34

The Free Library had a great number of books on the subject of the moon. Far too many to make any immediate sense of in a way that might help with the investigation.

Before leaving the Roundhouse Jessica ran “moon” through NCIC, VICAP, and the other national law-enforcement databases. The bad news was that perps who used the moon as the basis for their MO tended to be compulsive killers. She had teamed the word with others—specifically “blood” and “semen”—and gotten nothing of use.

With the help of a librarian Jessica selected a sampling of moon-related books from each section.

Jessica sat behind two stacks in a private room on the first floor. First she browsed through the books that dealt with the moon in a scientific sense. There were books about how to observe the moon, books about exploring the moon, books about the physical characteristics of the moon, amateur astronomy, the Apollo missions, maps and atlases of the moon. Jessica had never been all that good with the sciences. She felt her attention waning, her eyes glazing over.

She turned to the other stack. This one held more promise. These were books that dealt with the moon and folklore, as well as the iconology of the heavens.

After skimming some of the introductions, and making notes, Jessica discovered that the moon seemed to be represented in folklore in five different phases: new, full, crescent, half, and gibbous, a state between half and full. The moon was prominent in tales from every country and culture, for as long as literature was recorded—Chinese, Egyptian, Arabic, Hindu, Nordic, African, Native American, European. Where there was myth and faith, there were tales about the moon.

In religious folklore, some pictures of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary showed the moon as a crescent under her feet. In stories that present the crucifixion, it is shown as an eclipse placed on one side of the cross, while the sun is placed on the other.

There were also a great number of Biblical references. In Revelations there was “a woman clothed with the sun, standing on the moon, and with the twelve stars on her head for a crown.” In Genesis: “God made the two great lights: the greater light to govern the day, the smaller light to govern the night, and the stars.”

There were tales where the moon was feminine, tales where the moon was masculine. In Lithuanian folklore, the moon was the husband, the sun was the wife, and the Earth was their child. One tale from British folklore held that if you were robbed three days after a full moon, the thief would be quickly caught.

Jessica’s head spun with the images and the concepts. Within two hours, she had five pages of notes.

The last book she opened was dedicated to illustrations of the moon. Woodcuts, etchings, watercolors, oils, charcoal. She found illustrations by Galileo from Sidereus Nuncius. There were a number of tarot illustrations.

Nothing looked like the drawing found on Kristina Jakos.

Still, something told Jessica that there was a distinct possibility that the pathology of the man they sought was rooted in some kind of folklore, perhaps the type Father Greg had described to her.

Jessica checked out a half dozen books.

As she exited the library she glanced at the winter sky. She wondered if Kristina Jakos’s killer was waiting for the moon.

AS JESSICA CROSSED the parking lot, her mind alive with images of witches, goblins, fairy princesses, and ogres, she found it hard to believe that this stuff hadn’t scared the living hell out of her when she’d been small. She remembered reading some of the shorter fairy tales to Sophie when her daughter had been three and four, but none of them seemed as bizarre and violent as some of the stories she had run across in these books. She had never given it much thought, but some of the tales were downright lurid.

Halfway across the parking lot, before she reached her car, she sensed someone approaching from her right. Fast. Her instincts told her it was trouble. She spun quickly, her right hand instinctively throwing back the hem of her coat.

It was Father Greg.

Calm down, Jess. It’s not the big, bad wolf. Just an orthodox priest.

“Well, hello,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here and all that.”

“Hello there.”

“I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“You didn’t,” she lied.

Jessica glanced down. Father Greg had a book in his hands. Incredibly, it looked like a volume of fairy tales.

“Actually, I was going to call you later today,” he said.

“Really? Why is that?”

“Well, since we spoke, I kind of got the bug about all this,” he said. He held up the book. “As you might imagine, folk tales and fables aren’t really big in the church. We have a whole lot of hard-to-believe stuff already.”

Jessica smiled. “Roman Catholics have their share.”

“I was going to search through these stories and see if I could find a ‘moon’ reference for you.”

“That’s kind of you, but it’s not necessary.”

“It’s really no problem at all,” Father Greg said. “I love to read.” He nodded at a vehicle, a late-model van parked nearby. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve got my car.”

He glanced at his watch. “Well, I’m off to the world of snowmen and ugly ducklings,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“That would be good,” Jessica said. “Thanks.”

He walked to the van, opened the door, and turned back to Jessica. “Perfect night for it, too.”

“What do you mean?”

Father Greg smiled. “It’s going to be a Christmas moon.”