The Obsession(123)

“Sure. You wreck it, you pay for repairs. You end up needing the ER, dinner’s going to get cold. I can go with that.”

“I don’t have a motorcycle license.”

“You’re FBI.”

“Damn f*cking straight.” Delighted, Mason swung a leg over, settled. “Now what the hell do I do?”

Before long, drawn by the revving engine and Mason’s war whoops, Naomi came out the front door.

“Is that— Is Mason on your bike?”

“Yeah.” Xander sat on the steps with the dog.

“When did he learn to drive a motorcycle?”

“Pretty much now.”

“Oh, dear God. Get him off before he hurts himself.”

“He’s fine, Mom.”

She huffed. “Well, get him off because dinner’s ready.”

“Done.”

He got up as she went back in, and decided it was best all around that Mason waited until her back was turned to pop a wheelie.

Her brother was a quick study.





Twenty-five




Her house was full of people and noisy tools and machines. Now her front yard was full of people and noisy tools and machines.

She couldn’t defy her brother, Xander, and her own common sense and take off to the forest or down to the shoreline for quiet. For a couple of hours she made the best of it by taking pictures of what was essentially demo—just like the interior—while Lelo uprooted old woody shrubs and ugly tree stumps she’d simply stopped seeing with a massive chain attached to a massive tractor.

The sounds of a wood chipper, of chain saws, of trucks, joined the sounds of nail guns and saws.

Tag loved every minute.

Eventually she escaped inside, popped in her earbuds, and drowned out most of it with music.

The tap on her shoulder had her nearly jumping out of her chair.

“Sorry,” Mason apologized.

“God! I didn’t know you were back.”

“You couldn’t hear a plane land on your deck with this noise—and with Lady Gaga blasting in your ears.”

“Lady Gaga, and others, help me tolerate the rest.” But she took out the earbuds and paused her playlist. “Did they—the autopsy?”

“Yeah. There’s not much more I can tell you. She hadn’t had any food, any water, since about eight, nine o’clock Friday night. That’s consistent with Marla. The same type of blade was used on both. No prints, no DNA, no hairs but her own, that’s also consistent. He’s careful. Anyway, I’m going to work outside on the deck for a while, take advantage of the sun. I’m heading to Seattle tomorrow, and surprise, they’re calling for rain.”

“I don’t know how you can work outside with this noise.”

“My great powers of concentration. These are nice.” He nodded toward the photos on her screen. “These were taken in the forest just west of here?”

“Yes. I was just checking downloads and orders. And I think I’m going to do more notecards—nature shots. They tend to sell.”

Wanting his company just a bit longer, she began to scroll. “This one, then no, no, yes. This one. Then . . . maybe this.”

“Hold that. That’s a—what do you call it?”

“Nurse log.”

“Right, right, because it nurses other stuff. Moss and mushrooms and lichen.”

“And the younger trees. I love how they grow out of it, the way—in this one—their roots wrap around the mother.”

“Pretty cool.” With a hand light on her shoulder, Mason leaned in a little more to study. “When did you take that?”

“Oh, this one’s been up for a couple weeks. Got some nice hits, decent downloads. I figured I’d crop it a little more, and it would make a nice notecard, for a variety set of eight.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I like it. Anyway, I’m going to get to work, let you get back to your own.”

She’d barely started up before someone tapped her shoulder again. At least this time she didn’t jump.

“Sorry.” Kevin gave her shoulder another pat. “I wanted to ask if you’re ready for us to move you into your studio space.”

“It’s really ready for that?”

“It’s really ready, and we can start working in here again first thing tomorrow.”

“Then I’m ready. Let me shut down, unplug and all that.”

“We can start hauling out the supplies, the mat board deal, and the rest.”

“I need those worktables I bought. Downstairs storage.”

“Already brought them up, and everything you had marked for the studio.”

“I need to let Jenny know I’m ready for the desk whenever she can get to it.”

“Oh, she knows. I keep her up-to-date.”

“I’d better get moving.”

“Jeez, almost forgot.” As if jogging his own memory, Kevin tapped the side of his head. “Lelo and his dad need you outside. We’ll get things moving for you.”

“All right.” She shut down, unplugged.

Taking the back stairs, she hurried through the house, out the front.

There were questions about colors, heights, naturalizing, grass seeds. She had to switch gears from studio space to curb appeal. While she answered, debated, questioned, she reminded herself how glorious it would feel to head into summer the following year with it all done, with the quiet surrounding her like a gift from God.