Don

by Carlene Thompson

  She looked back at the dog, thinking. It had gotten the blood on its neck from Tamara, but only her face was showing. There was no sign that the dog had trampled over the honeysuckle to reach Tamara. The dog must have been around the body-the bloody body-before the limb had fallen. Tamara was already dead when the limb fell. Could she have been struck by lightning?

  The dog came to stand by her, making an occasional noise that sounded like an attempt at speech. Natalie kneeled and took the dog's face in her hands. "You tried to help her, didn't you? You tried to help the pretty lady-"

  Natalie's voice broke. Tamara was a pretty lady no more.

  Dear Tam who was kind and gentle, who had always tried so hard to live up to everyone's expectations. And this is how she'd ended. It was beyond unfair. Natalie felt like screaming her rage, her frustration, her shock. But she had to stay in control for Lily's sake. She could do nothing for Tamara, but she could get Lily through the horror.

  Natalie paced back and forth. Shadows fell on her. She glanced up. The vultures circled overhead, waiting for her to leave their feast. She wanted to throw up. She could not look at Tamara. She felt small and cold and helpless and she wished her father were here. He was always a rock in an emergency. She hadn't really thought about that before. She'd only thought about how exasperating his iron control could be, not how comforting it was at the right time. She needed it now.

  It seemed as if Lily had been gone for an hour, but when Natalie saw her coming back down Hyacinth Lane, she glanced at her watch and saw it had been only minutes. Lily didn't move as quickly and purposely as she had when she left. Her gait had a slight wandering quality. Please let her hold on for a while longer until Tamara can be taken away from here, Natalie thought.

  "Did you get the police?" she called before Lily reached her.

  "I got some deputy at first. He seemed to think I was joking. Some joke," Lily said roughly. "Then Sheriff Meredith got on the phone. He didn't ask a lot of stupid questions. He said he'd be here immediately." She stopped in front of Natalie, white to her lips as if every ounce of blood had drained from her usually vibrant face. "And I called Dad."

  Oliver Peyton was a descendent of Port Ariel royalty. He'd inherited money, but it hadn't stopped him from pursuing his law practice with a vengeance. He had a reputation for being frighteningly intelligent and a dreaded opponent in the courtroom. Natalie remembered him as slim, dapper, and haughty.

  "Is your father on his way?" Natalie asked.

  "He was out. The housekeeper, Mrs. Ebert, went to pieces, but I told her she had to pull it together and locate Dad and Warren. She thinks she knows where Warren is staying in Cleveland." She raised her hands helplessly. "I feel like I should be doing something else for Tam."

  "There isn't anything else to do. You've called the right people and you're staying with her."

  "I haven't even looked at her."

  "You don't need to."

  "Is it that bad?" Lily's eyes met hers and Natalie nodded reluctantly. "The vultures?"

  "Yes. But she was dead when they came. She didn't feel them."

  "We can't be sure of that. We can't be sure of anything." Lily's bleak gaze trailed the length of the thick limb covering her sister. "Tam hated storms. Why would she stay out here until the lightning got close enough to strike the tree?"

  Natalie didn't want to bring up her theory that a falling limb didn't kill Tamara, and raise questions she couldn't answer. "You know how fast storms come up around here."

  "Not so fast Tam couldn't get back to her house. It's nearly in sight."

  "I don't know, Lily. Maybe she went to Ariel Saunders's house, stayed too long, and got caught in the worst of the storm."

  "The worst of the storm didn't hit until around ten. She would have been home waiting for Warren 's call."

  "We were in Panache. We don't know exactly when the storm was at its worst here."

  "But-" Lily broke off and her face crumpled. A long, racking sob shook her. Natalie rushed to her, catching her before she fell, and gently lowered her to the ground. Another sob tore at Lily's throat. "Oh, Nat, I can't believe it. My little sister. She was three minutes younger, you know. Three minutes…"

  "I remember," Natalie said gently, rocking Lily's shuddering body.

  "We were more than sisters. We knew what the other was thinking, feeling. We knew when the other was in trouble. At least Tam knew when I was in trouble."

  "You knew about her, too. You knew something was wrong last night. That's why you kept dreaming about the dog."

  "But I didn't see Tam in the dream!"

  "You can't tear yourself apart because you're not completely psychic. And Tamara probably died instantly. You couldn't have saved her."

  "You don't know that!"

  Natalie felt huge relief when she heard sirens. Thank goodness help was coming because she didn't know how much longer she could keep Lily from getting hysterical. A police car was first to arrive. Lily must have given them precise directions because they pulled onto Hyacinth Lane, not Tamara's driveway. An ambulance followed close behind.

  "I don't think I can talk to anyone," Lily quavered.

  "I'll handle it." Natalie watched a tall, slim man with black hair emerge from the police car. She stood up as he approached.

  "Miss Peyton?" he asked in a deep voice.

  "No, Natalie St. John. This is Lily Peyton." She motioned to Lily sitting limply on the grass. "She's not feeling well. I found Tamara."

  His deep blue eyes flashed to Lily, then back to Natalie. "How long ago did you discover Mrs. Hunt?"

  "Around twenty minutes."

  "Did you touch anything?"

  "No. She turned and looked at the tree limb. The dog sat beside it as if on guard. "She's partially under there."

  "Is that your dog?"

  "No, it's a stray. I think it found Tamara last night…" She trailed off, not wanting to explain about the blood on the dog's neck. "We're trying to locate Mrs. Hunt's husband."

  "All right." He looked at Lily and said in a gentler voice, "I'll have to ask you a few questions later, Miss Peyton."

  Lily nodded. He turned to Natalie. "Will the dog bite?"

  "I don't think so, but I'll call it, anyway." She whistled. The dog responded hesitantly as the sheriff, a deputy, and emergency technicians headed for the body. Natalie sank down on the grass beside Lily. Another police car arrived. More deputies spilled from it. She stroked the dog's head as they watched the police peer through the leaves and the honeysuckle. Someone began taking photos from all angles. Natalie pictured exactly what they were seeing. Thank goodness Lily couldn't.

  "I wish Dad were here," Lily said dully. "He always knows what to do. I'm no help at all."

  "Even your father couldn't help, Lily. It's all up to the police now."

  "But this isn't really a police matter. It was an accident. I don't understand why they're taking all those pictures."

  Because they aren't sure what happened, either, Natalie thought uneasily. "The police come even if it's an accident. Besides, they have to retrieve Tamara's body."

  "What's goin' on?"

  A strikingly good-looking boy of about twelve stood in front of them, balancing his bike beside him. Natalie hadn't noticed his arrival.

  "There's been an accident," she said. "You really shouldn't be here."

  "Is someone dead?" the boy asked, his dark eyes snapping with excitement.

  "Yes. Now please-"

  "Jimmy!" A woman strode down the lane. Jeans covered her ample thighs and her denim shirt hung free. "I told you to stay away from here."

  "Mom, someone's dead!" the boy called.

  "Dead! Oh my!" She halted. She had a tired prettiness with dark eyes like the boy's, only hers were surrounded by faint shadows of fatigue. She looked at Lily. "Tam-no, Lily?"

  "Yes, Beth." Lily turned to Natalie. "This is Beth Jenkins, Tam's neighbor."

  "What's wrong?" Beth asked, coming toward them. "Jimmy said someone's dead."
/>   "It's Tam," Lily said shakily. "She's under that limb."

  "Mrs. Hunt?" The boy's face blanched, the excitement fading from his eyes. "Tamara?"

  "I'm afraid it is," Lily said.

  Beth's hand flew to her mouth. She looked fearfully at the police gathered around the site. "What happened?"

  Before anyone could answer, someone called out, "Do the Hunts have a chain saw in their garage?"

  Lily shrugged. "I don't know."

  "We've got one," Jimmy Jenkins said. "I know right where it is."

  Sheriff Meredith glanced up. "Hello, Jimmy," he called. "Sure your dad has a chain saw?"

  " 'Course I'm sure. Are you sure that's Tamara? I mean, she's too young to be dead. And too nice. Maybe it's somebody we don't know," he ended hopefully.

  "Jimmy, we'll worry about positive identification later," the sheriff said with a trace of sympathy in his voice. "Let's get that chain saw now."

  He spoke to two deputies, who immediately walked toward Jimmy. 'Follow me," Jimmy directed unnecessarily and he took off on his bike.

  Beth twisted her hands together. "Lily, what can I do? Bring you some tea or lemonade? It's getting hot and you look like death. Oh!" Distress flashed across her face. "I didn't mean that. You look lovely. Both you and Tamara are such pretty girls. She came over yesterday and she was positively glowing. Oh! I can't say anything right!" A tear ran down Beth's right cheek. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe this. She was so kind. I'm so busy with the other kids. Jimmy was always dropping in on her. She gave him lemonade and cookies and talked to him and never complained about him being a pest. I think he had a crush on her. Oh, this is awful!"

  Lily said gently, "Why don't you go home and help Jimmy find that chain saw, Beth? Natalie's with me and Dad will be here soon."

  Natalie saw emotions tugging behind the woman's distressed eyes. She wanted to be of service, but she also wanted to escape the terrible scene. The latter desire won. "Well, if you're sure."

  "I am. Thank you, Beth."

  The woman turned and nearly ran down the dirt lane toward the street. Lily shook her head. "Tam really liked Beth. And she thought Beth was so lucky-she has four kids. Jimmy is the oldest. Tam wanted children so much." Suddenly she moaned and buried her head in her hands. "I was devastated when Mom died. Now I'm glad she's gone. This would have hurt her so deeply she would never have recovered. Dad is stronger."

  Men returned with the chain saw. Jimmy was in hot pursuit, but they stopped him before he could get near the site of Tamara's body. He stood, balancing his bicycle beside him, watching the activity. Someone revved up the chain saw.

  Lily closed her eyes. "It's bad enough that she's dead, but to be trapped like that-" A shudder ran through her. "My sister wasn't supposed to die this way."

  The roar of the chain saw ripped through the beautiful afternoon. "Watch it!" a man shouted. "You don't want to cut off her legs!" Lily leaned forward as if she were going to faint. "Please tell me this is a nightmare and I'll wake up."

  "I wish I could."

  "I'm not going to face it now." Lily clambered to her feet and began pacing around. "No, I'm not going to face it now. I can't."

  "Lily, please sit down. You're so pale."

  "I can't." She wrapped her arms around herself as she trampled aimlessly through the tall grass and weeds at the side of the dirt road. "I just don't understand. This doesn't make any sense. Tam wouldn't have stayed out in a storm…" She frowned, then bent down to pick up a piece of paper.

  "What is it?" Natalie asked.

  Lily looked at it for a couple of seconds and said in shock, "What in the world?"

  Natalie came to her, holding out her hand. Lily gave her a piece of white paper, blistered from water damage. On it was typed in blurry letters, their throat is an open tomb. The right side of the paper bore a red stain.

  "It was under those leaves. Where do you suppose it came from?"

  Natalie looked at the red stain, then at the site of Tam's body. Forty to fifty feet away. She knew. "It's probably nothing," she said carelessly to an already distraught Lily, tucking the note in her pocket.

  "Why are you doing that?" Lily demanded. "It's wet and dirty. You think it has something to do with Tam, don't you?"

  "Probably not." Natalie looked up. "Thank goodness. Here's your father."

  Down the lane Oliver Peyton climbed out of a black Lexus. His silvering fair hair shone in the light, perfect as always, but as he drew closer Natalie saw that his face was almost as gray as his expensive suit. His eyes had a wide, staring quality as if he'd just seen something startling. Natalie had always thought he seemed like the coldest man she'd ever met except when it came to the girls. He'd been an adoring and indulgent parent, and Natalie had envied the twins' easy relationship with their father. It lacked all the prickliness of hers with Andrew. "Lily," Oliver called, his usually precise voice reedy and unsure.

  "Dad, I'm so glad you're here."

  Oliver stopped in front of her and took her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Lily, Mrs. Ebert told me you called. She said Tamara is dead. She's obviously mistaken. Now I want you to tell me calmly and clearly what is going on."

  Lily gazed up at him. "Dad, it's true. Tam is dead."

  "No, no, that can't be right," Oliver insisted. "Now think about what you're saying-"

  "She's dead!" Lily blurted, tears spilling over her pale cheeks. "Tam is dead."

  Sheriff Meredith appeared. Oliver Peyton was only about five foot ten and Meredith seemed to tower over him. "Mr. Peyton, your daughter is dead," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry."

  "I want to see her."

  "No, sir, you don't."

  "Why?" Oliver demanded. "You don't even know if it's my daughter."

  "It is, Mr. Peyton," Natalie said. "I saw her."

  Oliver looked at her indignantly. "And who are you?"

  "Oh, Dad, it's Natalie St. John." Lily sounded as if she were reaching the end of her endurance. "She says it's Tam and her body is not in good shape. You see, there were these vultures-"

  Her voice broke. Oliver's smooth face blanched. Sheriff Meredith's eyes flashed sympathy but his manner remained businesslike as the chain saw continued its relentless grinding in the background. "Mr. Peyton, we don't know exactly how your daughter died. It looks like lightning struck a limb and it fell on her." Natalie's gaze cut to his. He paused for a couple of seconds, then went on. "Why don't you take your daughter home? We'll be here a while and then we'll take the body in for an autopsy."

  Oliver and Lily winced. Natalie glared. Did this guy have to be so brutal? Lily was right-he was a jerk.

  "I'm not going anywhere," Oliver announced.

  "Dad, please," Lily said weakly. A sheen of perspiration covered her ashen face and her hands trembled. "I have to get away from here and I can't drive."

  "Oh, darling." Oliver seemed to really see Lily for the first time. "I need to stay. Can't Natalie take you home?"

  "No, Dad, I need you. I want to go to your house-our house. Please. There's nothing we can do here." She handed a set of keys to Natalie. "You can drive my car home."

  Natalie nodded although she couldn't drive a four-speed. She didn't want to burden Lily with worries about the car, though. She'd leave it in Tamara's driveway and get a ride with someone.

  "There's nothing you can do here," the sheriff said in a gentler tone. "Please take care of your daughter, and I'll stop by your house later with any news."

  Oliver wasn't looking well himself and reluctantly he nodded. Natalie and Sheriff Meredith watched as the two trudged to the Lexus and drove slowly away. Then Meredith turned to her, pinning her with a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. "You don't think Mrs. Hunt was killed by a falling branch."

  "No, I don't. I believe this stray dog was around the body last night. It has dried blood all over its neck. Sometimes dogs and wolves will stretch their necks over the neck of one of their kind or a person to protect them. I think that's what this dog did with Tamara,
but as I'm sure you can see, there's no way it could have gotten in position to do so with Tam under the limb. The limb fell after Tam was down."

  Meredith frowned, looked at her, looked at the dog, looked at the area where Tamara lay, then looked back at Natalie. "I never heard of dogs doing anything like that. Why?"

  "Because a predator goes for the throat. The stronger one protects the weaker one's throat from attack."

  "How do you know all of this?"

  "I'm a veterinarian."

  "Are you sure that's what happened?"

  "No, I'm not sure. Not all dogs do it. This dog doesn't have blood around its mouth as if it had killed and eaten something, though. The blood is only around the neck, but there is no injury in the neck area. And there's something else." From the pocket in her slacks she withdrew the note Lily had found. "Take a look at this."

  " 'Their throat is an open tomb.' " Meredith's blue eyes flashed back at her. "Where did you get this?"

  "Lily found it right over there." She nodded to the spot. "There were some leaves lying over most of it or rain would have obliterated the typing. I think that's blood on the edge."

  "You think this note was left on her body?"

  "Blood on the dog, blood on the note. The wind could have blown the note off the body." Meredith gave her a piercing look. She suddenly felt ridiculous, standing here spouting theories, but she couldn't stop. "The wind probably couldn't have blown the note free if it were trapped under all that foliage, though, so I think the limb fell later, after Tam was dead. Or injured," she trailed off, wilting under the intense blue gaze.

  A piece of the limb crashed loose and the chain saw stopped. Natalie and Meredith watched as a male deputy dragged away debris and a female deputy moved closer to Tamara's body. In a moment she turned around. "Sheriff, I think you'd better take a look."

  Meredith glanced at Jimmy Jenkins, who hovered nearby. "Jimmy, go home." Then he looked at her. "Dr. St. John, you stay here."

  "I'll stay with you," Jimmy said staunchly. "You look like you could use a man around."

  "Thank you," Natalie said, appreciating his offer. She kneeled by the dog, fondling its ears, talking to it, trying to shut out the horror of the situation. The dog licked her hands as if in gratitude. Gratitude for a few kind words and a gentle touch, Natalie thought, her throat tightening. Poor Tam. Poor dog. God, what a wretched day.