Bad Moon Rising (Pine Deep 3)

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about anything like that. ”

The cop stared hard in his direction, but kept squinting as if he was having a hard time focusing on him. . “Do you have a bicycle, son?”

“Sure. ” The word came out before he could stop it.

“Do you ever ride it on Route A-32?”

Mike hesitated, trying to make it look like he was considering it. “No sir. ”

The cop took a ballpoint pen from his pocket and made a note in his book. Or pretended to. “Are you telling me that you never ride your bicycle on Route A-32 at night?”

Mike hedged. “Not…really. ”

“What does ‘not really’ mean? Do you or don’t you?”

“I guess I do sometimes, like during the summer, but not recently. ”

The cop made another note, and Mike saw him peek upward as he pretended to write, as if hoping to catch a clearer look. For a moment the cop tilted his head as if listening, wincing as he did so, and again confusion clouded his face. “Now tell me, son, have you ever seen other kids riding their bicycles there at night?”

Mike hesitated. “I guess. ”

“What was that, son?”

“Yes, sir. ” Mike avoided direct eye contact. “Sometimes I see other kids, sure. ”

“Have you ever seen any kids playing chicken with cars or trucks on Route A-32 at night?”

“No…no, nothing like that. ”

“Never?”

“No. ”

The cop winced again. “Would you mind turning down the music so we can talk?

Mike just looked at him. He hadn’t turned on the Halloween CDs yet; the store was quiet. “Music?” he asked.

The cop blinked as if surprised either of them had said anything about music. He looked at his notepad for a moment and then shook his head like a dog being harassed by flies. “Look at me, son,” said the cop quietly, and Mike reluctantly raised his eyes. The shimmer in the air between them seemed to intensify.

Could he see it? Mike wondered. He tensed, his legs trembling with the urge to run.

The cop looked at him with blue eyes that were as hard as fists. “Tell me this, son, have you ever played chicken with a car?”

“No. ”

“…or truck…”

“No, never!”

“…or any vehicle of any kind on Route A-32 at night?”

“I swear, Officer, I never did. Nothing like that. ”

The cop looked skeptical, and he inflicted silence on Mike for several long seconds. “You know, son, one of these punk kids actually caused an accident on the road the other night. ”

“Um…really? What happened?” Mike couldn’t believe he was asking that question.

The cop put a finger in his ear and jiggled it around like a swimmer trying to get rid of water. He realized he was doing it, cleared his throat, and consulted his notebook. “Some kid…some evil, nasty little son of a bitch of a kid…was playing chicken with a truck on the road. ”