The Killing Moon: A Novel

He saw the wide-brimmed campaign cover first, then the silver whistle and badge. He pulled off his aim, and the trooper in front of him howled and did the same with his sidearm, then spun off and ripped a string of curses.

"Okay, okay," Maddox said, settling himself down, his heart kicking at his chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here!" howled the red-faced trooper, angry and scared at how close he'd come.

"Easy." Maddox was conciliatory. "Easy. Hold up."

The trooper stabbed his still-drawn Sig Sauer P226 toward the floor. "Fuck you, 'hold up,' you fucking dickhead! Almost got your ass killed! The fuck are you doing in here?"

"The fuck am I doing?"

"I'm responding to a call, motherfucker. Like a real fucking law officer. Joke-ass local yokel. Get out of my face."

The trooper thrust his sidearm back into his duty belt holster and strode out of the room.

As Maddox climbed back out through the missing window, the high branches of the backyard trees began to shudder. Leaves twisted and blew down as a concussive whupping rose up overhead. The roaring flutter of a Massachusetts State Police Air Wing helicopter.

The trooper had his hat off now, a uniform violation for a road trooper in the MSP. He was snarling into his shoulder radio. "Nothing showing…some local dink playing cop, snooping around…false alarm."

A neighbor must have seen a man—Maddox—walking toward the abandoned Sinclair house, the entire town being in this hysterical state of alert.

"What are you looking at?" demanded the bareheaded trooper, turning on Maddox again, unable to let this go. "The fuck are you looking at?"

Maddox thought of the K-9 dogs all fired up after a search, seeking to sink their teeth into something, anything. He could ding this road guy, drop a letter in his performance file for abusive language as well as the removed hat, dock him some vacation time. But instead he just stood there and absorbed the trooper's contempt for a small-town cop.

THE HELICOPTER moved on and Maddox returned to his driveway, finding a tan Corolla parked behind his patrol car.

Val stepped out of the driver's side. She looked relieved, almost elated, as he approached. "Where were you?" she said. "I tried the doorbell, I knocked."

He was startled. "Is everything okay?"

"Okay?" She held her arms away from her sides as though modeling the new Val. "Everything's great. Can't you tell?"

She wore a loose, grape red top over denim jeans. Her black hair was washed and brushed out, styled similarly to the way she used to wear it in high school, a little bit of makeup setting off her winged eyes.

"The smell," she said. She presented her hands and arms for examination. "The septic stink. It's already going away."

"Oh," Maddox said. "That's…good."

"So you're leaving now?"

"This moment? No. Don't look so happy about it."

"But I am. I'm happy to give you the chance to redeem yourself."

"Okay." This sudden ebullience looked strange on her. Strident, like a flower in overbloom, its pedals curling back too far. "Redeem myself how?"

"I've been packing some things already. Quietly getting ready."

"Packing for what?"

"To tag along with you. If you'll have me, that is."

She said the last part like she was ribbing him. Maddox fumbled for the right facial expression, never mind words. She saw this and jumped in.

"Just as friends, of course. I mean, at first. We wouldn't have to…I'm not looking for anything right away. Just a friend, a helping hand. From there? You never know, right?"

"Val—"

"Everything's going to change. Everything. You wait and see. No more drinking during the day. No more pining away out on the back porch. No more dwelling. I'll join a gym. I'm going to be so healthy. You can help me."

Maddox could only look mystified. After a few moments her smile started to wilt.

"You must know," she said, "this is no snap decision on my part. I've thought it all through. Believe me."

He nodded, trying to find a way into the conversation.

She said, "Think about it. Think for a moment. It would be like…like taking a potion. Like all these lost years since high school, they never happened. Like throwing luggage off a plane, watching it shrink and disappear. We'll be free."

"That would be wonderful, Val. For anybody. In theory."

"Okay." Her smile tightened like a press squeezing the last bit of sweetness out of an orange half. "What?"

"To start with? You have a husband."

She stared at him as though this was the most hurtful thing he could have said. "I know I have a husband," she said. "I have fifteen years of bad decisions behind me. Of wasted life. This I know, Donny. That's what this is all about."

"Don't you think you should talk to him about it?"

Now she squinted, as though trying, really trying, but ultimately failing to see the logic. "Do you think someone who is part of the problem would accept such a radical solution?"

"Because, Val, if this is truly what you want—leaving town, starting over—you don't need me. You can go."