Chapter 7
CLAIRE WASHBURN STRETCHED her legs out on the red checkered blanket Edmund had spread on the grass in the shadow of the Murphy Windmill in Golden Gate Park.
It was part of her wonderful husband’s plan to continue celebrating her award over the entire weekend.
He’d set out a beautiful lunch, complete with a wicker picnic basket.
It was perfect. At least that’s what she’d say if Edmund asked her.
In reality, the wind off the Pacific had been picking up and testing the aerodynamics of their paper plates.
They were the only ones near the beach at this end of the park.
With good reason. Fog had started to creep in from the ocean.
Claire was bundled in a colorful sweatshirt yet still chilly from the breeze cutting through the park.
But Edmund had worked so hard, she didn’t want to disappoint him. He was like a puppy. If you gave him a little bit of love, he was happy for the whole day.
They lounged on the blanket and enjoyed their lunch. Then Claire noticed a small group of people starting to gather near a clump of trees in the corner of the park.
Claire said, “What do you think that’s all about?”
Edmund was already evaluating the crowd. He got to his feet and offered his hand to Claire. They casually strolled over to the group.
As they got closer, Claire noticed they were all looking at a figure on the ground, a body lying motionless in the grass. The body of a young woman. Claire could just make out her face in a tangle of red hair.
It looked like Claire’s day had just taken a U-turn.