Julian reaches around Darcy and clicks the zoom feature. It takes him an uncomfortably long time to compare Darcy’s version with what he sees on the screen, then he pockets the notepad.
“I need a copy of the video.”
“Can you take it on a thumb drive?”
“Or you can email it to me. Whatever is most convenient.”
“Sure, the video will take a few minutes to download.”
The bedroom door opens. Julian’s eyes follow Hunter as he heads for the bathroom.
“While you work on the video, I’ll write up the report so you have it for the insurance claim.”
“Are you going to arrest Aaron Torres and his friends?”
“I’ll take care of the situation.” Down the hall, the bathroom door clicks shut. “I’d like to do a walk-through of the residence and make sure the kids didn’t break inside.”
Bronson blocks the hallway, arms folded.
“Not without a warrant,” says Darcy.
“Ms. Gellar, I’m not out to get you.”
“No, you only arrested my son on circumstantial evidence to be neighborly.”
“Fine, then. Would you like me to examine the property from the outside? That would save me from filling out a second report if you discover damage after I leave.”
Darcy agrees, but she keeps one eye on the monitors while Julian surveys the exterior. He spends a long time in the backyard beside the deck. When she finishes copying the video, she walks the thumb drive out to Julian.
“No additional damage, but you’ll want to examine the property yourself in case I missed anything. Oh, and your generator cable is unplugged. Better plug it in before we get another storm.”
Darcy’s feet go cold as Julian walks out to the cruiser. The Gilmore tech reattached the generator cable. She watched him do it.
While Bronson is outside keeping an eye on Julian, Darcy accesses the security video archives. Twenty-four hours ago, before someone murdered Amy Yang and spun Darcy’s world off its axis, the video displays the cable attached to the generator. Twelve hours later, darkness turns the picture gray, yet she sees the cable intact. Now she fast-forwards to 4:06 AM when Aaron Torres and his Neanderthal crew vandalized the Prius. The cable is on the ground. Yet Torres never unhooked the generator.
Rewinding the footage at high speed, Darcy watches the pictures blur past until a shadow catches her eye after midnight. A man behind the house wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. He keeps his face averted from the cameras. He knows their locations. After he unhooks the generator, he steps out of view. Darcy searches for the man on the other cameras, but he’s a ghost.
She was at the police station when the man came. Bronson was home with Jennifer.
Bronson tails Julian into the house. When the officer hands her the damage report, she tells Julian to watch the video. Bronson stands behind them, his face emotionless.
“So this man came to your house and unhooked the connection to your generator, but he didn’t break in or cause additional damage.”
“It’s not the first time,” Darcy says. She tells him about the power outage, the trigger that caused Amy to flee.
“No way to determine who he is from the footage, but I’d like a copy of the video all the same. And I want to sweep for prints around the generator.”
After Julian leaves, Darcy stares at the screen for a long time. Is this the killer?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Midnight. The witching hour.
Sirens awaken Darcy and pull her out of bed and to the window. Emergency lights flare across the pane, and she thinks the police are coming to take Hunter away again. The police cruiser shoots past, followed by another. Distant sirens announce more are on the way as she slips into her clothes.
Bronson already stands at the picture window in the living room. His head turns toward her, and she rushes past.
“Wait, Darcy.”
Outside, the night air thickens with humidity, warning of a storm. Branches rattle with the wind.
“They’re heading to the cove,” Darcy says, pulling a jacket on. “You know what that means.”
Hunter and Jennifer appear in the doorway. Darcy knows Hunter has been inside all night, and she’s sick with guilt for questioning his whereabouts during another murder.
Jennifer’s eyes are glowing moons.
“Is it happening again?”
Before Darcy can answer, Jennifer pulls free of Hunter and slams her bedroom door.
“Stay with the kids,” Darcy says to Bronson.
“Don’t go down there.”
“I have to know.”
The moment she steps onto the driveway, it hits her. The dark suffocates and stiffens her body.
As if Darcy can outrun her anxiety, she breaks into a sprint as Bronson’s shouts follow her through the neighborhood. Another cruiser blows past with a gust of wind, lights whirling with the siren off. Between the trees lining the pathway to the cove, torches dance and throw angry reds and oranges across the sand. The cruisers can’t reach the cove without veering toward the public beach and driving across the shoreline. Taillights whip around the corner as the police vehicles converge on the municipal parking lot.
The sand tries to swallow her sneakers. As she staggers onto the cove, Ames whips his head around and scowls. Two officers flank Ames, though it is too dark to make out their faces. A crumpled bulk sprawls beside the water. Torso hacked, one arm hanging by a flap of skin. Gulls swoop down, and one officer shoos it away.
Darcy starts toward the victim, a young girl, and Ames raises his hand and moves to block her.
“This is a crime scene, Ms. Gellar. You need to leave.”
“It’s another stabbing, and there’s a smiling face burned into her neck,” Darcy says, trying to see around Ames.
“Go home to your family.”
“Hunter was home with me all night, Detective.”
“You certain of that? It looks to me like you just woke up. Now move aside, or I’ll charge you with interfering with my investigation.”
Flares protrude from the sand. A wind gust tears the flames sideways and illuminates the teenager’s face. Darcy has seen this girl. She’s a student at the high school. Darcy passed her in the hall outside the guidance office.
“Ms. Gellar, please.”
Darcy lifts her eyes to the nearly full moon, its eerie glow rimming a break in the clouds.
“He’s getting more active, Detective. This guy thinks he’s the Full Moon Killer, and you can expect more bodies until you catch him.”
“Why would someone take up the mantle for a serial killer?”
“Why did Manson’s followers murder innocents? How did Jim Jones convince his inner circle to poison 909 civilians in Jonestown? Whoever the killer is, Michael Rivers directs his actions from a jail cell in Western New York. Why aren’t your officers monitoring the cove?”
Ames’ face reddens as he steps toward Darcy.
“Our force is stretched to the point of breaking, especially with your kids going missing every night. How many overtime shifts can you ask these officers to take?”
“Then set up cameras. Round up volunteers. Do something besides blaming my son. He’s suffered enough in his life without you destroying what’s left of him.”
Ames opens his mouth to reply as Darcy turns her back and struggles down the path.
“Stay out of my investigation,” Ames yells over the growing wind.
A figure in the night twists Darcy’s head around. A woman down the beach, watching the police from the shadows. Gail Shipley.
Darcy quickens her pace. Even if the woman spots Darcy, she can’t pursue unless she backtracks through the public beach area or cuts through the crime scene. And Ames will give Shipley hell if she tries.