Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

trotted toward them. Olivia held out her hand and he pressed his nose into her palm and then gave Rawlings a brief nuzzle before heading back up the path to the cottage.
    “We need to examine that jug,” Rawlings said. “And find out the rest of Munin’s story. There’s a reason she removed herself from the world. Very few people live like that by choice. She was connected to someone once. A mother? A father? Siblings? Someone.”
    Olivia nodded. “I think she’s been in hiding for so long that being alone became her way of life. After enough years had passed, her past, whatever it was, must have seemed like a dream.” She reached for her necklace, her fingertips meeting only naked skin. “But after all this time, something from the past must have found her. I believe she knew it was coming, that there was no place left to run.”
    They stood in silence listening to the waves whisper onto the shore. And when the first star began shining through the canvas of deep blue, they didn’t bother wishing upon it. Instead, they walked toward the cottage, turning their backs on the beauty of the night.

Chapter 5
    Because we focused on the snake, we missed the scorpion.
    —E GYPTIAN P ROVERB
    “W e have to call it an evening,” Olivia told the rest of the Bayside Book Writers apologetically. Chief Rawlings remained outside, kicking chucks of gravel as he made another phone call.
    Laurel was the first to recognize that something grave had occurred. She tucked Harris’s chapter back into a folder and clutched it against her chest. Olivia’s eye was drawn to the red and pink bubbly hearts on its cover. She imagined a working human heart, sinewy and slick, its powerful muscle contracting. She saw the same heart falling still, the blood pooling in the four chambers. How had this mighty muscle reacted to the venom of an eastern diamondback rattlesnake? Had it beat double-time? Or had it burned in those last moments of life as the poison coursed through its valves?
    “Are you okay?” Laurel’s voice brought Olivia back from her gruesome reverie.
    “A woman I met for the first time last week has passed away,” she said. “I’m reeling a bit over the news because . . .” She trailed off, unsure of how much to tell the other writers.
    Millay, sharp as ever, drew her own conclusions. “Because something’s off about her death? Is that why the chief’s in uniform?”
    Harris glanced at her in surprise. “He probably just wanted to tell Olivia in private.”
    Millay shook her head. “I doubt it. Olivia said she just met this woman. There’s more to it than that.” She looked at Olivia closely, her expression softening. “Can we help?”
    Normally, Olivia would have refused the offer, determined to solve any and all problems without assistance, but the memory jug was a complete enigma and she decided that a few extra sets of eyes could be useful. Not only that, but by talking to her friends about Munin, she kept the old woman in the here and now. Kept her from disappearing.
    “I hope so.” Olivia explained who Munin was and how she’d been found dead, half submerged in the stream behind her home.
    “How awful!” Laurel put her hand over her mouth and shuddered. “To die from a snakebite all alone like that. Isn’t it horribly painful?”
    Harris nodded. “Yeah. It’s not a good way to go. No wonder you’re upset, Olivia.”
    “Millay was right. There’s more to it than that,” Olivia said. “Munin was known as a fortune teller of sorts. During my visit, she spoke of death coming to the forest. The Croatan National Forest.” She spread her hands. “Normally, I wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to that kind of mumbo jumbo, but now I’m wondering if she knew she was in danger.”
    “Munin, huh?” Millay pulled her boots back on and began to slowly lace them up. “I’ve heard all kinds of stories about her, mostly after midnight during a weekend shift at Fish Nets. That’s when the real drunks are just getting their second wind. They start one-upping each other with tall tales at about one thirty in the morning, and her name’s been dropped more than once. People said she was a witch.”
    “A witch?” Laurel’s eyes opened wide.
    Millay shrugged. “The fishermen say she could predict the season’s weather better than Doppler radar. Warned one of them about Ophelia turning into a hurricane and bearing down on Oyster Bay before she was still a tropical storm in the Caribbean.”