Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

the dark, always one step behind. “What does it say?”
    Time is
    Too Slow for those who Wait,
    Too Swift for those who Fear,
    Too Long for those who Grieve.
    They both fell silent, pondering the words of what sounded like another stanza of poetry.
    “More time metaphors,” Rawlings said after a long moment. “Natalie, Willis, Talley, Munin. Their lives have been defined by Time. It passed quickly for the first three—way too swiftly for the ones who died. And Munin? Time moved slowly for her. She was here, alone, waiting. For what, I don’t know, but I believe the killer identifies him or herself with Time.”
    “Then whatever wrong the killer perceives as having been committed must have originated with Munin,” Olivia said. “I think that’s why she moved out here. To protect her family. To carry the offense with her, leaving her family to flourish in ignorance. If she was Talley’s grandmother, Talley never knew it.”
    Rawlings slid the strip of paper into an evidence bag. “We need to track down someone from Munin’s generation. Someone who was at the Battle of Hayes Pond. Maybe interviewing the older members of the Lumbee wasn’t the direction we needed to take. Maybe we should have been talking to the aging Klansmen.”
    Pivoting, he swung his lantern in an arc around the room and a beam of light fell on an overturned crate in the corner. Standing on the crate was the carving Olivia had given to Munin. Olivia reclaimed the sculpture of the little girl and the lighthouse and held it against her chest. The movement hadn’t escaped Rawlings’ notice and he lowered the lantern and took her in his arms. “When this case is over, I can get your necklace back from evidence too,” he assured her. “You don’t need to lose anything else that matters to you.”
    “No.” Olivia shook her head, her voice hoarse. “I want Munin to have it. She was clinging to it in the end, Sawyer. It meant something to her. Maybe a few seconds of comfort amidst all that pain.” She cast her eyes around the cabin, at the pitiful remnants of a woman’s life.
    Rawlings nodded in understanding. “All right, let’s go. There’s nothing else we can do here.”
    Outside, Harlan was squatting on his heels and rummaging through a pile of pottery shards. Haviland was assisting by digging with his front paws. “Anything?” Harlan asked upon seeing them emerge from the shack.
    “The killer burned all her papers,” Rawlings said. “And left a message behind. We’re done and ready to head out whenever you are.”
    Harlan stood up, a broken jug in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes filled with sorrow, and then let it fall gently to the ground. “Her cooler of antivenom is gone. She kept it on the bottom of the creek and the rope tied to the handle’s been cut. If she died on the bank, then she was just a few feet away from that cooler. Whoever killed her made sure she couldn’t reach it. That’s why the sheriff’s men never saw it, but they should have noticed the posts stuck in the ground.”
    “Show me, please,” Rawlings said and the two men walked behind the shack. They remerged minutes later, silent and angry.
    “What will happen to this place?” Olivia asked Harlan.
    He gestured outward with both arms. “When the lawmen are done poking around, the forest will claim it.” He dusted off his hands and began to make his way toward the path. Then he paused and looked at Olivia. “That would make her happy. She was as much a part of these woods as the trees or the stream or the clay. She belongs to them now.”
    Olivia liked the thought of that. She gave Harlan a grateful smile before he turned away.
    Together, the small party left the remains of Munin Cooper’s existence behind, bequeathing her meager possessions to the wilderness.
    * * *
    Rawlings left Olivia at the dock and hurried off to contact Sheriff Poole. Harlan, who had errands in town, tied up the Whaler and said his good-byes as well.
    Finding herself suddenly alone, Olivia headed for The Boot Top. Though Hudson needed to know that she’d seen their father’s double again, she didn’t want to tell him now. Once again, her head was crowded with disjointed thoughts and she didn’t want to sort out the question of her paternity at the moment. Instead, she headed straight to her office at The Boot Top to look up the quote she’d found in Munin’s mug.
    Typing the words into Google’s search box produced an instant result. The