year from his son, who’d made sure to tell him all about the many features—fully coated, image stabilization. Ron was delighted to have a chance to really use them. He imagined the conversation they’d have about it as he stepped back to the edge, his boot slipping a little and sending a shower of flaky stone and pebbles raining down on the wildflowers growing in the shallow, sandy soil far below.
The binoculars had 10 x 50 magnification, and he twisted the knobs impatiently, zeroing in first on that huge boulder and then moving down, down, and there! That was it! It was still out of focus and all he could see was something large and pale, so he twisted the knob again. Worked beautifully, everything becoming sharp and clear, he’d sure have to tell Jim about that, and then he saw it clearly for the first time.
“Sweet Jesus!” It wasn’t the body of a deer, but it was a carcass.
The naked body of a young woman bobbed against the far side of the boulder. She was on her back, arms floating at her sides, legs almost straight. She could have been out for a swim, except her head seemed strangely bent on her neck and bits of bark and green algae had traced lacy patterns across her waxy skin and were caught in the long strands of dark blond hair streaming behind her.
Ron stared at the gently bobbing breasts and the dark triangle of hair further down, and looked away, ashamed. There was nothing grisly here, no dripping blood or gaping wounds, yet he retched in the dirt, splashing the stone with the force of his revulsion.
He scrambled for the phone while he was still retching, and he knew, even as he tapped 911 with a shaking hand, that he would never, ever come into these woods to hunt again.
October
Chapter Ten
The discovery of Lily Slocum’s body was all anybody could talk about at the university president’s party the Friday night two weeks after the body was found. Even with that gap of time, there’d been talk of canceling it. Ian had been pulled into an emergency faculty meeting when the police officially identified the body pulled from the river. After much squabbling, the decision was made to proceed as normal with all classes and campus activities, but with the understanding that for the remainder of the semester every official university function would observe a minute of silence in Lily Slocum’s memory.
“She wasn’t an especially memorable student,” an aging professor of philosophy confided to Kate as soon as the minute was up.
They were standing on the back lawn of the president’s house, a pillared Greek Revival monstrosity that some of the faculty privately and mockingly referred to as “Tara.”
“A bright enough girl,” the old man said, “but not brilliant, not an original thinker.”
Kate twirled the olive in her martini and glanced over his balding head, contemplating an escape route. What was the man’s point? That Lily Slocum’s death wasn’t a great loss? That only original thinkers deserved to live?
Despite the drought in the summer and an equally dry fall, the president’s manicured lawn was still lush and green. She was surprised some student environmental group wasn’t protesting the overuse of water. Japanese lanterns hung in the trees, and young men and women wearing plain black uniforms circulated among the colorfully dressed crowd bearing trays of drinks and various canapés. It was all very pretty, very tasteful, and she very much wanted to leave.
“Did you have her as a student?” the professor asked, and Kate pulled her attention back to his froglike face.
“No, I didn’t know her. I don’t teach at Wickfield.”
He blinked in surprise, and she excused herself to go in search of Ian. She couldn’t spot him, and it was hard to navigate through the crowd. She jumped when someone laughed loudly near her, blushing when her nervous reaction caught another’s attention. Turning abruptly, she narrowly missed colliding with a rosebush as she tried to
The binoculars had 10 x 50 magnification, and he twisted the knobs impatiently, zeroing in first on that huge boulder and then moving down, down, and there! That was it! It was still out of focus and all he could see was something large and pale, so he twisted the knob again. Worked beautifully, everything becoming sharp and clear, he’d sure have to tell Jim about that, and then he saw it clearly for the first time.
“Sweet Jesus!” It wasn’t the body of a deer, but it was a carcass.
The naked body of a young woman bobbed against the far side of the boulder. She was on her back, arms floating at her sides, legs almost straight. She could have been out for a swim, except her head seemed strangely bent on her neck and bits of bark and green algae had traced lacy patterns across her waxy skin and were caught in the long strands of dark blond hair streaming behind her.
Ron stared at the gently bobbing breasts and the dark triangle of hair further down, and looked away, ashamed. There was nothing grisly here, no dripping blood or gaping wounds, yet he retched in the dirt, splashing the stone with the force of his revulsion.
He scrambled for the phone while he was still retching, and he knew, even as he tapped 911 with a shaking hand, that he would never, ever come into these woods to hunt again.
October
Chapter Ten
The discovery of Lily Slocum’s body was all anybody could talk about at the university president’s party the Friday night two weeks after the body was found. Even with that gap of time, there’d been talk of canceling it. Ian had been pulled into an emergency faculty meeting when the police officially identified the body pulled from the river. After much squabbling, the decision was made to proceed as normal with all classes and campus activities, but with the understanding that for the remainder of the semester every official university function would observe a minute of silence in Lily Slocum’s memory.
“She wasn’t an especially memorable student,” an aging professor of philosophy confided to Kate as soon as the minute was up.
They were standing on the back lawn of the president’s house, a pillared Greek Revival monstrosity that some of the faculty privately and mockingly referred to as “Tara.”
“A bright enough girl,” the old man said, “but not brilliant, not an original thinker.”
Kate twirled the olive in her martini and glanced over his balding head, contemplating an escape route. What was the man’s point? That Lily Slocum’s death wasn’t a great loss? That only original thinkers deserved to live?
Despite the drought in the summer and an equally dry fall, the president’s manicured lawn was still lush and green. She was surprised some student environmental group wasn’t protesting the overuse of water. Japanese lanterns hung in the trees, and young men and women wearing plain black uniforms circulated among the colorfully dressed crowd bearing trays of drinks and various canapés. It was all very pretty, very tasteful, and she very much wanted to leave.
“Did you have her as a student?” the professor asked, and Kate pulled her attention back to his froglike face.
“No, I didn’t know her. I don’t teach at Wickfield.”
He blinked in surprise, and she excused herself to go in search of Ian. She couldn’t spot him, and it was hard to navigate through the crowd. She jumped when someone laughed loudly near her, blushing when her nervous reaction caught another’s attention. Turning abruptly, she narrowly missed colliding with a rosebush as she tried to
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