Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [41]
“I know you’ve never been comfortable, well, knowing things.”
“And I know people like to think that, because I’m a little sensitive, I can always see the future or predict things. It doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes things just pass you by.”
“That’s because you try to ignore your gift.”
“I don’t know that I’d call it a gift, Kendra. I’ve never been able to decide how I really feel about it.”
“Must make your counseling sessions interesting, though.”
“It might, if I let it. I am very, very careful not to ‘hear’ my patients unless they are speaking out loud.” Selena waved and completed her turn, then honked her horn as she drove off down the road.
“Come on, Lola,” Kendra called, not wanting the dog too far out of sight. “Let’s go inside and get a cool drink, would you like that?”
Lola, who’d been investigating some scent at the edge of the woods, loped across the lawn at the sound of her name. Though a bit slower than normal, one would be hard pressed to tell that she’d been so ill just forty-eight hours earlier.
Kendra filled Lola’s water bowl and set it on the kitchen floor, and the dog drank eagerly.
“Lola, you’re a mess,” Kendra said as water dripped onto the floor. She reached for the paper towels to mop up. “Now, we’re going to have a nice, quiet weekend. After the week I’ve had, after dealing with everything from a serial killer to a sandwich poisoner, I want no more excitement in my life than what I get from paying my bills and reading the book I picked up at the drugstore last night.”
And for the most part, the weekend was uneventful, the only moment of note coming on Sunday morning when Kendra opened the barn door. Having missed her daily canoe trips into the Pines, she’d decided the time had come to resume her forays. She’d take the larger of the two canoes so that Lola could accompany her. But after she’d swung back the unlocked door, and before she could step inside, Lola began to growl, a long, low, threatening sound from deep inside.
The hair on the back of Kendra’s neck stood straight up, and she took several steps back.
“What is it, girl?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Even as Kendra stepped back, Lola advanced slowly, sniffing the air and growling as she entered the barn and paused as if listening. Kendra stood in the doorway and took stock.
The two canoes stood up against the right wall, and toward the back of the barn was an old lawn mower and a new bicycle. Several rakes and a shovel or two stood near the door, and a row of paint cans stood in a neat line awaiting proper disposal. Light from the open door spilled onto the floor, and it was plain that there was nothing there that shouldn’t have been.
“Do you smell a fox, maybe, or a raccoon?” Kendra patted the dog on the head. “There’s nothing here, Lola.”
Confident that the dog must have caught the scent from an animal that somehow had found its way in—and out—overnight, Kendra dragged the canoe out through the double doors and down to the stream. She’d had to clap her hands to get Lola’s attention, though, and was tempted to leave the dog at the house when Lola, still visibly agitated, finally arrived at the stream.
“Oh, that old fox or whatever it was is long gone now,” Kendra said as she pushed the canoe from the side of the stream. “You just sit back there and relax, and we’ll see what’s going on upstream today.”
Kendra paddled as far as the first big lake, noting that the number of early-morning canoers seemed to increase with every mile. That the Pines had become such a popular place was a good thing, she reminded herself. The more people who enjoyed the protected areas, the more likely it was that those areas would remain protected. But still, for one accustomed to having endless stretches of waterways to herself, she regretted having to share this Sunday morning with strangers, friendly though they might be. After the violence that had engulfed her over the past week, she needed the healing serenity that she always found in the rhythmic paddling on her solitary ventures into the heart of the Pines.
Lola,