The Killing Moon: A Novel

"So you can see how well martial law would go over. State police actually imposed a curfew, but nobody knows it. How do you alert a community without a Web site or cable TV channel or even a town newspaper? This is why you need to stay on. In name only, just until Sinclair is brought in. Can't totally disband a town's police department during a crisis like this. Plus, my boss's perspective is, there's one thousand seven hundred fifty-eight potential votes here, so don't mobilize taxpayers by pissing them off."

"Nobody here votes."

"Still, she doesn't want a lawless town on her register. Just let Hess and his bunch do their thing, and wait this out. Play the small-town cop for a couple more days."

Maddox nodded unhappily. "And after that?"

Cullen shrugged, flapping his tie out over his lap. "That's up to your brass. You might as well know, no matter how this Sinclair shit storm falls, I'm recommending you back with full confidence."

"Actually," said Maddox, "I was asking about the town."

"You mean their police?" Cullen shrugged again. "That's a little beyond our purview, isn't it? I'm sure they'll work it out, hire on replacements. What other choice do they have?"

Maddox accepted this quietly. He had seemed uncomfortable since answering the door, but only now did it occur to Cullen that Maddox was impatient for him to leave. Another subtle creak upstairs drew Cullen's eyes to the swirled pattern of the plaster ceiling, then the detailed molding around the edge.

"One thing I've been meaning to ask you," said Cullen. "I saw the pictures from Sinclair's camera. The one of your house here. What was that?"

"I don't know. I don't think I want to either. You ever crack open an egg and get a bloody yolk? Crack open Sinclair's head, and that's what you'd get."

"But what do you think? Was he fixated on you?"

"I don't know how he saw me. I had a secret. A secret job, a secret life. He was drawn to that. I think he wanted that for himself. A great secret existence."

"Maybe he found one. I'd watch yourself, anyway." Cullen patted his own knee, uncrossing his legs. "And now I get to go home." He stood, returning the wheel pillow to the corner of the divan, reaching for his file. "What about you? What's the night hold?"

Maddox shrugged, getting to his feet.

"Alone with your thoughts, eh? Well, enjoy your downtime. God knows, it never lasts."

The moment had arrived either to shake hands or not. Cullen tapped Maddox lightly on the chest with the file folder, then nodded and started away. Sometimes it ended that way. No finish-line string-breaking or end-zone spike. There was an excellent chance they would never even see each other again.

On his way out through the garage, Cullen took another look at the old Ford pickup. Its rusted wheel wells and dinged sides and mud-browned tires marked it as a true, working truck, a farm rig, and, as such, unsuited to Maddox's needs. Cullen checked the front seat through the driver's window and saw a package of breath mints, a garage door remote control, and a paperback with a pink and blue cover he recognized as being one of his wife's book group novels.

A pickup truck and chick lit. Cullen was only sorry he'd never been introduced.

50

TRACY

TRACY WENT DOWNSTAIRS after she heard the car drive away.

Donny, alone in his kitchen, turned and raised a "there you are" smile.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't know he was coming by."

She shrugged. "That's okay."

"I'm not used to mixing work with my private life. Not really used to having a private life at all."

"Okay," she said again.

"He's from the Mitchum County District Attorney's office. I don't know how much you heard…."

"Was I supposed to be listening?"

He shrugged like it was all right if she had been.

"Most of it," she admitted.

He nodded. "I never, ever lied to you. To everyone else but you."

"You never told me much truth either."

"I know. But I'm about to."

Tracy stood against the dishwasher to steady herself. This buildup was too much. She folded her arms protectively, to stop herself from trembling. "Okay."

"This isn't my first job in law enforcement. I've been with the state police for just over ten years."

Tracy had guessed as much, listening from the foot of his bed upstairs. But hearing him say it now blew holes in her ears. "You're a state trooper?"

"Never actually wore the uniform. Not for one day on the job."

Tracy stared, trying to picture him in the shirt, the hat, the boots.

"Issued me a gun too, but I never carried it. Both have been in storage since the academy. They pulled me out right before graduation to work undercover. Which I've done continuously ever since."

"Undercover?" she said, a term she thought she knew from the movies, but which, when applied to Donny Maddox, had no meaning for her at all.