Blood Moon: A Kate Burkholder Short Mystery

By Linda Castillo

Chief of Police Kate Burkholder confronts a mysterious beast terrorizing the residents of Painters Mill in this original short mystery "Blood Moon" from bestselling author Linda Castillo.

On a foggy spring night, an Amish man crashes his buggy after a large, unidentified animal spooks his horse. Kate Burkholder arrives on scene to find the man shaken and bleeding, claiming he was attacked by a large beast. But his description of the creature sounds like something straight out of the Amish folklore from Kate’s childhood. Throughout the night, more incidents of an aggressive animal on the loose are reported, putting the citizens of Painters Mill on edge. There’s a monster menacing the countryside, and Kate must follow its tracks into the dark woods along Painters Creek before violence tips over into tragedy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Apr 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781250871909

Linda Castillo

LINDA CASTILLO is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Kate Burkholder series, set in the world of the Amish. The first book, Sworn to Silence, was adapted into a Lifetime original movie titled An Amish Murder starring Neve Campbell as Kate Burkholder. Castillo is the recipient of numerous industry awards. In addition to writing, Castillo’s other passion is horses. She lives in Texas with her husband and is currently at work on her next book.

Book preview

Merle Beachy was late. The Strawberry Festival ended at 9:00 P.M., but he’d stayed to help Deacon Yoder load pallets into his wagon. By the time they finished it was after ten and he still had an hour’s drive. Now, not only was Merle going to get an earful from his wife, but he’d likely miss out on a hot dinner and that piece of pie he’d been pining for all afternoon.

Thinking about pie, he jiggled the leather lines against the gelding’s rump and clucked, sending the horse into a long trot. Kumma druff! Come on now.

Merle didn’t like being on the highway this time of night; there were too many cars and the Englishers were always in a hurry. Tonight, he’d opted for the back roads. It would add a few miles to his drive, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting run over.

The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the fog. It had rolled in about an hour ago and settled in thick as peanut butter. Visibility was down to less than a quarter mile and getting worse by the minute. Merle was glad he’d installed the battery-powered headlights last month. Not that they helped much, but at least an approaching driver would see him and have time to slow down.

The gelding’s steel shoes clicked sharply against the oak span as the buggy entered the old covered bridge. Chilled by the damp, Merle reached into the back seat for the afghan and draped it over his legs. As the buggy exited the bridge, the trees closed over the narrow road like giant, arthritic fingers, creating a tunnel-like ambiance. Overhead, a blood moon gave the fog an eerie reddish glow.

He was thinking about that piece of pie when he heard something crash through the undergrowth to his left. He caught a glimpse of movement and then the horse bolted.

Whoa! Merle tugged on the lines.

The gelding lunged into a gallop, head high, steel shoes sliding on asphalt.

Whoa! Easy, boy!

The horse left the road and plunged into the ditch, out of control and moving fast. The buggy bounced over the rough terrain, headlights playing wildly over the fog and trees. The gelding charged up the opposite side of the ditch, mud sucking at its hooves, barreling toward the trees, not enough room for the buggy to squeeze through …

"Whoa! Whoa!"

The right front panel of the buggy slammed into a tree trunk. Wood crunched. The momentum of the impact threw Merle across the seat. His shoulder struck the panel, spinning him, and he was flung out the door.

He hit the ground hard, rolled, and came to rest against a sapling. He lay still for a second, taking physical inventory. He was aware of wet grass against his cheek. Mud soaking into his trousers where his hip was against the ground. Nothing broken, but he was definitely going to have a bruise or two.

Groaning, Merle sat up and looked around. A few yards away, the horse had stopped. The old boy was unhurt, nibbling at the tall grass. A single headlight still burned, illuminating billowing fog in an ocean of trees. Hopefully, the buggy wasn’t damaged and he could be on his way.

Using a sapling for support, Merle struggled to his feet. He stood, brushing twigs and leaves from his trousers, and looked around. Fog hovered among the trees. There was no movement or sound. No indication that anything was there. His buggy horse, Biscuit, was experienced and calm. What in the world had frightened him?

The crunch of something moving through the brush sounded scant feet away. Startled, Merle swung around, saw a bush quiver. He stared, listening, the hairs at his nape standing on end.

Hello? he called out, his voice sounding strange in the hushed silence of the woods. "Who’s