“They broke up?”
“No,” Mason said slowly, drawing out the syllable as if she were racking her brain at the same time, trying to recall the particulars. “I think he just…disappeared or something. Like, here one day and gone the next. Or at least that’s what I overheard at a family party once. I forget who was telling the story. Maybe your mom, Carla?”
“Makes sense,” Carla remarked after sipping her latte. “My mom loves to gossip about everyone.”
Like mother, like daughter, I thought, suppressing a grin. I wasn’t sure how much use any of this information was going to be to me, but gaining some extra knowledge never hurt. At the very least, I now knew that Marie’s hostility wasn’t necessarily directed at me, but more just a part of her personality.
As the three of us finished up and made our goodbyes, however, I couldn’t help wondering about that long-ago fiancé of hers. What really had happened to him?
I knew better than to ask Connor, though. He was so embroiled in his painting that he probably wouldn’t much appreciate me dredging up ancient family history. Which was fine. Our future together was far more important than whatever had happened to Marie before I was even born.
* * *
A few days later we were sitting in the living room, watching the morning news as we ate toast and eggs and sipped coffee. One good thing about Connor’s painting mania — he didn’t tend to get started until after nine in the morning at the earliest, so at least we could have a leisurely start to our day. We didn’t always turn on the news, but he was thinking about doing some plein air painting soon and wanted to catch the weather report. Apparently the Wilcoxes didn’t have anyone with true weather sensitivity, something the McAllisters definitely had up on them. On the other hand, we didn’t have a healer, nor a true seer, so the balance sheet still wasn’t all that even.
All of the Arizona news came out of Phoenix, which had always made the weather reports pretty much useless to me back home in Jerome. Flagstaff, however, was a big enough city that it did actually get a mention from the Phoenix newscasters, although in general it seemed as if they tended to ignore what was going on in the northern half of the state.
Not today, however. I’d just settled back on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee when the news returned after a commercial break. The female newscaster fixed her version of an appropriately concerned expression on her face and said, “Authorities have reported discovering the body of a female Northern Pines University student early this morning. Details are still sketchy, but the local police have informed us that there doesn’t appear to be any evidence of foul play and that the young woman appears to have been the victim of an animal attack, although such attacks are very rare. The victim’s name is being withheld pending notification of the family, and the police and local wildlife officials are saying this is most likely an isolated occurrence. However, until the animal involved can be identified, they urge residents near the university to be on their guard. In other news — ”
I picked up the remote and hit the “mute” button. “An animal attack? Is that common around here?”
Connor frowned. “Did you miss the part where they said these kinds of attacks are rare?”
“No, but — ”
“Probably a bear. It doesn’t happen very often, but this time of year I’ve heard they can be pretty hungry and cranky. We’ll probably never know what happened, since it sounds as if the girl was alone when she was attacked, but it’s not the sort of thing you need to worry about.” He paused, watching me closely, and his expression softened. “It’s awful, I know, but I’ve seen a few bears while I was out hiking, and they really don’t tend to be that aggressive.”
“Okay,” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I meant it. Something was pricking at the back of my mind, telling me this didn’t feel right at all. In general my instincts were pretty good, although I didn’t know if that was some kind of witchy sixth sense or what Sydney liked to refer to as “her gut.” In the end, it probably didn’t matter all that much.
“Can you turn the sound back on? The weather report is about to start.”
“Sure.” I picked up the remote and unmuted the TV, then listened with half an ear as the weatherman talked about building high pressure and an extended dry spell, with wind warnings in effect for the next twenty-four hours. Not that unusual; we often got strong winds in northern Arizona at the shift of the seasons. The equinox was only two weeks away.
If it really had been a bear attack, I wasn’t all that thrilled about Connor going out and painting in the middle of nowhere armed with only an easel and a brush. As it turned out, though, his destination was Oak Creek Canyon, not anywhere near Flagstaff. That made me a little more relaxed about the situation, especially after he said he wanted me to come along so we could hike around West Fork, get lunch at the Indian Gardens trading post. It sounded like a fun outing.