The Killing Moon by Dan Padavona (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

felt certain she’d tumble out of the wheelchair, her fingers touched the radio and pulled it in.

Catching her breath, she asked, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I am at work,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“Yup.”

LeVar laughed.

“I’m in the car with Chelsey and heading to the farmhouse outside Wolf Lake.”

“The farmhouse Benson and Ramos used as a hiding place?”

“The same. How’s the Violet Lyon search going?”

“Better,” she said, reading a map of Violet Lyon’s locations. “I’m using IP geolocation to find her.”

“IP what?”

“It’s a way to track a person’s location online.”

“That’s…disturbing. Is it accurate?”

“Within five to seven miles.” Scout pointed at the screen, as though LeVar was there to see. “Her locations cluster around Barton Falls, New York. That tells me she’s not lying about her whereabouts.”

“That’s a start. Since you know where she lives, can you find out who she is?”

“I hope so. I’ll start with the usual methods—digital yearbooks, social media accounts, town forums, media articles. Like I told you, I’ll find Violet by the time you return.”

“Just so you’re aware, that might be late. I don’t imagine we’ll finish before sunset.”

“No problem. We’ll feed Jack and watch the house until you’re finished.”

“And let him out to run. He shouldn’t stay inside all day.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Scout turned to Jack after the call ended. She wanted to open the door and let Jack burn some energy. Though Jack seemed reliable and always returned on command, she worried he’d run off. What would she do if Jack sprinted into the woods and didn’t look back? She leaned over and stroked the dog’s fur. The wheelchair arm dug into her ribs, and she cursed the stupid chair. She’d come to terms with her paralysis. But times like this made her wish she could run like her classmates. Nothing would make her happier than bundling up in a winter coat and walking Jack down the lake road.

As she turned back to the investigation, Jack sat up and swung his head toward the door. His ears lifted, and a low growl rippled through his frame.

Pushing herself away from the table, Scout wheeled down the hallway to the door. She expected a deer had wandered into the yard and spooked the dog. A man stood on the front steps outside her house, ringing the doorbell. She rubbed her eyes and wished she’d brought her binoculars. The man pressed the doorbell again before giving up. As he descended the ramp, Scout drew in a breath.

No, it couldn’t be.

She hadn’t seen her father in months. Yet there he was, crossing their front yard toward his car. Jack barked behind her. She shushed the dog and pulled the door open, squeezing through the entrance as he climbed into his car. Then she was a five-year-old girl again, crying for her father’s attention as he left for work. Throughout her life, he’d spent more time at work than home with his family.

“Dad, wait!”

He didn’t hear her over the wind. The door closed and the engine fired as Scout threw her strength behind the wheels. The chair carried her up the concrete path as the icy wind stung her eyes and drew tears.

“I’m here, Dad. Don’t go!”

The car pulled off the shoulder as Scout reached the driveway. Her head fell to her chest. Why didn’t he stop?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

October 31st

12:10 p.m.

“Are you certain this is the man you saw?”

Deputy Aguilar set Mark Benson’s photograph on the counter. The shop owner adjusted the thick-lensed glasses on her nose and squinted. Aguilar stood inside the florist’s shop, surrounded by bouquets and vases. Something inside the store ignited her allergies. She struggled not to sneeze while the woman lifted the picture and tilted it to the left, then to the right.

Aguilar groaned under her breath. The shop owner’s eyesight made her unreliable. From the thickness of the lenses, Aguilar figured the woman might have spotted Big Bird crossing the street and identified him as Benson.

“Yes, I’m certain it was him.”

“Where did you last see this man, ma’am?”

She lifted her chin at the storefront.

“He was standing right there, on the other side of the glass.”

Aguilar turned. Two sprawling palms blocked the window. How in the world had the woman recognized anyone, let alone a fugitive?

“On the sidewalk?”

“That’s right. He was there, plain as day.”

“Did he speak to anyone?”

The woman scrunched up her face in thought.

“No, he was by himself.”

“Then what happened?”

“After I recognized his face from the news, I picked up the phone and called your department. The moment I looked up, he disappeared.”

Aguilar chewed her lip and glanced around the shop.

“Do you have security cameras?”

The woman pointed toward the ceiling. One camera angled down at the counter.

“I keep it recording all the time, on account of the lowlifes who come in from Harmon.”

“Is that your only camera?”

“Yes.”

“And it doesn’t cover the front window.”

“Not sure why I’d want to record people coming and going. Just the criminals stealing plants inside the store. Once, a gentleman slipped a Pothos inside his jacket and walked out. The camera recorded him, and the sheriff’s deputy recognized his face from the video. I believe the deputy’s name was Lambert.”

Aguilar covered a snicker. She pictured Deputy Lambert, who stood eighteen inches taller than the diminutive woman behind the counter, solving the great Pothos caper. Aguilar would be sure to ask Lambert about the incident later.

“What time did you notice the fugitive?”

“It was a little after ten. I’d just finished my inventory work when I spotted him on the sidewalk.”

Aguilar noted the time and thanked the woman for her help. Outside the storefront window, the deputy crossed her arms and swung her head up and down the sidewalk. The municipal parking lot sat one block away, behind a row of stores. The amount of vehicles clogging the parking spaces meant Benson would have blended in. If he was driving, his was just one vehicle in a sea of hundreds. Though Aguilar doubted the shop owner’s reliability, she searched for stores likely to use