Free Consider the Crows by Charlene Weir Page A

land and hadn’t bothered to mention it, but he may have thought she already knew about Uncle Howard.
    As she waited at a red light, she rubbed her eyes and told herself it was too early to speculate. She’d only just begun. She didn’t even know anything about the victim yet. What past did this child have? Where did she come from? What happened in her short life that led to murder?
    The light turned green and after a moment of unawareness, Susan drove on. Much of her fatigue came from a sticky feeling of negligence.
    Let’s not get carried away. That instant bond she’d felt with Lynnelle, sensing they shared feelings of abandonment and loneliness and isolation were all in her own mind. Maybe it had been nothing but projection.
    Halfway home, she remembered the cat and with an irritated sigh backtracked to Erle’s market for kitty munchies and flat cans of liver and fish.
    Twenty minutes later, she pulled the pickup into the garage, grabbed the grocery bag and hurried to the house, hoping the damn kitten was all right; she’d been gone a long time. Snapping on the kitchen light, she plunked the bag on the table. “Cat? Where are you?”
    In the doorway to the living room, she looked around with appalled disbelief. Ashes had been excavated from the fireplace and spread across the silver-blue carpet. Smudged paw prints covered the blue flowered couch and oak tables. The kitten, black as a coal miner, high-stepped toward her with its tail erect, nattering delight at her arrival.
    â€œOoh,” she muttered darkly, “your days are numbered.”

7
    G RILLED , C ARENA THOUGHT , closing the door after Lieutenant Parkhurst’s retreating back. Roasted over the coals on one side, then flipped and roasted on the other. She’d felt he never would leave; just sit forever on her couch asking question after question, and making it obvious he didn’t believe anything she said. And why should he? It was riddled with lies.
    Scary man, this Parkhurst. He made her think of Jehovah, the angry God her father knew so well. Thou shalt not tell a lie. Bear false witness, a voice in her head pointed out with pedantic accuracy. How damnable was that one? Probably right up there between Thou shalt not commit adultery and Thou shalt not kill.
    Alexa nudged her knee and looked up anxiously. Carena ran a hand over the dog’s furry head. And that was a stupid thing to do too, offer to keep Lynnelle’s dog until her family was located. She’d known it even as she opened her mouth, but couldn’t stop herself. She’d felt guilty, or angry, or resentful. Or something.
    The tape in her mind constantly replayed itself; the trees and the creek and the body in the water, like a bundle of old clothes, soaked and moving slightly with the current.
    In the bedroom, she punched in a phone number. Phil answered. Damn. She couldn’t talk to Caitlin while her husband was there. She asked for Caitlin, thinking she’d tell her to call back when he was away.
    â€œI thought she was with you,” he said.
    â€œWhat do you mean with me?”
    â€œShe said you called.”
    â€œYes.” She tried not to bristle at the implied accusation. She and Phil had never liked each other but there was no point in antagonizing him.
    â€œShe left a note.” Papers rustled in the background and she pictured him at his very organized desk flipping through a file labeled Problems, Domestic. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Something came up. I’ll call.”
    â€œHas she called?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œWell, when she does would you tell her to call me?”
    â€œSure,” he said and hung up.
    Carena wasn’t so sure he would.
    Sleep was a long time coming that night. Her mind was remembering the awful summer twenty-one years ago. The heat—sticky, oppressive heat—the scared feelings of inadequacy, and the worry, lying awake at night with worry. All the