Page 75 of Strangers She Knows

Kellen hadn’t, so she whistled for Luna.

Luna came, nose to the ground, a low growl rumbling through her chest. She was no longer concerned with her socks and garters. She cared only about the smells that to her meant pain and trouble.

Kellen went to the door, latched firmly and with no indication of tampering. Somehow, she felt as if she should knock. So she did.

No answer.

She turned the knob and with the flat of her palm, she pressed open the door.

It didn’t creak.

The smell of heat, blood and pain rolled out.

Kellen’s head swam. She caught the side of the casement.

Rae noticed. “Mommy? Are you okay?”

“I will be. In a minute.” In battle and war, Kellen had smelled death. She hadn’t missed it, but she knew one thing—Jamie was not alive.

The curtains were open. The sun shone in. Even from the doorway she could see blood in spatters on the wall, trails across the floor, and a pool under the table.

As a contrast, the living room and kitchen were almost untouched. The living room was tidy, and only a little bit of blood had made it to the kitchen, splattered across the floor and three cupcakes on a cooling rack. And…and Kellen had to walk across that floor to check the bedroom and bathroom.

The years of being in the military, of seeing death, hadn’t hardened her to the dread she felt now. With each step, she took care where she placed her shoe. She breathed carefully, through her nose, not wanting to taste the odors that pervaded the house. She peeked into the bedroom first.

It was empty of people and of blood.

Nevertheless, she found herself stepping with care as she made her way to the bathroom.

No blood. No Jamie. Thank God.

She retraced her footsteps to the main room, and jumped when she saw Rae by the stove. “What are you doing?”

Calm and prosaic, Rae said, “Jamie forgot to turn off the oven.”

“I suppose she did.” Kellen held out her hand, needing Rae’s touch as much as Rae might need hers. “She’s not here.” Nor had the missing firearms been anywhere in sight. “We’ll have to look over more of the island.”

They left the house together and shut the door.

“We should feed Jamie’s chickens,” Rae said, so they did, and changed their water.

Then they rode west, checking every beach and overlook as they went. Birds of prey and carrion birds wheeled overhead, carefree and uninterested, congregating in the trees and sailing on the winds. Luna barked at them, but on the beaches, the waves roared and crashed, and Kellen and Rae saw nothing, not a trace of blood or the stain of a body.

Kellen and Rae rode through the redwood grove. As always before, the silence was deep and old, filled with secret rustles of branches and the sudden flutter of birds’ wings. But where it had been peaceful before, now the shadows seemed sinister, threatening. Their mission had them spooked, justifiably so, and they rode quickly, eyes straight ahead into the bright sunshine.

The cemetery rested at the high end of the island. Although it wasn’t visible from the house, it wasn’t far, a half mile over a knoll. It had been placed on the incline so the graves overlooked the ocean and caught the breeze. A short rusty iron fence surrounded the consecrated ground. A single California blue oak, forty feet tall, wide-branched and tormented by the prevailing winds, stood at the far end. Between them and the oak were a dozen headstones, grass that needed to be trimmed, and a massive mausoleum engraved MORGADE.

“Should we go in?” Rae looked around as if unsure. “I never have before. It always seemed…impolite.”

“Let me. You wait out here.”

“No.” Rae was most emphatic. “I’m coming with you.”

Kellen headed toward the mausoleum, Rae and Luna on her heels. The glass and iron door hung open, swinging and creaking in the breeze. Kellen stopped Rae and the dog a few feet back and murmured, “Let me look first.” She peered cautiously inside.

A great, tall marble slab stood in the middle of the space, waiting for the arrival of a coffin. That was all.

“She’s not here. Jamie’s not here.” Kellen had truly thought she must be in here. But no. It was empty. So empty.

---