Crescent Moon - By Lori Handeland Page 0,28

serial killer."

His face went blank. "I never said that."

He hadn't said much, including what he was doing out of his parish. But I could figure it out. Tourists and locals disappearing, some of them turning up in the swamp. When St. Tammany police found a body, it was natural they'd call the man in charge of the original case, see if their corpse matched any of his missing.

"Why do you want to talk to Adam?"

Sullivan lifted his brows at my use of a first name, but he didn't comment. "Dead people keep turning up on his property."

"The others were killed by animals."

"True. But this one is murder, and despite what you see on television, strangling someone isn't easy. You have to be strong and you have to be quick. There's a bit of an art to it One someone like Ruelle would know."

"I heard he was in the Special Forces."

"He was in something," Sullivan muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's a block on his file that requires higher security clearance than I have."

"Bummer," I muttered.

Sullivan scowled. "Do you know where he is or don't you?"

"Don't," I answered with complete truthfulness.

The detective stared at me for several seconds. His stoic glare probably worked on most people, but not on me. He hadn't spent eighteen years with my mother.

"Fine." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a card. "If you see him, call me. Better yet, tell him to call. If he doesn't have anything to hide, we should be able to clear this right up."

"Uh-huh."

Sullivan cut a glance in my direction, but I just smiled as if I hadn't been being sarcastic.

"Who was the victim?" I asked as I walked Sullivan to the door.

"We don't know."

"Come on, Detective, the name's going to get out eventually."

"I hope so; then I'd know it." He shook his head. "This guy had no ID."

"Stolen?'

"Maybe. But his money clip was still in his pocket. His fingerprints didn't pop. There isn't a missing persons report that fits his description."

"If he's a tourist, it might take a while for anyone to notice he's gone."

Sullivan seemed about to say something more, then tightened his lips and kept further comments to himself. Considering this was shaping up to be a murder investigation, I didn't blame him.

"If you think of anything that might be useful," he stepped onto the porch, "let me know."

With a nod, I shut the door. I probably should have told Sullivan I'd been in the swamp last night, but I hadn't killed the guy and I hadn't seen anything.

Except a wolf or something like one.

A lie was a lie, even if it was by omission. However, I didn't want to be dragged downtown for questioning when I had an appointment with a one-hour photo shop.

"If mere's anything on that film that'll help, I'll take the picture directly to the police station." I put my hand over my heart. "Swear."

Since there was no one to hear my vow, it wasn't really binding, but I felt better anyway.

I took a sponge bath, brushed my teeth in a bowl. I didn't mind camping, but the lack of a shower was a definite drawback. I'd have to rent a cheap hotel room once, maybe twice, a week, or I wouldn't be able to stand myself.

Grabbing the gun and my camera, two things I did not want to lose - though from the age of the garbage I'd removed from the inside of the house, no one had stayed there for months - I went out the door.

What could have spooked the homeless away from such a good flop spot? Had word gotten out that people were dying?

I shivered despite the early-morning heat. Not for the first time I questioned the wisdom of remaining in the swamp alone.

After tucking the pistol into the trunk with my computer, I headed for town. I probably should have unloaded the weapon - I wasn't exactly clear on the transportation-of-firearms rules around here - but the idea of having the bullets in one place, the gun in another, a rabid wolf or even a serial killer chasing me around and around and around... I decided I'd take my chances with the police.

I easily found a one-hour photo shop, dropped off the film, and headed to the library for a little research. This early in the morning the place was cool and deserted. Just the way I liked it

A quick trip through the search engine netted me nothing. Unless the Ruelles had written a book or had one