New Moon Rising Read online

  I half smile. “You just took God’s name in vain. Your mother’s head would spin all the way around.”

  “Sam. I’m serious.” He lets his head sag. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to talk about that in front of the kids, and you’re right when you said I’m exhausted. My brain is already half shut down for the day.”

  Danny wraps his arms around me and sniffles into my shoulder. “Please don’t make me have to deal with losing you. Can’t you do something safer?”

  Here we go again. I don’t have the energy for this now. “HUD is safe. By comparison anyway. It’s an anomaly. I could work for them for the next forty years and never wind up even needing to touch my gun again. Look, can we maybe talk about this later when I’m not ready to pass out?”

  “Okay.” He holds me for a moment more, sighs, and leans back against the headboard, the novel in his lap. “I’m worried about you.”

  I squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. I got a guardian angel… or so Chad tells me.”

  “Now I know you’re tired.” Danny gives me a sad smile. “You don’t believe in that stuff.”

  Tammy lets off a horrible, loud shriek of terror, then shouts, “Mommy!”

  When did she start having nightmares? I fling the covers off and slide out of bed. “I got it.”

  The hallway outside the bedroom feels darker than it ought to be, and a hanging cloud of shadow blocks my view of the living room. Shifting and swaying, the walls seem to drift farther away and glide back in a disorienting dance. Paralytic fear wells up out of nowhere, the same unnatural dread that seized me in Hillcrest Park and at the beach. I feel like a field mouse staring up at the jaws of a ravenous bobcat, my feet rooted to the carpet, too frightened to even scream.

  Tammy shouts, “Mommy!” again and shrieks so loud I’m sure someone’s about to murder my child in her bed.

  Hands still shaking from the bizarre dread in the air, I snarl and force myself toward the sound of my daughter’s voice. The hallway’s become thick with an inexplicable morass of dread. Every inch of motion is a war fought with a heavy, gelatinous resistance that’s trying like hell to keep me away from my daughter. Desperation, the need to protect her, rears up within me, a light chasing away the gloom that threatens to ice over my heart. Refusing to acknowledge my terror, I advance toward her door while averting my eyes from the inky cloud still hanging in the living room, unsure why I’m so afraid of looking directly down the hall. My subconscious knows death will come for me if I meet its gaze. Nothing matters but getting to Tammy.

  I grab the doorjamb and drag myself forward as if out of a tar pit. Tammy’s bed stands against the corner of the room; she’s curled up against the wall, still screaming as loud as her little lungs will let her. The instant I’m past her door, the bizarre fear evaporates, as well as the force holding me back. Sudden freedom almost causes me to pratfall, but I catch my balance and run to her. As soon as I reach the bed, she leaps into my arms and bawls.

  On edge, I spin, cradling her to my chest. Her window’s closed, curtains drawn. Closet door is somewhat ajar. Lights are off and nothing appears out of place. My heart still racing, I sit on the edge of her bed, rocking her like a baby while she cries. Her body trembles, which almost makes me wish whatever scared her this badly isn’t a nightmare so I can kill it for doing this to her.

  “It’s all right, Tam Tam. Mommy’s here. Bad dream’s over.”

  For several minutes, I keep rocking her, rubbing her back, and whispering soothing things in her ear. Eventually, her tears peter out to a soft sniveling.

  Her face still buried in my shoulder, she mutters, “There’s a monster in the closet.”

  I lift my head to peer at the closet―and the breath stalls in my throat. While the closet is empty, the door is now wide open, as is her window. That’s not even possible. If some creep had been hiding in her closet, there’s no way in hell he could’ve walked straight past me, opened the window, and climbed out without me seeing him.

  Holy shit, my brain is fried. I can’t believe what I’m seeing, but I also can’t believe her window would’ve been open. We always have the AC on in the summer. With Tammy clinging to me, I approach the window and close it hard before flipping the lock.

  “Everything okay?” asks Danny from the doorway.

  I yelp and whirl around.

  Tammy shrieks.

  “Whoa!” Danny jumps. “Sam? What’s up?”

  “You startled me.” I take a couple deep breaths while bouncing Tammy on my hip to calm her down again. “A nightmare.”

  Only I’m not sure if it’s mine or Tammy’s.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Private Eye

  I experiment with the metaphysical paradox of being too wound up and freaked out to sleep while simultaneously too exhausted to function. Anthony slept through the whole thing, and even Danny only seemed to notice Tammy screaming. According to him, I walked out of our room and went into hers right away, not the almost five-minute mental battle it felt like to cross ten feet of hallway.

  Before Tammy can even ask, I take her to bed with us. Between clinging to her like a frightened child with a doll, and Danny’s arm around both of us, somehow, sleep manages to sneak up on me. My eyes peel open a few minutes before my alarm clock goes off. Danny’s already in the shower. I sit up, yawn, and nudge Tammy. She’s groggy, so I carry her to her room and change her into a cute white sundress with a unicorn embroidery and sandals. Letting her nap a bit more in her bed, I cross the hall to Anthony’s room and get him dressed. Ugh. He still hasn’t made it through the night without a wet diaper yet, but he’s only a few months into being two. Today’s an overalls and red shirt day. I’ll have to make sure I get some of pictures of him in this outfit to show his future wife. If teenage-Anthony ever finds them, he’ll surely delete them.

  Danny breezes into the kitchen a few minutes after I have the kids situated with their cereal. “Good morning, sunshine,” he says.

  Grr. I hate being called that, but I’m far too weary to make an issue of it. “Morning, handsome.”

  He gives me a quick kiss and fires a mournful look at the inactive coffee machine. Oops my bad. “Got an early meeting with a client today… I’ll grab something on the way.”

  “All right.” Screw it. My mental capacity right now is about the same as a five-year-old’s; might as well eat like one. I dump more cereal in a bowl for myself and sit down with the kids.

  Danny does a circle around the table doing the hug/kiss/goodbye thing with everyone before fast-walking to the door. The scent of his after-shave lingers in my senses; eyes closed, I savor his presence and daydream about that tropical vacation we keep talking about. A whole week together without the interruptions of real life or work. Some day.

  Outside, Mary Lou’s startled squawk knocks me back to the here and now. Danny mutters apologies; from the sound of it, he rushed out the door and crashed into her. In seconds, they’re both laughing. The thump of a car door follows, then the house door closes, and Mary Lou walks into the kitchen, her kids in tow. Tammy waves at her with a giant grin. Anthony blows a milk bubble out his nose.

  “The man’s in a hurry,” says Mary Lou.

  “Yeah. Important meeting. You’d think he’d schedule stuff a little later in the day if it’s that big a deal.”

  “Right. Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “Fine. Didn’t sleep well.” I rub my face. “Watch ‘em for a sec, I need to hit the shower.”

  She nods.

  By the time I’m showered and dressed for work, my sister’s got the kids in the living room with daytime cartoons on. Usually, I drop Tammy and Anthony off at her place on the way to the office. Her showing up here means she’s either intending to spend the day, or she wanted to talk to me. Given the way she’s looking at me, I’m guessing the latter.

  Mary Lou trails after me into the kitchen when I go to rinse out the bowls… and I find she already did.
“Sam?”

  “You didn’t have to wash my dishes.” I smile and turn. “Something’s bothering you. Is it that prowler?”

  “Prowler?” She tilts her head. “What prowler?”

  “The one you saw the other night? Ricky went out to look around and didn’t find anything.”

  She blinks at me, utterly confused. Umm. I did not imagine her calling me in a panic. It’s not like her to make stuff up and lie about it. Oh, maybe she’s stressed and like sleepwalking or something… doesn’t remember calling me.

  What the hell is going on?

  “I followed Ricky last night. He called me to say he was going out with ‘the guys’ again. So, I packed the kids in the car and drove to his office.”

  Wow. That’s way out of her comfort zone. She doesn’t have that kind of nerve before at least two glasses of wine. “Really?”

  She leans on the counter, speaking low so the kids don’t hear. “Yeah. I was a total mess. I had to know… He didn’t go out with the guys, Sam.”

  My heart sinks. Oh, no… not Ricky!

  Mary Lou lifts her head, her eyes reddening in preparation for tears. “He went to this little clinic. A cancer treatment place.”

  Whoa. Relief that my read of Ricky wasn’t wrong crashes headfirst into worry. “Is he…”

  Mary Lou shakes her head. “No. When I saw where he was going, I ran in behind him. That mark I thought was a hickey? Well, he thought he had throat cancer or melanoma or something so he went there to get it checked out and didn’t want to tell me. He’d been terrified of how I’d react.”

  I hug her. “You wouldn’t have handled it well, but he should’ve told you.”

  “How well can anyone take that?” My sister shudders, fighting tears. Mary Lou isn’t used to being on the receiving end of comfort. She’s always the one giving it to others. I don’t think she knows how to handle anyone trying to help her or worrying about her feelings. “It’s benign, but he’s going to have it removed.”

  Whew. “That’s great news.”

  “Ricky thinks I’m brittle.”

  I can’t help but snicker. “Well… you kind of are. But only superficially. You look like you fall to pieces, but you’re strong inside. You had to grow up faster than any of us. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  She wipes her cheek. “You know, Mom kinda apologized a couple months ago. I guess she always thought I loved looking after everyone.”

  “You didn’t?” I raise both eyebrows, teasing.

  Mary Lou chuckles. “I loved you guys, but seriously, what nine-year-old would rather cook, clean, and take care of her younger siblings instead of being a child.”

  “Yeah. Mom and Dad were more like roommates.” Dad spent a good portion of my teen years too high to function after he got released from his position as a minor league pitcher for Rancho Cucamonga. Being unemployed, he had all day to explore parallel dimensions. Mom was always occupied with something: painting, crystals, tarot, reading tealeaves, or just wandering aimlessly among the redwoods. They left the lot of us to our own devices. If not for Mary Lou making sure we got fed, dressed, and off to school every day, we’d have probably wound up like some family on a reality TV show that makes eerie faces at people from deep in the woods. “You did everything.”

  She folds her arms. “They’d have sooner climbed over trash than cleared out the living room. Clay adored the chaos. He’s so much like them now.”

  Our brother Clayton… he’s two years older than me and as much a hippie as our parents were at that age. He still has an aversion to pants, and he’s shared our father’s fondness for weed ever since he snuck his first joint.

  “Remember when you found Clay stoned out behind the house? What was he eleven?” I shake my head. “You tried to get him in trouble, but Dad was proud of him for inhaling without choking.”

  “Unbelievable. I’m so glad you never got into that crap. At least Mom mellowed out a bit. She’s still with that hotel or whatever.” Mary Lou helps herself to a glass of water.

  Mom got a job as a docent at some old supposedly haunted hotel. It suits her new-agey personality. She gets paid to wander around and tell ghost stories mixed with history. As far as I know, Dad’s co-owner of an ‘organic’ health food store still. No idea how he got the money for that. As much as he hates the government, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and get an entrepreneurial grant. “Dad still doing that Magic Grains thing?”

  She nods, drinking.

  “Any word from Dusk?” My middle brother. He didn’t go as full-hippie as Clay, but growing up in a household with no structure, no bedtime, and like fourteen years of a shared bed left him permanently averse to order and authority. Last I heard, he somehow managed to get an art scholarship and he’s been biking around Europe.

  “Not since that email last year with the photos. I think he’s still mad at me for trying to talk him out of it and getting a ‘real’ job. And of course, you committed the ultimate sin.”

  I laugh. Yeah. Ol’ evil me… working for ‘The Man.’ Clay’s the most upset. Last time we were in the same room, he told me I no longer existed to him unless I stopped ‘helping the oppressors.’ Oy. The boy’s smoked himself handicapped.

  “River called me last week,” says Mary Lou. “He wound up in the hospital.”

  “What?” I gasp. “You didn’t tell me?” River’s our oldest brother, one year behind Mary Lou and five older than me. He’s always had a problem with self-control, and was in and out of juvenile detention since he was thirteen. At eighteen, he did two years in county for stealing a car to joyride, but he’s kept his ass out of jail since. He’s been doing rather well for himself as a heavy equipment operator for a construction company. I’m almost jealous really. If I told Danny that my brother made almost twice what he makes and he barely finished high school, I think my husband would have a meltdown. Hooray for unions, right?

  “It wasn’t that big a deal. He got his foot caught on his machine and sprained his ankle. Foreman made him go to the hospital for insurance reasons.”

  “Oh.” I sigh silently out my nose while picking a fingernail at the countertop. It’s shitty that of my entire family, only Mary Lou really bothers with me. I was always the rule follower as a kid. Not that we had many rules, but I tried to act like the other kids I saw in school who had normal families. “So, Ricky’s okay?”

  Mary Lou lowers the glass with a gasp of breath. “Yeah. It’s benign. We only argued a little. He said he would’ve told me if it turned out to be cancer, but he didn’t want to scare me unnecessarily.” Her somber expression curls into a mischievous grin. “I kinda felt like a ‘real private eye’ there for a while when I was tailing him.” She starts to laugh, but it melts into crying.

  “Hey…” I hug her again. “It’s okay.”

  “I feel like shit for not trusting him, but I’m pissed off he didn’t tell me the truth.” She scowls, hands balled into fists. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

  “Men… they think we’re all delicate little flowers.” I wink. “He did it to protect you, even if it wasn’t necessary. I’d forgive him this time, but also tell him he’s gotta trust you with the painful stuff too. That’s what the whole marriage thing is about.”

  “Anthony, no!” shouts Ellie Mae from the living room. “Mom! Anthony’s touching the mote troller!”

  “Shit,” I mutter, noticing the time. “I’m late now.”

  “Mommy?” asks Tammy from right behind me. “What does shit mean?”

  I practically jump out of my skin. Little ninja snuck up on me. Argh! “It’s an adult word, okay, Tammy?”

  She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

  “It’s okay, I got it.” Mary Lou hurries to the living room. “What are you doing, Anthony?”

  He babbles on about not liking the voice of one of the characters so he wanted to change the picture. This gets Billy Joe and Ruby Grace both yelling that they want to keep watching what’s on. I scoop Tammy
up and carry her to the sofa.

  “I need to go to work now, sweetie.”

  She hugs me. “Bye, Mommy. Hope you catch the bad guys.”

  Aww. I ruffle her hair, hover by Mary Lou long enough to kiss Anthony goodbye, and rush out the door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Red Pill

  I swing by Starbucks on my way to the office since another ten minutes won’t matter. While in line for coffee, I call Nico and tell him I had some family issues to deal with. He’s understanding, but his tone suggests a warning not to let it become a habit. Would he give the same attitude to a guy calling in late? Of course, being a woman, I’m ten times as likely to let children and home negatively impact work. How dare I reproduce or try to have a life.

  Grr.

  Relax, Sam.

  Nico only sounds mildly annoyed, and it’s not like I’m missing a meeting or anything important. Despite the shooter and his friends being in custody, my head’s on a swivel as I head outside with my coffee. No one comes after me, and twenty minutes later, I’m safe at my cube.

  Chad crosses the aisle, and we chat for a few minutes about my morning. When I tell him about Tammy overhearing me curse, he goes off on this rambling story about his sister’s three-year-old who’d evidently spent too much time around Daddy while he sat in traffic. Right in the middle of a supermarket, the precious little girl screamed, “Move you slow piece of shit!” at an old person who got in front of them with a cart.

  I’d implode if Tammy ever did that. Lucky for me, she’s not a shouter. She tends to get quiet and clingy out in public. Geez, I hope she’s not going to turn out to be painfully shy. Another two months, and she’ll start preschool. Talking to Chad about how much I’m dreading that first day eats another fifteen minutes.

  Eventually, I log into my computer and stare at the list of guys named Haresh Kondapalli. You wouldn’t think a name like that would be common, but there are over a hundred in the state. A spark of inspiration hits me, and I add the address from the Newvox account to the search. That narrows it down to one, and I eventually get a social security number. Looks like the guy naturalized in ’82. The file photo looks like he’s in his mid-to-late twenties. The most current record I can find shows him having moved to Seattle right around the time the house foreclosed. After a few minutes, I find a record of his rental application up there. He started renting an apartment in Washington State five months before the bank took over the house here. Weird. Not the best way to pull off an interstate move.