Free Bad Moon (Kat Campbell Mysteries) by Todd Ritter

man had a deep tan, slicked-back hair, and a devil-may-care smile. The woman wore a flowing white dress that fluttered in the breeze. Eric had no idea who they were. Friends of his parents, he assumed. He also had no clue when the picture was taken—certainly years before he, or even Charlie, were born—and he was struck by the sight of his parents in their youth. His mother had been so beautiful then, with a smile brighter and wider than any he had ever seen. His father, too, was good-looking—strong and handsome, with the confidence of someone who had yet to be defeated by life’s disappointments.
    After studying the picture a few moments longer, Eric placed it back in the box with the others. Then he slid the box back into its original position, noticing something unusual just behind it. A large piece of plywood had been propped in front of an alcove beneath the basement steps. It wasn’t meant to hide the space. Bits of darkness could be seen above it and on each side. Rather, it looked to Eric like it was put there to hide something inside the alcove.
    Like more of Charlie’s possessions, Eric thought. Perhaps even a key.
    Sliding the plywood aside, he didn’t see a key or anything that might contain one. But he did find another one of Charlie’s possessions—his bicycle.
    It stood alone in the center of the alcove, unsteadily resting on its kickstand. The front tire was flat. The rear one was badly mangled. Four decades’ worth of cobwebs dangled from their spokes. Rust had taken over the base years ago, and there were too many dents and nicks to count. Yet Eric could still make out bits of blue paint and tiny white marks that he guessed were stars.
    When he slid a hand across its surface, his palm came up black with dust. He wished his mother had shown him the bike when she was still alive. He wished she had opened the door to Charlie’s room and let Eric roam around it. Most of all, he wished his mother had trusted him enough to at least express her suspicions about what happened. And her hope. And her frustration and sadness and regret.
    Tears welled up in Eric’s eyes. He wiped them away with his clean hand. Since Gracey sure as hell didn’t cry, Eric wasn’t going to, either. Not when he still had work to do. He still had to find a key, and other than making him emotional, the trip to the basement had been fruitless.
    Backing out of the alcove, he bumped against the plywood board. It tipped over, landing against the boxes behind it. Eric spun around, startled. What he saw unnerved him even more.
    A map of Pennsylvania has been tacked to the other side of the board. It showed the entire state from border to border. Perry Hollow was marked with a large red circle. Five other spots on the map had similar circles. In the center of each was a thumbtack that held a length of red string in place. Each string stretched to an area outside the map, their ends also secured by tacks. Pinned next to every strand was a newspaper article.
    Eric scanned the entire board, stopping at the string that led to Perry Hollow. The article that accompanied it was illustrated with a picture of Charlie—the same class photo Eric had seen in the box. The headline was a punch to the gut: PERRY HOLLOW BOY, 10, MISSING .
    His gaze jumped to another article. And another. And another. Each one sent his heart racing a little faster and tightened the knot that had suddenly formed in his stomach.
    “Mom,” he said in astonishment, “what the hell were you up to?”

SIX
    There were no arbors at Arbor Shade. As far as Nick could tell, there wasn’t much shade, either. While the name conjured up English gardens and rolling meadows, what he and Kat encountered was a clay-colored building just off the highway. Despite some shrubs by the front door and a smattering of trees on the lawn, the place looked anything but bucolic.
    “Promise me something,” Nick said as they neared the entrance.
    “What?”
    “That you’ll shoot me before