mussels, and clams? Fresh, too. The smell of the sea hit her like a slap in the face.
At her questioning look, Olivia chuckled, “Right, yeah, we’re from the west coast. My son and I eat our weight in them and feel closer to home, you know?”
Riley listened for another lie, but her explanation came through clear. “This is the amount you had before the break-in? It doesn’t look low?”
She peered at the pounds of sea food tucked into the ice. “Nope, it’s all there.” Olivia cocked her head. “Was that the gate?”
Riley made to follow as she slipped out of view, but the woman’s cheerful, “Luke!” stopped her short of the door. She took a deep breath and held it for eight seconds. Must keep it professional.
Luke stilled when she appeared in his line of sight.
Olivia clung to him like a limpet. “Someone cut the lock to my shed. I called the police, too, because I figured it would be good to have it reported, just in case.”
“Why don’t you run to the General Store and grab another padlock? I’ll check out the shed and the rest of the property and Officer MacIntyre will make sure it’s on record, okay?” His focus hadn’t left Riley.
“I might buy some of those motion sensor lights too.”
Luke flashed her a smile. “That’s a great idea.”
“You both just let yourselves out through the gate when you’re done—you don’t need to wait on me. Thank you so much!” Olivia waved and bounced into her home.
“Luke,” Riley tried.
He parroted her tone as he approached, stopping a foot away. “Riley. Nice to see you.”
“Let me guess. She called you before 911?”
His shrug sent her blood boiling. “She left me a message. Do you mind if I take a look?” Luke pointed to the shed.
“Knock yourself out.”
He skirted around her, emerged half a minute later, brow furrowed, and tracked a path to the fence.
Hands on her hips, Riley asked, “Find something?”
He touched the top of the fencing before walking back into her personal space. “Nothing was taken, so there’s not much to do.”
“Guess not.” Riley turned on her heel and hightailed it out of Olivia Henderson’s backyard.
The sound of footsteps hurrying after her set off a tick in her jaw. She kept going, rounding the back of her car with the goal to get in and drive away without wasting another word and stopped short when she found Luke already beside the driver’s-side door. Damn the long-legged bastard.
“Riley—” he began.
“No.”
“I’m trying to apologize.”
She leaned forward, jabbing a finger into his denim jacket. “Did you puncture Tristian’s break lines?”
He rocked back on his heels like she’d punched rather than poked. “No. Why would you even think—”
Relief slumped Riley’s shoulders as soon as the denial rang true. “You asked me if I would know he was in danger not two hours beforehand.”
Luke grimaced. “Fair point.”
What would she have done had he lied? Arrested him? On what charge? The most worrying issue put to bed, Riley still had a thousand other bones to pick. And a shift to get back to. Into her radio, she called, “For 23-18.”
“Go ahead.”
“Show 180 returning to service.”
“Copy.”
She motioned for Luke to let her past. At the first sign he meant to protest, Riley snapped, “Are you going to tell me what I’m missing about the case yet? No? Then move.”
“If you’d—”
“I gave Ross seven days, six now, for you all to get your heads out of your asses or send me packing. Every time you step into my path, my resolve to hold out gets a little weaker. If the next words out of your mouth aren’t a detailed explanation for why you’re impeding a murder investigation, then I don’t want to hear it. I’d like to get through my double with a little sanity intact.”
He hesitated, dark eyes scanning her face, and backed up without another word.
Halfway down the street, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Luke standing where she’d left him, hand to his forehead.
Maybe he might have explained wh— “No,” she said aloud, killing her train of thought. Unless it’d been immediate answers to every single question Riley could think of… just, no.
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.