Blood Moon (A Hope Herring Mystery Book 2) by J A Whiting & Nell McCarthy

Author:J A Whiting & Nell McCarthy
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: J A Whiting Books and Whitemark Publishing
Published: 2020-07-30T22:00:00+00:00

Hope,

I hope Carter has helped you in your hour of need. She really does like to help people, which is why she asked me to reach out. Attached, you will find a phone number and email address for ‘Sherlock,’ the friend of Bethany, that Carter mentioned. His mother says he’s devastated by Bethany’s death. I hope this helps.

Sincerely,

Sandra

Hope stared at the message. She wasn’t quite prepared for the quick response from Carter’s mother. It was amazing how the grapevine worked in Castle Park. All she had to do was ask, and someone would provide the information. Well, provide some information. There wasn’t a way to know if the information was true or exaggerated, or made up completely. She supposed, as in most places, reality was neither as good nor as bad as what was provided.

She finished her email and turned back to the laptop and those stupid locked files. How was she going to open them? And if she did, would they add anything to what she already knew? She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she knew absolutely that she wouldn’t rest until she had read the files.

Feeling that the task required more brain than brawn, Hope left the office and got ready for bed. She found Cori in her bedroom, on her tablet computer.

“I have a question.”

“I have an answer,” Cori said. “I hope they match.”

“Me, too. Know anybody who might wear a skull bandana and drive a white pickup?”

“Yup. Mrs. Zalar.”

“Mrs. Zalar? She’s over sixty, probably doesn’t own a bandana of any kind, and drives a Ford Taurus.”

“Yes, but I don’t like Mrs. Zalar, so if you’re looking for someone who did something bad, I’d vote for her.”

“So, you’re getting back at her for something?”

“No, but she’s mean and I don’t like her.”

“You’re not being very helpful.”

“Well, if it’s not Mrs. Zalar, then I don’t know anyone who fits the description.”

“Okay. If anyone pops into your head, or if you happen to see someone driving a white truck and wearing a bandana, let me know.” Hope kissed her daughter. “Get some sleep.”

Hope slept soundly, knowing Max was keeping watch. In the morning, after breakfast, she and Cori got into the SUV, and they headed for New Bern.

“I was reading about New Bern,” Cori said. “It’s one of the oldest cities in North Carolina. It’s always been important for trade.”

“Rivers were the first superhighways,” Hope said. “They were the pathways to the interior.”

“Are we going to see where Pepsi was invented?”

“We are indeed.”

“But we’re not going to the Dungeon, are we?”

“We might stop by and talk to someone, but we will definitely not go inside. I’d like to talk with someone Beth dated.”

They were halfway to New Bern, when Hope’s phone chirped and she pulled to the side of the road. She looked at the screen and failed to recognize the number. Still, she answered.

“Hello,” Hope said.

“Hope Herring?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Tom Denison, and I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

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