The Killing Moon: A Novel

Maddox reached for the warm mouse, dragging the cursor over the BACK button and clicking. The previous page visited showed a naked guy shackled up in leather restraints on an S&M rack, curse words and racial epithets scrawled over his chest in purple lipstick, his left nipple about to be burned with the lit tip of a cigarillo by a chubby she-male wearing a Nazi helmet, infantry boots, and a monocle.

"Look, I was just killing a little time—"

Anson ducked as the lightbulb shattered against the wall behind his head, glass tinkling to the floor.

Next to the PC was an open two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew Pitch Black grape soda. Maddox pressed buttons to open the CD trays and made ready to empty the contents of the bottle into them.

Anson threw out both hands from his crouch. "Jesus, man, what the fuck?"

"Carlo and Nick, where are they?"

"I'd know, man? How can you keep track?"

"That's supposed to be your damn job." Maddox splashed soda across the room, fizzing like black acid on Anson's shirt. He dribbled a little into the computer.

"You wouldn't. You can't!"

"Say it loud again," said Maddox. "How you don't know where they are. Maybe they didn't hear you."

A bang like a loose door snapping shut. Maddox carried the bottle of soda across the room and hauled down one of the shades, rod and all, from the window.

Two boys were racing away across the backyard into the old orchard.

Maddox looked back at Anson, shrinking against the wall. Maddox moved fast to the desk, glugging soda into the CD slots while Anson covered his head and groaned. "I'll be back for you," said Maddox, rushing past him, cutting down the hall to the living room, past the kid at the TV to a back door leading to a short flight of rickety stairs outside.

Maddox ran fast and angry. The kids had a head start, but the two burnouts hadn't seen anything like exercise in months. They looked back and saw him coming and veered off into what remained of the apple orchard. Never even occurred to them to split up. Running lockstep, they cut between trees and across lanes, unable to shake Maddox's pursuit. Seeing he was about to catch them, they slowed.

Maddox did not. He tackled both at full speed, throwing them hard to the dirt and spoiled fruit and scavenging ants.

Both teens had the same choppy home haircut. Maddox got his knees into their spines.

"Why are you running?"

"Because," said one.

"Because?"

"Of Frankie," said the other.

They were trying to look up at him, but Maddox was kneeling on their backs, forcing their faces into the ground. "What because of Frankie?"

"He said cops were looking for him. Were looking to do him."

Paranoid tweaker. "Where is he now?"

"Hiding, I guess."

"Who brings in the meth?" said Maddox. "Him to you or you to him?"

One teen remained silent. The other said, "What?"

Maddox grabbed their home haircuts and mashed their faces into the dirt. Not a good day to cross him. He asked again.

"Him," said one.

"Him to us," said the other, spitting dirt.

Maddox said, "And you deal to Anson back there?"

One tried to rise up in protest. "That douche bag?"

"He steals," said the other. "Took half our stash. To protect us, he said. Otherwise he'd turn us in."

Maddox said, "Where does Wanda figure in to all this?"

Blinking. Swallowing. "Wanda who?"

Again, Maddox ground their mouths into the dirt and ants. "You're teenagers, lying's supposed to be a talent."

They coughed up truth. They'd seen her around, but the hospital was the first time they'd met her. She'd introduced herself as a friend of Frankie's. That was all they knew.

Maddox floated Bucky's name but neither of them so much as blinked.

"I'm asking again. Where is Frankie now?"

"We don't know."

"We might, though," said the other one.

His partner winced at that.

To the talker, Maddox said, "Out with it."

"We followed him this one time."

"We were just curious," said his partner.

"You wanted to take him down!" said the talker.

"Show me," said Maddox, standing, pulling them to their feet.

MADDOX BUZZED THE office door first, because it was closest to the driveway. DR. GARY BOLT, VETERINARIAN, read the sign. A window sticker said, HILL'S SCIENCE DIET SOLD HERE. He gave the button two quick pushes but didn't wait, the office dark, just like the house attached to it.

It was late, the sun gone now, summer light straggling in the western sky. He left the kids in the back of his patrol car and followed the rock path to the front door of the house. The bell was an old one you twisted like a key, but it did not ring. He knocked. While he waited he heard a muffled thump inside like someone tripping, then the sound of something dropping to the floor and rolling away.

Maddox moved to the side of the door. He kick-knocked with his hiking boot, the old training coming right back to him. He sized up the heavy door and figured he was as likely to dislocate a shoulder as he was to break it down. He backed off and started around the side of the house, under a picture window, looking for another way in.