Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Read Online Free PDF

ta’ run, but
you need ta’ get back ta’ Firehair, and I really should go ahead
and get movin’. I’ll catch up with you two and let ya’ know how
Constance is doin’, okay?”
    He reached to shake hands, so I extended my
own out of reflex. A moment later he was turning to leave, and I
realized I was completely sidetracked. I had allowed his concern
for Felicity and me to dominate the remainder of our conversation,
and now my unexpected opportunity was about to escape.
    “Hey, Ben,” I blurted, just as he was about
to take a step. “Before you go can I ask you something?”
    “Yeah, what’s up?” he said, stopping and
turning back to face me.
    The question I had for him was one I wasn’t
so sure he was going to want to answer—for several reasons, not the
least of which could be where it might lead. I started to ask it
anyway, but then hesitated as my mind flashed on the still fresh
memories of the recent investigation—in particular, a victim
Annalise Devereaux had literally trampled to death, using his
prurient fetish as a vehicle for his demise and in the process, her
own twisted gratification. My query was directly related to
something she had done with that victim’s blood, and it was
weighing on me heavily. In fact, it had been ever since I’d seen
it.
    Obviously, my pause was longer than I
imagined because Ben furrowed his brow and looked at me with worry
in his eyes as he gave me a verbal nudge. “What’s wrong, Row?”
    “Sorry…” I told him, then let out a heavy
sigh and asked, “Remember when we were at the scene of the Lewis
homicide?”
    “Yeah, I may be on the downhill slide ta’
fifty but I ain’t senile yet. That was just a few days ago, white
man.”
    “So then I’m sure you remember the piece of
spellwork Annalise did in the kitchen with the blood and the
cloves, right?”
    “Well yeah… It was the reason I took ya’
there ta’ begin with.”
    “Exactly. Do you know if anyone ever found
the bottle or jar that she used?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Not that I’ve
heard. But I’m on suspension, so I don’t exactly get daily reports.
Why?”
    “Dammit,” I muttered. I had been afraid that
was going to be the case, and I knew it meant I would have to ask a
different question he wouldn’t be nearly as quick to answer. I
sucked in a breath and blurted it out anyway. “Okay, then is there
any chance you can tell me where Annalise is right now?”
    “Yeah, in an eight-by-twelve cussin’ the fact
that bright orange ain’t ‘er color. Don’t worry, she’s not gettin’
out.”
    “I’m not worried. About that anyway. But I do
need to know where she is specifically. Saint Louis? Somewhere
else?”
    “Ain’t important, white man,” he returned
with a hard, dismissive tone underscoring the words. Even with
that, at least his overall reaction was calmer than I had expected
it might be.
    “Do you even know where she’s being held,
Ben?”
    “Yeah. She’s in an eight-by-twelve, just like
I said.”
    “Dammit, you know what I mean.”
    “Yeah, well actually I do know where she is.
But I’m tellin’ ya’ to leave it alone, Row.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Yes, you can.”
    “No, seriously, Ben. I can’t.”
    “Okay, I’ll play. Ya’ wanna give me a good
reason why?”
    “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve got a bad feeling
this isn’t over yet.”
    “What isn’t over?”
    “Miranda.”
    “What? How the hell can it not be
over?” he almost barked the question. “The bitch is in custody.
There’s enough hard evidence ta’ get ‘er the needle. It’s a
slam-dunk. Once the Feebs are done with her, she’s gonna be puttin’
in her order for a last meal. It’s done. Finished.”
    “You’re talking about Annalise,” I told him,
nodding my head in agreement. “But I’m talking about Miranda. The Lwa that was using her as a horse.”
    He shook his head. “Horse. Jeez, that gets me
every time I hear it.”
    “It’s just Vodoun terminology for the body