The Killing Moon: A Novel

They were all smiles. Maddox was pretending hard that Bucky wasn't getting under his skin, but the truth was so obvious, and so good.

The rear screen door squealed. A plainclothes trooper looked out. "Maddox? The K-9 units are here. Hess wants you over at the bridge."

Maddox thumbed back at his patrol car. "I was on my way home."

The trooper said, "You're the one who found the bike. Hess wants you there." He turned and went back inside, the door whacking shut.

Maddox cursed under his breath. That surprised Bucky. So Maddox wasn't sucking up to them after all. He was their lackey. This gave Bucky another quiet thrill.

"K-9?" he said, almost laughing before he could get it out. "I guess somebody's got to scoop up all that dog shit."

That broke up the others.

"Put that paper diploma of yours to good use," said Bucky, another kick in the shins.

But Maddox didn't sulk. Instead, he came up eye to eye, his voice dropping so that only Bucky could hear him. "Your day is coming."

Bucky tried hard to keep up his mirth. Maddox's eyes were eager and hard, like he had more to say but preferred to sit on his information like a fucking hen on a warm egg.

Bluffing. All bullshit. Maddox knew nothing. Smug fuck.

Bucky burned so hot that he had to remind himself that he was in fact winning here. That everything, from Frond being murdered to Pinty going down, was falling his way. Like a giant hand clearing a path for him. Everything meant to be. All he had to do was sit back, and Maddox would be next. Then absolutely nothing would stand in his way.

Maddox turned and walked to the stairs, Bucky resurrecting his grin for the others. "I'm gonna miss him," Bucky said. "I truly am."

34

MADDOX

MADDOX DROVE FAST, setting aside his disgust for Pail in order to focus on the missing Frankie Sculp. That sullen kid with the dyed-gold hair. His hungry eyes and shoved-in face, as though the doctor had flat-handed him at birth. His face rippled with acne, his skin the color and consistency of a peeled-apart peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"He knows a way, he said. All the cops. He's going to turn this shit-fucking town upside down."

Maddox shouldn't have let him go. Shouldn't have tossed him back for fear of scaring away the bigger fish

But then again, it hardly mattered what Maddox or anyone else did. Truth was, Frankie had the mark on him. Maddox had seen it before. The kid had been bred to cut a path to his own self-destruction. Maddox only hoped he had not arrived there yet. Maddox would have to start looking for Frankie himself, though with Pinty being in the hospital, and Hess yanking his leash, his walking-around time was severely limited.

He passed the red STATE FARM INSURANCE AGENT sign at the end of Walt Heavey's driveway, thinking of the hand-rolled cigarette butt he had found there, frowning again at the thought of Sinclair lurking around Heavey's house. That weak-minded fool. Why, of all people, would he kill Frond? The one guy who had intervened on his behalf with Bucky's abuse? Even if Sinclair had somehow found out about Frond sleeping with his sister—Sinclair had no stake in that. He and Val were brother and sister in name only.

Maddox neared the one-lane bridge that marked the paved end of Edge Road and the beginning of a tagged-on half mile of dirt and rock. He pulled over behind an unmarked cruiser and walked to the gravel turnout just before the short, rusted span that bore no name. The three rat-tailed boys who had called it "Toad Bridge" stood below, on the hard bank of the dribbling, heat-strangled brook, showing state police Crime Scene Services technicians where they had discovered Sinclair's bicycle.

Walt Heavey was also present, having walked down from his house. He was testifying in front of Hess, who stood back off the road in the shade, spraying his big arms with bug repellent. "I'm telling you, there is something going on in these woods."

"This woman at your boys' window," said Hess, arms glistening sleeve to wrist. "She had long black hair. How long?"

"Below the shoulder."

Hess was working the wig angle. Sinclair had been known to wear that thing out on his balcony after dusk, overlooking the center of town. He asked Heavey, "Ever hear anything in the woods at night like music, or chanting?"

Heavey gave this serious thought. "No, sir. But you are looking at a man in the insurance game fourteen years now, as level as they come. And I am telling you, there is something going on in these woods."

Hess thanked him and Heavey went away satisfied. Hess handed the aerosol can back to Bryson and turned to Maddox. "He said something about you shooting a deer the same night he heard his gunshot?"

"Back up the road by the falls."