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

Dean swiveled his head and leered back at Leland.

“Don’t show your face by the train tracks, boy. That’s Royals territory now. You’re not welcome.”

For good measure, Dean spat. The glob landed below Leland’s eye and trailed down his cheek.

The teenager coughed blood as the sedan raced out of the lot.

CHAPTER THIRTY

October 31st

3:15 p.m.

“Knock, knock.”

Scout closed the browser when her mother’s voice came from the entryway. Had she forgotten to lock the door? Seeing her father had thrown her off. At least she was safe inside the guest house with Jack by her side. The giant Siberian Husky lifted his head and padded to the entryway, tail wagging and slapping against the wall as he greeted Serena and Naomi. Scout’s mouth watered. The sweet potato pie made LeVar’s home smell like Thanksgiving.

“Hey, Mom. I’m back here.”

“Ms. Hopkins is with me.”

“Just need to drop off a few dishes for LeVar,” said Serena, drawing a snort from Naomi.

What was that all about?

“There you are,” Naomi said as she rounded the wall. Scout’s mother eyed the essay on the computer display with skepticism before bending to kiss Scout’s forehead. She held her lips for several seconds. “That’s good. You don’t have a fever.”

Scout doubted that lips competed for accuracy with digital thermometers. But mothers possessed preternatural abilities to assess fevers with their lips and the backs of their hands. They also solved all the world’s problems with chicken soup.

“Hi, Ms. Hopkins.”

“How are you feeling, Scout?” Serena asked, setting the pie on LeVar’s card table.

“Better. I could have gone to school this afternoon, but I finished my essay.”

Serena and Naomi shared a smile.

“Ms. Hopkins and I baked an amazing sweet potato pie,” Naomi said, brushing the hair out of Scout’s eyes. “How about I grab plates from LeVar’s cupboard?”

“Seriously? I can’t wait. But won’t pie ruin dinner?”

Serena waved a hand through the air.

“It’s only three. You’ll get your appetite back by six, especially with how hard you’re working.”

Naomi and Serena laughed again, leaving Scout to wonder about the inside joke. She furrowed her brow and turned back to her essay as her mother helped Serena with the plates and forks.

“Before I slice the pie,” Naomi called down the hallway. “Are you over your upset stomach?”

“Yeah, my stomach feels—”

Scout clamped her mouth shut, closed her eyes, and dropped her head back. How stupid could she be?

“Hmm,” Naomi said, leaning against the wall with a dish balanced on her palm. “I could have sworn you told me you had a sore throat.”

Serena folded her arms and stood beside Naomi. They fixed Scout with unwavering glares as she fidgeted in the wheelchair. Then Serena burst out laughing, and Naomi joined in. To Scout’s horror, they shared a fist bump.

“Kids never learn,” Naomi said.

“We teach them everything they know,” said Serena, popping a piece of crust into her mouth. “But not everything we know.”

“They fall for our tricks every time.” Naomi set Scout’s plate on the table and sat. “So you played hooky, and we caught you.”

Scout opened her mouth to protest and stopped. They’d cornered her. No way to talk her way out of the lie.

Naomi eyed Serena and said, “Now that we caught her, we need to decide on a punishment.”

“You could take her computers away for a week,” Serena said, forking the sweet potato pie past her lips.

Scout lost her appetite. Naomi pondered the suggestion.

“No. How will she do her homework?”

“Ma used to make me eat soap when I lied.”

“Eat soap?” Scout asked, widening her eyes.

“Or whack me with the paddle.”

Naomi chewed and swallowed, a look of rapture on her face.

“This is amazing, Serena. What’s wrong, Scout? You haven’t touched your food.”

Serena turned to Naomi as she pointed her fork at Scout.

“Maybe Scout should plea bargain to reduce her punishment.”

Naomi set her fork down and assessed her daughter from across the table.

“Yes, a plea bargain.”

Scout dropped her shoulders.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Let’s start with the reason you skipped school. You’re investigating another case, aren’t you?”

When Scout didn’t reply, Serena set her forearms on the table.

“Tell your mother the truth, Scout. The truth shall set you free.”

Naomi snorted.

“All right. But this case isn’t as exciting as the state park investigation.”

At the end of summer, Scout’s team researched the Skye Feron disappearance and helped the sheriff’s department catch Alec Samson, the man who’d abducted Skye six years ago.

“That’s fine. I don’t want you losing sleep because of nightmares, anyhow. What’s so fascinating about this case that you played hooky?”

Scout picked at her food and retold the story of Violet Lyon’s podcast. Naomi and Serena shared curious glances as Scout mentioned the Halloween Man.

“LeVar doesn’t believe anyone murdered Violet,” Scout said.

“But you do.”

Scout shrugged.

“I’m not sure. It sounded convincing, but I admit it’s far-fetched. Until I figure out Violet Lyon’s identity, I can’t solve the case.”

Naomi rubbed her chin.

“The prosecution is willing to strike a deal, Scout.”

Scout dropped her eyes to the table.

“What’s my punishment?”

“Show us everything you’re working on—how you research the case, the evidence you’ve gathered so far.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. You’ll have your day in court.”

“Okay.”

“Eat first. You won’t regret it.”

And she didn’t regret it. Dessert melted in Scout’s mouth. After they finished, Scout helped Mom and Serena wash and dry the dishes.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Someone needs to bring Jack’s food down from the A-frame. We’re in charge of feeding Jack and taking him outside.”

“No problem. I’ll run up to the house before dinner.”

“So you want to watch me work?” Scout asked.

She didn’t want to mention her father’s appearance with Serena around.

“Lead the way, super sleuth,” said Naomi, pushing Scout’s wheelchair to the computer.

As Naomi and Serena pulled chairs from the card table and squeezed beside her, Scout displayed the geolocation information on Violet Lyon.

“Interesting,” Naomi said. “Those dots show where Violet Lyon posted from?”

“Geolocation is accurate within several miles. Notice they cluster around Barton Falls.”

“What’s next?”

Scout ran Google searches for Violet Lyon and Barton Falls. Except for links to the girl’s podcast, Violet Lyon didn’t appear to be a