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Book: Black-Eyed Moon (A Guinan Jones Paranormal Mystery #1) by Callista Foley
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Authors: Callista Foley
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you."
"And if he had, I wouldn't tell you."
He flicked his hand as if batting away a fly. "That don't matter. I'm guessing it was something handy."
I wouldn't have guessed Skeeter was so talkative. Or analytical. I never asked my grandfather about the weapon. Long and slender. It could have been a tree branch. Or a baseball bat. I found myself wanting to open up to Skeeter about the dream. I decided to ease into it with small talk.
" I think the moon was full that night. Did you notice?"
He frowned. "It was kind of dark. Not a full moon."
I nodded absently, brushing strands of hair out of my face. The hot wind from the open windows had blown it all over my head.
"I read somewhere that the moon is actually black," he said. "Did you know that? People think it's white."
I laughed. "A black moon? I don't think so."
He grinned . "It looks white because the sun's shining on it."
I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the moon as it appeared in my dream. Had it been full? I did a quick Google search on my phone. The night Kate was killed, the moon was in a waxing crescent phase.
Forget about the dream for now .
"Skeeter, when you said I should go deeper into this, what did you mean?"
"I meant you should consider people other than the husband, the dumped boyfriend, and the other rejects. Who else would want to see Kate dead?" I must have been silent a beat too long for his taste. "Come on, girl. Just say it out loud."
I took a deep breath. "A cheated-on wife might want to see her dead."
He nodded. "She might."
"But in this case, she has an alibi."
He smirked. "Right. So if one was asleep, how could he or she be sure the other was there the whole time?"
"You have a point," I said. "But I know Tim and Tessa. They're not murderers."
He cut his eyes at me again. "You probably didn't think Tim would turn out to be a cheater."
In the brief moment we held eye contact, I sensed an undercurrent of excitement. Was this all a game to him?
"You know more than you're saying, don't you?"
"Beware of the evil eyes," he said.
"Huh?"
He kept his eyes on the road, and I couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. Before I could respond, his truck lurched forward. My pulse quickened, and my hands flew up in front of me. The instinctive move kept my chest from slamming into the dashboard. The passenger-side seatbelt hadn't locked with the impact.
The tires screeched as Skeeter cut the steering wheel to the right to keep from running off the road.
"What the hell? Crazy bastard!"
"Who is that?" I said. My heart pounding, I twisted around and saw a black SUV I didn't recognize. The windshield was tinted too dark to see the driver. "And this seatbelt is broken!"
I expected Skeeter to pull over, but he sped up.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna kill that snot-nosed little —"
The driver slammed into the back of the truck again. I didn't have time to brace myself. My body, still twisted in the seat, jerked forward. I hit the dashboard. My right arm took the brunt of the impact. I held my breath against the sharp pain and gripped my arm. "Skeeter, stop this truck!"
But he maintained his speed, sideswiping a mailbox.
Where were the police when you needed them?
"My arm...Skeeter, stop."
"Hold on!"
He made a sharp right, his truck fishtailing. What had I gotten myself into? Skeeter had seemed so rational a minute ago. Now he was acting like the crazy man everybody said he was. I reached for my cell phone, temporarily forgetting that my right arm felt as if it were on fire. The truck swerved left, and so did I.
Before I could tell him again to stop, the words caught in my throat. An oak tree seemed to be moving toward us. He cut the wheel until the driver's side faced the tree. In those seconds, my grandmother's face floated before my eyes. Tires screeched, and the last thing I saw were the squashed innards of a dead bug on the windshield.
Chapter Ten
I read somewhere that the moon is actually black.
A black moon? No,
"And if he had, I wouldn't tell you."
He flicked his hand as if batting away a fly. "That don't matter. I'm guessing it was something handy."
I wouldn't have guessed Skeeter was so talkative. Or analytical. I never asked my grandfather about the weapon. Long and slender. It could have been a tree branch. Or a baseball bat. I found myself wanting to open up to Skeeter about the dream. I decided to ease into it with small talk.
" I think the moon was full that night. Did you notice?"
He frowned. "It was kind of dark. Not a full moon."
I nodded absently, brushing strands of hair out of my face. The hot wind from the open windows had blown it all over my head.
"I read somewhere that the moon is actually black," he said. "Did you know that? People think it's white."
I laughed. "A black moon? I don't think so."
He grinned . "It looks white because the sun's shining on it."
I closed my eyes and tried to visualize the moon as it appeared in my dream. Had it been full? I did a quick Google search on my phone. The night Kate was killed, the moon was in a waxing crescent phase.
Forget about the dream for now .
"Skeeter, when you said I should go deeper into this, what did you mean?"
"I meant you should consider people other than the husband, the dumped boyfriend, and the other rejects. Who else would want to see Kate dead?" I must have been silent a beat too long for his taste. "Come on, girl. Just say it out loud."
I took a deep breath. "A cheated-on wife might want to see her dead."
He nodded. "She might."
"But in this case, she has an alibi."
He smirked. "Right. So if one was asleep, how could he or she be sure the other was there the whole time?"
"You have a point," I said. "But I know Tim and Tessa. They're not murderers."
He cut his eyes at me again. "You probably didn't think Tim would turn out to be a cheater."
In the brief moment we held eye contact, I sensed an undercurrent of excitement. Was this all a game to him?
"You know more than you're saying, don't you?"
"Beware of the evil eyes," he said.
"Huh?"
He kept his eyes on the road, and I couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. Before I could respond, his truck lurched forward. My pulse quickened, and my hands flew up in front of me. The instinctive move kept my chest from slamming into the dashboard. The passenger-side seatbelt hadn't locked with the impact.
The tires screeched as Skeeter cut the steering wheel to the right to keep from running off the road.
"What the hell? Crazy bastard!"
"Who is that?" I said. My heart pounding, I twisted around and saw a black SUV I didn't recognize. The windshield was tinted too dark to see the driver. "And this seatbelt is broken!"
I expected Skeeter to pull over, but he sped up.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna kill that snot-nosed little —"
The driver slammed into the back of the truck again. I didn't have time to brace myself. My body, still twisted in the seat, jerked forward. I hit the dashboard. My right arm took the brunt of the impact. I held my breath against the sharp pain and gripped my arm. "Skeeter, stop this truck!"
But he maintained his speed, sideswiping a mailbox.
Where were the police when you needed them?
"My arm...Skeeter, stop."
"Hold on!"
He made a sharp right, his truck fishtailing. What had I gotten myself into? Skeeter had seemed so rational a minute ago. Now he was acting like the crazy man everybody said he was. I reached for my cell phone, temporarily forgetting that my right arm felt as if it were on fire. The truck swerved left, and so did I.
Before I could tell him again to stop, the words caught in my throat. An oak tree seemed to be moving toward us. He cut the wheel until the driver's side faced the tree. In those seconds, my grandmother's face floated before my eyes. Tires screeched, and the last thing I saw were the squashed innards of a dead bug on the windshield.
Chapter Ten
I read somewhere that the moon is actually black.
A black moon? No,
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