Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Luna
Three cats tumble around my ankles in a dangerous dance that threatens to send me sprawling as I descend the stairs.
I manage to reach the bottom without incident, but pause when Shadow is absent from his usual morning greeting spot.
Instead, he’s sitting rigid by the front window, nose pressed to the glass, his gray fur standing on end.
“Shadow? What is it, baby?”
His ears twitch at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t look back. Doesn’t move. Just stares through the window at something I can’t see.
“Come on, breakfast time.” I head toward the kitchen. Usually, the word “breakfast” has him bounding after me, but not today.
I fill the coffeemaker with fresh grounds and water. The cats wind between my legs as I reach for their food bowls.
“Patience, ladies.” I set down three dishes, measuring out their breakfast. I watch them eat for a moment, then glance toward the living room. Shadow still hasn’t moved.
“Shadow!” I call again, more firmly this time, setting down a bowl of raw meat. “Come get your food!”
Nothing. Not even a flick of his tail.
Coffee drips into the pot, its rich aroma filling the kitchen, but Shadow’s behavior is triggering all my alarms. He’s not alert; he’s frozen. Fixated.
All night, images of watchers in the woods plagued my dreams. So much so that I bolted awake, heart pounding, sweat beading on my forehead, thirteen minutes before the alarm.
A quick shower washed away the dream-sweat but not the memory of that masked figure inside the trees.
I pulled on a pair of worn jeans and one of Grandpa’s old flannel shirts that still hangs in my closet five years after his death.
The fabric is soft from countless washes, and sometimes I imagine I can still detect his scent.
Pine, tobacco, and something uniquely him that made me feel safe.
Nothing makes me feel safe that way anymore.
I pour myself a mug and take a sip, trying to convince myself there’s a simple explanation for Shadow’s odd behavior.
Maybe a deer wandered into the yard. Or maybe a bear.
I hope it’s not a bear. I’m not in the mood to chase one away before I even eat breakfast. Yet Shadow’s stance speaks of something more ominous. What could be more ominous than a bear?
“What are you looking at, huh?” I cross the room toward the window and place a hand on his back. His muscles are tight beneath my fingers.
I lean forward, peering through the glass, as I squint in the early morning light.
There’s something on my porch.
My stomach drops like a stone. The coffee mug slips from my fingers before I even register letting go. It shatters against the hardwood, hot liquid splashing across my bare feet. The heat should sting, but all I feel is cold spreading through my chest.
No. No. That can’t be what I think it is.
My hands shake as I fumble with the deadbolt, my fingers clumsy and uncooperative. Shadow whines behind me, pressing against my legs. The lock gives way with a sharp click, the sound jarring in the morning quiet.
The door swings open. I step onto the porch, and my worst fears crystallize into horrifying reality.
A body.
Wrapped in clear plastic like some grotesque package, lying motionless on my welcome mat.
The plastic clings to still features, and through the transparent barrier, I can make out the pale, gray complexion of death.
A bright purple Rocky Mountain Columbine bloom sits centered on the torso like a sick calling card.
My knees buckle. The world tilts sideways, and I grab the doorframe to steady myself.
“Oh God! Oh, my God!”
I’ve seen death before. Countless times. Wounded animals that didn’t make it, creatures that arrived too late to save, Grandpa. But this is different. This is deliberate. This is wrong in ways that make my soul recoil.
Shadow tries to push past my legs, his nose twitching at the scents carried on the morning breeze. I snap back to my senses, my protective instincts kicking in despite the shock freezing my blood.
“No, Shadow. Stay back.” I push him back inside, my voice stronger than I feel. Whatever happened here, whatever this means, I won’t let my animals near it.
I step closer, my legs unsteady but moving anyway.
I need to be sure. I need to confirm what my mind is already screaming at me.
The plastic wrap crinkles in the breeze, and bile rises in my throat.
The face is obscured, turned away, but there’s no mistaking the stillness, the absence of breath, and the waxy pallor of skin that will never warm again.
A shudder runs through me from head to toe. I stumble backward through the doorway, slamming the door shut and turning the deadbolt with shaking fingers. My back hits the wall beside the stairs, and I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor, Shadow pressed against my side.
My hands tremble as I fumble for my phone in my pocket. The screen blurs through the tears I didn’t realize were forming.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi. This is Luna Foster at Sage & Summit Wildlife Sanctuary.” My voice cracks, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to speak. “I just found a dead body on my front porch.”
The words sound absurd, impossible, as they leave my mouth, like something from a nightmare I should wake up from. But with that sickly, sweet smell still in my nostrils and the way Shadow whines and presses closer, it’s all horrifyingly real.
“Your address, ma’am?”
“1472 Mountain Pass Road.”
“Sheriff is on her way. Stay inside and don’t touch anything. Are you alone?”
I glance down at Shadow, then at the cats who’ve wandered over, drawn by the commotion.
Sage rubs against my leg, sensing my distress, while Willow settles in my lap with a soft purr.
Juniper, ever the independent one, hops onto the windowsill and begins taking a bath as if dead bodies on porches are perfectly normal Saturday morning occurrences.
“Just me and my animals.”
“Do you want to stay on the line until the sheriff arrives?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
But it’s a lie. Nothing about this is fine. Nothing will ever be fine again.
I end the call and let my head fall back against the wall. My whole body trembles now, not just my hands. Shock. I’m going into shock. I’ve seen it in injured animals enough times to recognize the signs in myself.
Shadow tucks his face into my armpit, his warm breath against my ribs anchoring me to the present. Sage and Willow’s purrs are a steady vibration against my legs. Even Juniper pauses in her bath to look at me with those knowing green eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whisper the words like a mantra as I rock back and forth. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
The sheriff’s cruisers have been parked in my driveway for over an hour now.
Yellow crime scene tape flutters in the breeze around the porch, transforming my sanctuary into something tainted and foreign.
I stand at the front window, trying to ignore the body still there, as officers move around the property, taking photos, collecting evidence, and turning my peaceful morning into a goddamn nightmare.
No. The dead body on my front porch did that.
I grip the mug of fresh coffee, though it’s long grown cold. I can’t remember the last time I took a sip, but at least my hands are steady again. The taste of bile rises in my throat, and I close my eyes. I can’t look at that plastic-wrapped form any longer, lying there like some sick present.
Shadow hasn’t left my side since I discovered the body, even though all the men around are making him agitated.
He doesn’t so much mind people as men. Men killed his mother in front of him.
But he keeps close to me, protective, pressing against my leg.
Even now, as I stand frozen at the window, he leans against me, as if he can sense the tremors I’m fighting to control.
I open my eyes at the sound of a commotion outside.
“Luna?” Maren’s voice breaks through my trance as she bursts through the front door. “I came as soon as I got your text. Jesus Fucking Christ, Luna. That’s a freaking body I stepped around out there.”
I whirl toward her. Relief crashes over me, and I sway on my feet at the sight of my best friend’s familiar face, even pale with shock as it is.
Maren’s wild brown curls are more disheveled than usual when left out of her signature ponytail, like she ran her hands through them during the drive, and she’s wearing mismatched socks visible above her untied boots.
She came running. She always comes running when I need her.
I nod, unable to form words.
She barrels into me, wrapping me in one of her magical Maren hugs, and I sag against her. There is nothing like a Maren Rodriguez hug when the world is falling apart around you.
“Do they know who it is?” She pulls back, dropping her voice to a whisper even though we’re alone inside the house.
“They haven’t said.” I take a shaky breath. “They haven’t unwrapped it yet. They’re waiting for the medical examiner.”
“Luna!” Karen enters the house. “I need to speak with you again.”
“I’m gonna grab a cup of coffee.” Maren squeezes my arm. “I didn’t have a chance to make any. I threw myself out the door so fast, I’m lucky I’ve got pants on.”
Only Maren could make me laugh at a time like this.
“Can you grab the treat bag? Shake it for the cats?” I gesture toward the back door.
“They bolted when everyone showed up. All these people and noise have all the animals freaking out. But I’d like to get the cats back inside before they run off too far.
Or Sage ends up stuck in a tree like last month. ”
“On it.”
She walks toward the kitchen before she pauses, glancing back at Karen with a look I recognize—protective and territorial. Maren’s never been one to trust authority figures.