Girl With The Origami Butterfly

by Linda Berry

  Sidney looked from Miguel to David. “Sounds like a warning.”

  “Ominous,” David agreed.

  “Did the buyer get a copy of the inscription?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, he would interpret its meaning in a very personal way,” she spoke slowly, feeling her way through her thoughts.

  “Naturally. It’s the hexagram he attracted.”

  “How so?”

  “When you consult the I Ching, you don’t choose the outcome. The hexagram chooses you. It responds to the question you need to have answered at the time.” He paused, peering at her over his glasses. “I can demonstrate by giving you a reading. Would you like to cast a hexagram?”

  Deeply curious, Sidney nodded.

  Miguel opened a carved wooden box on his desk and pulled out a purple drawstring bag and a folded cloth of gold brocade. He spread the cloth on the surface of the desk, opened the velvet bag, and three tarnished brass coins slipped out. Each coin was embossed with worn Chinese characters and had a square hole in the center. “These coins have passed through many hands over the years. Please hold them for a minute to make them your own.”

  Sidney picked up the coins and warmed them in her closed hand.

  “Think about a question you want answered,” Miguel instructed.

  Wanting to lighten her tense mood, she responded with a chuckle. “Will I be getting a substantial bonus at the end of the year?”

  Miguel cast her a sobering glance. “I see you don’t take the I Ching seriously, Chief Becker. I suggest you suspend your disbelief. Otherwise the answer you get back will reflect your disbelief.”

  Sidney put up her hands. “Sorry.”

  “This reading can enable you to see the truth through surface appearances and restore your connection to a deeper meaning within your experience.”

  Feeling chastened, Sidney realized she could use a good dose of enlightenment.

  “Close your eyes. Open yourself and listen. Find your question and hold it in your awareness.”

  With eyes closed, Sidney took a few moments to quiet her thoughts, to block out the art gallery and the two men seated in the room. As she shifted her consciousness from the exterior world to her interior self, her shoulders relaxed, and soon her single most pressing question surfaced and burned brightly in her mind. Will I identity a ruthless killer in the near future, and make an arrest? Sidney imagined the question going out into the great unknown, to whatever existed beyond her mind’s feeble ability to understand. She opened her eyes and murmured. “My question is out there.”

  “Very good.” Miguel said, his face quiet and luminous. “Now toss the three coins.”

  Sidney willed the coins to give her guidance as she tossed them onto the cloth.

  After studying the coins, Miguel drew an unbroken line on a blank sheet of paper. “Toss them five more times.”

  Each time Sidney dropped the coins on the golden cloth, Miguel added a broken, or an unbroken line, until the stack of six was completed. He thumbed through the book of I Ching until he found the desired page. “Here it is. You cast hexagram sixty-three. Aftermath. One who stands above things, brings them to completion.”

  Aftermath. Completion. Good omens, implying success.

  Miguel handed Sidney the book and she read out loud:

  “Water over Fire: the condition after completion. There is an obvious threat that the Water can extinguish the Fire, or that the flame can cause the water to evaporate. Water always moves downward, fire always burns upward. Beware of becoming overly confident or too complacent.”

  An interpretation of each line was written beneath the reading by a Chinese scholar. She retreated into silence as she continued to read. A warning murmured in a distant region of her mind.

  “What is it?” David asked.

  She cleared her throat. “Lines four and six hold warnings. Line four says:

  “Appearances can be deceiving, and the situation shows signs of decay. While everything appears stable, remain on guard because it can deteriorate very rapidly.”

  “And line six?” David asked.

  “The head gets wet. Danger. Getting the head wet is the idea of patting yourself on the back or getting too emotional when clear thinking and action is required.”

  “You look troubled, Chief Becker,” Miguel said, pushing his glasses to the top of his head. “Don’t make quick assumptions about this reading. The I Ching is not a simple book to understand. When you use it to peer into your future, it’s like unfolding and discovering yourself. This can take place over a period of hours, days, even weeks. If you listen closely, it will tell you when to accept your circumstances, when you need to change, when to fight, when to retreat, or when to step around the obstacle that stops you.”

  “I understand, Miguel. Is it possible to get a photocopy of my hexagram and the one on the butterfly?”

  “Sure. My copier is in the other room. I’ll be right back.” He took the book and left.

  Sidney lowered her head and massaged the space between her eyebrows with the pad of her middle finger. The weight of the burden she carried, her lack of sleep, and the grueling pace she had set for herself since Samantha’s murder seemed to hit her all at once. She felt mentally and physically exhausted.

  “Hey, don’t look so dejected,” David said. “The world didn’t just come to an end. It’s just a book. You could cast another hexagram and get something entirely different.”

  “I’m not superstitious, David, and I don’t believe in omens, but this hexagram hits close to home. It warns of danger and my case deteriorating.”

  “The prophecy also says completion. That’s a good thing.” David placed a hand on hers in her lap. “This time tomorrow, your perp could be behind bars.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “You’ll be fine.” David exuded strength and wellbeing and a kind of calmly contained energy. “Just be careful.”

  She forced a smile. “I’m always careful.”

  He smiled back, but Sidney read concern in his eyes.

  Miguel walked in and handed her the photocopies.

  “Just to be clear, Miguel, the I Ching does not forecast your fate, correct?” David asked. Sidney knew the question had been for her benefit.

  “There’s no such thing as fate,” Miguel said with confidence. “We each decide the course of our own life journey. Free will is a universal law. The Oracle will never tell you what to do, much less bind you to a predetermined outcome beyond your control.”

  “Thank you, Miguel,” David said.

  “You’ve been a big help,” Sidney said with warm appreciation.

  He shook their hands. His was firm, smooth, soft. “Just catch this killer, Chief Becker.”

  Sidney and David stepped out of the gallery to discover the wind had picked up its intensity and brooding storm clouds were racing inland, threatening a torrential downpour. Her hair whipped across her face and she pulled her jacket tighter around her. They walked in silence the two blocks to the Yukon, still parked in the lot at the station.

  “Give me your keys,” David said. “I’m driving. You need a break.”

  Sidney gratefully fished her keys from her handbag. “Thank you.”

  Any attempt to beat the looming storm was futile. When David left the narrow streets of the beach community and turned onto the highway, Sidney’s feeling of foreboding deepened. The gray asphalt ribbon snaked through towering walls of dense forest, and a ceiling of black clouds clung to the treetops, darkening the day. Less than halfway home, the sky opened up. Their headlights burrowed through sheets of hard driving rain that bounced off the hood in little explosions. The wipers slashed the windshield, and the wind pushed against the Yukon with muscular force. David tightly gripped the wheel as he concentrated on keeping the vehicle within the margins of the road. Sidney was relieved to be in the passenger seat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  SELENA DROVE TWO MILES north up the highway f
rom Ann’s farm, then made a right turn down a long, well-paved driveway to the edge of the lake. Surrounded on three sides by forest, Derek’s large home had clean lines and lots of windows facing the water. The front lawn rolled down to the glittering shoreline where a sailboat and motorboat bobbed at the dock. The Asian-style landscaping was simple yet beautiful, with Japanese maples, bamboo, and statuary placed as focal points, and a graceful wooden bridge arching over a pond stocked with koi. Rain came down softly and hung like glass beads on leaves and branches. The air smelled of wet earth. Selena parked on the dirt road that ran parallel to the shoreline. Using the more direct route on her return to Ann’s would shave off half a mile.

  Attached to the north side of the garage was a guesthouse, likely the place Jeff rented, barely visible through a copse of golden aspens. She hoped the bulldog reporter wasn’t home. She didn’t need another round with him today.

  One of the garage doors was open. A red pickup truck faced outward, its left bumper and headlight smashed in, the kind of damage she had seen on vehicles that collided with large animals. Derek may have recently hit a buck or bull elk.

  The walkway to the front door led through a rock garden with white gravel raked into intricate spirals. Holding a box of cookies in one hand, she pushed the hood of her parka back from her face, tucked her cell phone and keys into her pocket, and rang the doorbell.

  Derek appeared within seconds, looking fit and handsome in faded jeans, a long-sleeved rugby shirt, and well-worn boat shoes. “You made it. Come in.”

  The Asian influence of the garden flowed into the interior of the house. She stepped into a spacious room with vaulted ceilings and a panoramic view of the lake. The sparse furnishings were simple and elegant, with plush carpets, polished hardwood floors, and Asian relics displayed on shelves on each side of the fireplace. No clutter. Not a speck of dust. Yet the room felt inviting and warm. “These are for you. Pecan chocolate chip cookies with quinoa and kale. Just baked.”

  He lifted the box to his nose, inhaled, and his good eye brightened. “Smells delicious.” His gaze flickered over her. “You’re wet.”

  “No biggie,” she said, though she felt the chill dampness through to her skin.

  “Let me take your jacket.” Derek slipped her parka off her shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair. Rain dripped to the floor, but he didn’t appear to be bothered in the least. She was happy to see his furnishings weren’t just beautiful objects to admire. “Your garden is gorgeous. You must have an army of gardeners.”

  “That would actually be me. I do everything myself. I love working outside.”

  “Did you study Asian landscaping?”

  He laughed. “Nothing that prescribed. I just do what feels right, though I did live in China and Japan while growing up. Guess Asian sensibility stayed with me.”

  “Was your dad in the military?”

  “Government work. He was a diplomat.”

  “Ah, Foreign Service.” No wonder Derek was so well mannered, so polished. “Pretty high up there in the food chain.”

  “Wielding power over others.”

  “Something tells me you’re not complimenting politicians.”

  “You guessed right. I grew up around them. When you live in a bubble of wealth and privilege, and everyone kowtows to you, it’s hard not to have an inflated sense of your own importance. Self-interests tend to overshadow public service.”

  “There are some good ones.”

  “Agreed. And they get plenty of my campaign dollars.”

  The more she learned about Derek, the more mysterious he seemed. Something about him made her uneasy, even a little afraid. His life experience was vast. In contrast, hers seemed meager and insufficient. Since she was sixteen, Randy had been her one true love, a country hick who showed little interest in the world beyond ranching and rodeo. She had never slept with another man, and her inexperience gave her no tools to deal with a man as sophisticated as Derek. Why he was attracted to her, she didn’t understand.

  They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  “How’s Ann doing, by the way?” he asked.

  “Better. Her son Matt is there, and my sister stationed an officer at her house, just to calm everyone’s nerves. Ann was moody this morning, but we talked her into playing cards. After she won a few games of hearts, her mood lightened, and she even helped me bake cookies.”

  “Acting out normal behavior can be healing.”

  “Yep. Good therapy.”

  “Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Iced tea?”

  “No, thanks. I can’t stay long.” Setting a time limit felt like a necessary precaution. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Of course.” He stared directly into her eyes, and she could tell he found it unsettling that she was uncomfortable. “Well, you came to see the aquariums. Let’s go out back to my lab.”

  As he guided her down a hallway, she glanced into the beautiful kitchen and dining room, and several bedrooms, everything straight out of Architectural Digest. At the end of the hallway, they came to a substantial stainless-steel door. He punched numbers into the code box, opened the door, and they stepped into a large, windowless room brightly lit by florescent lights. The door clanged shut behind them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  THE RAIN HAD TAPERED to a drizzle by the time Sidney and David got back to Garnerville. Sidney had sat quietly the whole trip, head pressed against the backrest, eyes closed, the soft patter of rain calming her nerves. She felt the car slow and turn into a gravel driveway, and ease to a stop.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” David said softly. “Home sweet home.”

  David had parked in her driveway next to his Lexus SUV where he’d parked it that morning. They left the Yukon and she felt light rain on her face. “I have to change into my uniform and get to the office,” she said hurriedly, her mind suddenly buzzing with thoughts of work. “My gut tells me we’re on the verge of a breakthrough in this case.”

  “Hey, slow down. Don’t go charging off.” David put his foot up on the bumper, unstrapped his ankle holster, and handed it to her. “Wear this. I’ll feel better knowing you have a backup. Do that for me?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  David’s face glistened with rain. His beautiful brown eyes held her gaze and his mouth tipped into a sensuous smile. “Time to redeem my kiss.”

  He pulled her into his arms, their bodies melding together, and he kissed her slowly and deliberately. Blissful. She was a little lightheaded when he released her.

  “Call me when you have some free time,” he murmured. “I want to finish that kiss.” He pecked the tip of her nose, squeezed her hands, and headed to his car.

  Sidney wanted to call him back, invite him into the house to finish what they’d started. Instead, she ran up the porch stairs and entered the laundry room through the back door. The four cats rushed to meet her before the door shut, mewing loudly, rubbing against her legs. Sidney entered the kitchen with the cats clinging to her like Velcro. Odd behavior. Were they missing Selena? Upset about being left alone so much?

  No, something else was troubling them. Something felt wrong, yet the house looked as it normally did, neat and clean, nothing out of place. Remembering the laundry room window, unlocked yesterday, she rechecked it. Still locked. She started second guessing herself. Was she getting paranoid? Imagining things?

  Mewing, still clingy, the cats bounded after her as she went up to her room. She changed into her uniform, added her duty belt and badge, and checked her Beretta 9mm semiautomatic, making sure the magazine contained a full load before holstering the weapon. She lifted her pant leg and strapped on David’s ankle holster holding the .380 Beretta Pico.

  Before she left the house, she made a detour down the hall to Selena’s room, her senses on high alert, listening intently for any unusual sound. The room looked tidy, bed smooth. Still, her anxiety increased, though she couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the sensation.

  Her pho
ne pinged, a new text, reminding her that she had not checked in with the station since morning. She called in to get her messages and slowly walked around Selena’s room, half-listening as the recordings played on speaker.

  Nearing the bookcase, on the wall opposite the bed, she got signal interference. As she walked away, the messages came in clearly again.

  A stab of something deep in her belly made her stop, mute her phone, and return to the bookcase. Hoping her suspicion was wrong, Sidney waved her phone up and down in front of the shelves. A strange buzz emanated from an AC adaptor in the electrical outlet.

  Sidney’s adrenalin spiked; her skin tingled all over. Years of watching forensic teams work a room told her exactly what it was. The small circle on the phony adapter was a tiny camera lens. A couple of days ago, when she’d sensed someone in the house, she’d been right.

  The lens had a view of the entire room. Some pervert was spying on Selena, maybe watching Sidney at that moment. She turned away and adjusted the blinds as if she hadn’t seen the camera. She’d have to get a forensics tech to check it out, but first she needed to find her sister.

  Sidney left the room and called Selena’s cell in the hallway. She counted seven rings before voicemail picked up, each second seeming like ten.

  “You’ve reached Selena McBride. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call promptly.”