Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

it?”
    Haviland sniffed and gave Millay a lick on the hand.
    After the rest of the Bayside Book Writers disappeared into the tent, Olivia pointed at the poem. “I don’t get it. Is this meant to reflect Talley’s suffering or the sender’s?”
    Rawlings didn’t look at the paper. He was already too busy studying the spectators. Olivia copied his lead.
    “Let’s move around to the left a little,” he said. “I want to be able to see who has eyes only for Talley. And I want a clear view of people’s hands.”
    Once they’d repositioned themselves, Olivia did as Rawlings suggested, but it was difficult to focus on so many people at once. All of the audience members looked enthralled, and because the dancers were constantly changing positions onstage, she couldn’t tell whether someone in the crowd was fixated on a particular woman. It was just as challenging to keep an eye on hundreds of hands. For the most part, people were gripping water bottles, drink cups, food items, or the handles of shopping bags. If they weren’t, they were clapping or snapping their fingers in time to the drumbeat.
    Facial expressions were of no help either. People smiled, made comments to friends or family members, scolded children, and shouted encouragement to the dancers. Olivia openly observed them, feeling particularly exposed because she and Rawlings had their backs against the stage.
    “We’re not being very subtle,” she said.
    The chief nodded. “I know. I want this person to realize that we’re taking the offensive. I want them to see that we’re prepared to defend Talley—that we’ve got our fists raised and we’re ready for a fight should it come down to that.”
    A fight. That was exactly what Olivia wanted. She longed for a confrontation, for a chance to act, to grab hold of their foe and demand an explanation. She spent several seconds indulging in a fantasy in which she and Haviland brought down a hulking creep whose pockets were stuffed with time metaphors, but then the sight of a familiar face startled her from her reverie. There, on the fringe of the crowd, stood Harlan Scott.
    Olivia hadn’t seen Harlan since her fateful visit with Munin. They’d barely spoken on the trip home and Olivia had been too emotionally spent to do more than mumble a hasty “thank-you” and “good-bye” to her hired guide upon disembarking from his boat.
    Harlan was a retired park ranger, and there was nothing unusual about his attending a well-publicized event in the Croatan Forest. However, something about the tightness of his jaw and the way his arms were folded over his chest bothered Olivia. He wasn’t smiling or showing any outward sign of enjoying the performance, and his gaze was too intense for her liking.
    Turning to follow his stare, she saw that Talley had taken center stage. The young Lumbee woman was mesmerizing the audience with her beauty and the graceful movements of her body.
    Everyone watched her with a mixture of awe and admiration.
    Except for Harlan Scott.
    There was a darkness in his eyes, a shadow of anger that transformed his entire being. Olivia no longer saw the quiet, gentle man who’d tended Munin’s traps, brought her supplies, and took care of her pottery sales. She didn’t see the courteous but reserved guide who’d agreed to transport her across the harbor and up the creek leading to Munin’s shack, or the cautious nature lover who’d warned her to watch out for snakes. Forgotten were all of these attributes. The man Olivia was looking at was a complete stranger.
    Even children knew that strangers weren’t to be trusted.
    And sometimes, they were to be feared.

Chapter 15
    Medicine sometimes snatches away health, sometimes gives it.
    —O VID
    O livia touched Rawlings on the arm.
    “Harlan Scott is here. Eleven o’clock, near the back. He’s in jeans and a Cheerwine T-shirt. Look at his expression.”
    Rawlings quickly located the retired park ranger. “Let’s move,” he said after a brief glance.
    The chief surged forward and Olivia and Haviland followed on his heels. The trio reached Harlan just as the drumbeats ceased and the dancers lined up to take their bows.
    “Harlan!” Olivia called out before Rawlings could speak. Because Harlan knew her, she believed he was unlikely to dash off upon seeing her. “What a surprise! I thought you were going fishing this weekend.”
    “I slept too late to get a good start,” Harlan said, offering his hand to Olivia. “Nice to