Felicity was snuggled against me, one arm slipped beneath the folds of my coat to wrap around my back and the other bent upward to hold my hand where I had my own arm draped around her shoulders. I could feel her warm breath against my neck whenever she would exhale. A sharp chill would fall in behind it whenever she would turn her own face upward to stare with me.
“And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood…” I whispered.
“Revelations?” Felicity whispered the question.
“Chapter six, verse twelve,” I replied. “And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake… And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood…”
“I suppose it’s ironic, isn’t it then?”
“That’s one word for it,” I replied. “Not the one I had in mind though.”
“They’re just stories, Rowan,” she said. “You of all people know that. You can even quote them better than most Christians. The Bible is a book of allegorical prose. It’s filled with misunderstood and misinterpreted metaphors and similes from a different age.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But everything has an element of truth to it somewhere… And sometimes…with everything I’ve seen…I just… Well, I just have to wonder if some prophecies are universal… If perhaps we’re driving ourselves headlong into the darkened abyss of our own insanity. Why else would so many people do the horrible things they do?”
“Don’t overanalyze,” she offered. “Just try to forget about it. This is over. You’ve earned a rest.”
I gave my head a slow shake. “Something tells me it isn’t.”
“Why?”
I let out a heavy sigh and pulled her closer as I struggled to find the words to express what I was feeling. “This wasn’t right… I mean, the way it all happened. This killer escalated far too quickly. From a victim who disappeared several months ago, to a sudden spree.”
“I’m sure the serial killer experts have an explanation for that.”
“You’re right, they probably do. But something still feels very wrong about it to me… And, that isn’t the only thing. Ben made a valid point back at the rest area. I just handed him an address for the killer, and here we are. We all know that isn’t how it happens. Everything usually comes to me in cryptic messages I have to decipher. That’s how communication across the veil works. It’s like a language barrier.”
“Maybe you’re just learning the language then,” she replied.
“Maybe…” I said. “But that’s not how it feels. It’s almost as if someone was translating for me.”
“Who?”
I sighed again. “That’s the problem. I have no idea. I feel like I should, but I just don’t…”
“You two okay?” Ben’s voice came at us from behind. “You been standin’ here for damn near fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “We’re okay.”
“Good,” he harrumphed. “Listen, I thought ya’ might like ta’ know… I just got word that Judith Albright’s been found…”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” I said in a soft voice, commenting more than questioning.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Afraid so…”
“And her body wasn’t found here either,” I continued my emotionless observation.
“No. Just a few miles further west of where they found ‘er car, actually. Looks like she was raped and then strangled. Might’ve been a carjackin’ or somethin’ of that sort that went south. That’s not confirmed yet, but it definitely looks like a separate crime. They’re already workin’ it on that basis. Gotta get an ID from next of kin too, but that’s just a formality. They’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s her.”
I let out a short, bemused snort. “It’s a black swan.”
“No,” he replied. “Like I just told ya’, it’s unrelated. Nothin’ ta’ do with this whole deal as far as they can tell.”
“I know,” I explained. “I don’t mean what you’re thinking. Black swan is a label given to a theory of improbability regarding unexpected, hard to predict, high impact events that are beyond the normal expectations or assumptions.
“We assumed Judith had fallen prey to this particular killer because she fit the victim profile and because of the time frame in which she went missing. It made sense. However, we couldn’t predict that she would in reality be the victim of a wholly different, but no less heinous crime… Her death is more or less a black swan.”
“Yeah, well, call it whatever ya’ want, it’s still a friggin’ homicide.”
“Has anyone told Barbara?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “A coupl’a minutes ago. She ain’t takin’ it too well, but then, who would…”
“Nobody with a heart.”
“Yeah… So about that whole swan thing… Ya’ think maybe the Twilight Zone was tryin’ ta’ tell ya’ about somethin’ else besides our Count Dracula wannabe in there? Maybe warn ya’ about Albright?”
“I wish I knew…” I mumbled. “All I can say is that this particular juxtaposition of reality and the ethereal definitely gives me something else to make my head hurt…”
“Yeah… Well… Sorry about that.”
“I’ll get over it… I hope.”
“Well, maybe this’ll help a bit,” he offered. “The crime scene guys cleared up one of Doc Sanders’ mysteries. Found a pair of slip joint pliers with fake vampire teeth epoxied to ‘em. Pretty much explains the postmortem bite marks with no DNA.”
“Yeah, I guess it does…” I muttered.
“Found a boom-box with a CD of weird-ass chanting in it too,” he added. “That’d prob’ly cover what ya’ thought ya’ heard back at the morgue.”
I sighed but didn’t verbally respond.
“You sure you’re okay, white man?” he asked again.
Eventually I breathed, “It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he replied then paused for a second. “So, what’re you two starin’ at?”
“The moon, Ben,” my wife told him.
“Yeah, what about it? It about ta’ crash into us or somethin’?”
“Take a good look at it,” she answered.
He was quiet for a moment then said, “Okay, it’s a full moon. That’s like a big deal for you or somethin’, right?”
“You don’t notice anything else?”
He shrugged with the tone of his voice. “It looks kinda red and the one edge is kinda dark, so? Fuckin’ air pollution and clouds.”
“No,” I said. “It’s actually a partial lunar eclipse.”
“No shit?” he mumbled.
“No shit,” Felicity replied.
“That kinda rare or somethin’?”
“What rock have you been living under?” she asked. “It happens anywhere from two to five times each year.”
“Hey, the moon crap is your thing, not mine. But if it’s that common, what’s the big effin’ deal?”
Still staring upward I asked, “Would you like to know what else it’s called, Ben?”
“Lemme guess, the moon?” he replied with audible sarcasm.
“A blood moon,” I said.
He was quiet for several heartbeats before he muttered, “Fuck me…”
“Yeah. That’s closer to the words I had picked out,” I replied.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “So it’s weird and all, but coincidences happen. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Maybe…”
“You don’t think it is?”
“I really can’t say,” I told him. “But the alternative isn’t a pretty thought.”
“You’re soundin’ all doom and gloom there, white man.”
“Yeah… I know.”
“You absolutely certain he’s okay, Firehair?” he asked after a substantial pause.
“He’s just tired, Ben,” she answered. “Like he said, it’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, no shit. Speakin’ of which, are you two ready to get outta here? I can get ya’ a ride.”
“You’re staying?” Felicity asked.
“Kinda hafta,” he told her. “But you two are free and clear. And if ya’ wanna just head straight home, I can make a call, and I’m sure your Jeep will be fine till tomorrow mornin’.”
“Aye, I think maybe that would be a good idea.”
“Well c’mon,” he said. “I’ll get ya’ hooked up.”
I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the blushing disk in the sky, but after Felicity tugged at my arm for a second time, I dropped my gaze and followed her. As we crossed the yard, skirting past the county medical examiner on his way in to retrieve the bodies, our path intersected with Sergeant Madden’s.