Chapter 9

of Strange Moon Rising

Previously: Riley plots how to save Tristian. A Craft Fair turns into a wake—no one has any relevant info about the murder, but they have plenty to say about Old Mooney. John Doe’s autopsy fails to confirm an identity.

The average greasy spoon came with cracked booths, sticky menus, and cloudy tap water—Rosie’s Diner never got that memo. It had the feel of a place nice enough to be a catch-all special-event dinner spot. Who knew diner kitsch could look so upscale? At half-past seven, Riley dodged groups waiting to be seated, badge drawing eyes. The din of conversation dipped as people leaned over to whisper to their neighbors.

Shauna sat close to a River Rock fireplace dominating the far wall. Riley sunk down into the seat opposite her like she was trying to become one with the furniture. “This town is going to give me a complex.”

Shauna’s laugh turned more heads. “It’ll die down soon enough.”

“Sorry I’m late. Where’s Officer Kipts?”

“He’s on his way. Work thing held him up.”

“Me too. Andy called me out to help him with a couple roadkills. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

Shauna waved a hand and stirred a packet of sugar into her coffee. Whatever she meant to say next was quickly forgotten as she looked over Riley’s shoulder, face lighting up like a struck match.

Ben Kipts arrived in his hiking boots, green uniform pants, and heavy Forest Service jacket. His dark hair, tanned completion, and obvious muscle tone lent him the appearance of a Slavic superhero. He embraced Shauna in a friendly hug.

Riley stood and offered her hand.

“You must be Riley,” he said.

She clucked her tongue. “What gave me away?”

“The badge, your hair.” He pointed at each in turn. “You’re the talk of the town. And Shauna told me she’d invited you.” His smile revealed a large chip in his right front tooth.

Shauna sputtered into her coffee. “Did that happen today?”

Ben poked at it and winced. “A couple days ago. I’ve got an appointment next week to fix it. Demonic squirrels, that’s all I have to say.” He sat in the chair next to Shauna. “Have you ordered yet?”

Once they’d put in their food, Ben pulled a notepad out and went down the grisly list of suspicious wounds, speaking low to avoid the nearest tables from overhearing. “Ignoring the fact that this took place in a motel room, if we were looking at an animal attack, there would be bite markings in addition to the clawing. You both know how much of a mess the corpse is, but it’s almost possible to make out five coinciding wound paths per injury—that and the claw spacing doesn’t match any of our regional predators. A fully grown mountain lion might create the kind of tearing to the abdomen we’re seeing, but there would be strictly four claws, a hell of a lot of bite markings, and evidence of scavenging.”

Riley rubbed at her temples. “Okay, it’s established no one opened and closed the door after their pet cougar. So we’re looking for someone with a fixation on predators. Someone who could have made some kind of mountain lion claw… apparatus?”

The noise Ben made suggested she was on the wrong track. “This looks more like a fake wolf attack to me. If the killing blow had been a crushing wound to the back of the neck, mountain lion would be your ticket.”

Blaming the corpse’s condition on a mountain lion, wolf—any animal really—was the easier sell. Riley wasn’t an expert on criminal psychology, but the derangement it must take to do something like that to another human being… only she hadn’t gotten an echo of madness off the corpse. Hard signature to miss, too—like rotting meat in a hot car. A sane person doesn’t fake a violent wolf attack on a man, so what was she missing? Too bad she couldn’t pose that question to anyone else without them questioning her own sanity. Oh, you didn’t ‘taste’ madness, so the killer’s sane? Redirect the search! Yeah, more like redirect Riley to a padded cell.

A young, lanky waiter slid their plates in front of them. Riley eyed her eggplant reggiano. It looked fantastic, but her stomach might not be on board after the realizations she was trying to digest. Shauna must have felt similarly, because she stared into the middle distance and worried a curl of her hair between her fingers long enough for her pasta to grow cold.

The dinner crowd had trickled out by the time they’d reached the counter to pay, leaving Rosie’s to fill with night-owl coffee seekers, yawning night-shift workers, and an array of rebellious teenagers. More glances, more questions and mumbled answers. A patron said her name too loudly, turning her head. She caught sight of Shauna’s yellow scarf, puddled on the floor beside their table, and made her way over, plucking it up and shaking it out.

A watery cough came before, “Excuse me.”

Riley faced the woman, who peered at her badge and nodded.

“You’re the new officer,” she whispered, pulling her wrinkled face into a conspiratorial grimace. “That murder at Clark’s. Just awful.” She glanced around, clutching the bottom of her frayed sweater. “Do you know who it is yet? The murderer? Do you have any suspects?”

She blinked, wishing she’d left her badge in the car, working-dinner be damned. “I can’t discuss details of an open investigation.”

“Oh, bother.” The woman hooked a hand over Riley’s forearm, squeezing. “In any matter, you should be looking at those Wolfrun folk. Especially that Luke fellow.”

“Wolfrun folk?”

“Mm.” She dipped her head, rheumy eyes censuring. “Best be careful around your property at night.”

She waited for the bat to clarify. When she didn’t, Riley uttered a simple, “Huh?”

The woman shook her head. “Old Mooney’s land,” she hissed, “it’s on their side. And that scary man—the recluse—he’s your neighbor!”

“Riley?”

The woman released her and scuttled back to her table as Shauna approached.

Shauna slid her scarf around her neck. “Thanks. Ben took care of dinner. What did Dolores want? Did she try to lure you into her book club? Don’t do it. The books they read are drier than sawdust.”

Riley’s laugh followed them out into the night. “She warned me about ‘Wolfrun,’ someone named Luke, and my very scary neighbor.”

“I’ve got to get going,” Ben said when they paused in front of him.

Riley rubbed her tingling hands together to ward off the cold blowing in from the river. “Would you mind taking down a statement to include in the autopsy report, just something saying you’re reasonably confident the victim wasn’t killed by an animal?”

“Not a problem. I’ll get it to you tomorrow.” He hugged Shauna, then surprised Riley by embracing her, too.

“Thank you for dinner,” she called out as he headed away to his truck.

He waved, throwing an “Anytime!” over his shoulder.

Riley elbowed Shauna to get the dreamy look off her face.

To her raised brow, Shauna sighed and said, “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“You shouldn’t take Dolores’s ravings seriously,” Shauna redirected.

“And the people of this so-called Wolfrun?”

“The suburbanites like to separate our town by this imaginary line because some people are a bit eccentric to the north.” A note of half-truth rang through her words, piquing Riley’s curiosity.

“Why call it Wolfrun?”

“It’s closer to the parks, set deeper in the forest, plenty of property with acreage. We’ve got a large gray wolf pack close, which means there are plenty of sightings.” She gave a shrug, suggesting that was that.

“And Luke?”

Shauna waited until they were to their cars to say, “He keeps to himself, sure, but he’s a good guy. He’s close friends with the Logans’ and Ross, so you know he can’t be that bad.” After a brief hesitation, “He’s also happens to be your neighbor.”

“The same neighbor described as the scary recluse?” Riley drawled. “Great.”

Shauna’s soft laugh got lost in the sound of the river’s rapids, but her statement, “I promise you, you have nothing to fear from Luke Singer,” was clear, and—at least in her mind—the truth.

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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. Canva Pro image used in background.