Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

toes into the sand, suddenly needing to feel the gritty grains pressing against her skin, to anchor her body to the soft ground.
    Her mind drifted back in time. She recalled Munin’s wrinkled face in the dim light. Had she seemed unwell? No. Weary perhaps, but not ill.
    “What are you thinking?” Rawlings asked gently.
    “I was wondering if she died of natural causes.”
    Rawlings cast his gaze out over the ocean. A pair of gulls swooped low over the waves and then lifted skyward again, crying in disappointment after discovering that the shadow on the water was a piece of seaweed and not an injured fish. “The medical examiner said she’d been bitten by an eastern diamondback rattlesnake, but the cause of death was drowning.”
    Olivia’s throat constricted. “Where?”
    “The stream behind her house. The park ranger who found her thinks she stumbled down the bank and fell in. That she couldn’t think straight because of the pain.”
    Shaking her head in protest, Olivia said, “Munin wore noisy anklets to spook the snakes. And my guide, Harlan, told me she kept stores of antivenom, which she made using her goat’s antibodies. This . . . It doesn’t sound right.”
    The memory of the gratitude in Munin’s eyes as the starfish necklace settled against her weathered palm washed over Olivia. It didn’t seem possible that the old woman was gone, and Olivia was distressed by how she’d met her end. This wasn’t the death Munin was meant to have. Olivia was certain of that.
    “The case isn’t in my jurisdiction,” Rawlings said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and handing it to her. “And the Craven County Sheriff’s Department plans to rule it an accidental death. As soon as the deputy in charge has spoken to you, that is. He’s already tracked down Harlan Scott and you’re the only loose end. When I heard that you’d be called in for an interview, I asked to take a look at the case file.” He gestured at the paper in Olivia’s hands. “You’ll see why I’m concerned.”
    Olivia unfolded the sheaf and gasped. It was a color copy of a dirt-encrusted hand. The fingers were milky white and bloated to the size of sausages. A thin, muddy chain was looped around the middle finger and the pendant at its end had come to rest on a stainless steel table. The mud had been wiped off the starfish so that its golden surface gleamed beneath the bright, searing light.
    Olivia stared at the image. Why was the necklace in Munin’s hand? Had she been carrying it around in her pocket? Had she clung to it as the rattler’s venom wreaked havoc on her body? Or was it possible that she was trying to send a message using Olivia’s gift?
    Rawlings took Olivia’s trembling hand in his. Gently, he reclaimed the paper and put it back in his pocket. He stroked the skin of her palm with his thumb, his eyes filled with tenderness.
    “She said that death was coming. That many paths were about to cross in the forest. Her forest,” Olivia said quietly. “I thought she was referring to next weekend’s events—the powwow and the food fest—things she could have read about in the paper . . .” She trailed off, not quite knowing what she wanted to say.
    “But you think she felt threatened?” Rawlings asked.
    Olivia shook her head. “No, not threatened. She acted . . . resigned. Prepared. She summoned me, Sawyer. It was important to her that I come right away, even though we were complete strangers. She needed to see me, to give me advice and her last memory jug. She told me that jug had all the answers I’d need to keep death at bay.”
    “This gets more bizarre by the minute.” Rawlings frowned. “I don’t like it. With two highly publicized events coming up, the sheriff is going to want to wrap up this case as quickly as possible. He won’t want any media attention.”
    “So if I tell him about my visit and explain that I’d given Munin the necklace, then she’ll just disappear?” Olivia asked, though she already knew the answer. “There’s no logical reason why I should have a problem with that, but I do.” She searched the chief’s face and saw her concern mirrored there. “I can’t let her fade away like that, Sawyer. Like she never existed.”
    Rawlings swept his gaze over the water and then pivoted to look at the lighthouse. As if summoned, Haviland appeared from around the corner of the tower, paused to investigate an interesting scent in a clump of sea oats, and then