Watling's Marsh

Chapter 1

Sedlow, Connecticut. Monday, September 11, 1972.

"This your first time to Sedlow?" the cabbie asked Gwynn as he opened the trunk of the yellow car. She'd been lucky to hail him. Most of the taxis had already left by the time she got off the train.

Gwynn relished the Yankee twang to the man's voice. It brought back memories of family reunions when she was a child and also made her realize how much she'd missed the accent in California.

"Second," she corrected, placing her suitcase inside. She'd keep the tote containing her binoculars and camera with her. "I came here last year for a university visit."

The smile on the cabbie's ruddy face broadened. "I figured you were a student at Ogden. Most freshmen don't come by train, though. They're piled into station wagons along with their parents, brothers, sisters, and the family dog."

Gwynn's cheeks grew hot. She hoped her olive skin hid the flush. By now she should be used to being taken for someone much younger. She'd rationalized it long ago as the curse of being short. Not that her embroidered bellbottoms and peasant blouse helped her look worldly and sophisticated. Still, she'd hoped that just the fact of entering grad school added a certain gravitas. Evidently not.

The cabbie eyed the airline tag on her worn bag. "San Francisco? No wonder your parents didn't bring you." His eyes narrowed. "You're not one of those pot-smoking hippies, are you?"

She laughed off his remark. Stanford was hardly Haight-Ashbury. "The only pot that interests me is the kind plants grow in." She gave him the address on Gerardia Lane that her new housemate had provided. The university had limited grad school housing. To make up for it, they facilitated students sharing rental housing. Astrel's cottage was one of the options on the list. Gwynn knew little about her except that she'd graduated from Ogden last May and her cottage was close to the campus.

As the taxi drove off, Gwynn gazed eagerly out the window. The train station was near downtown where steel-frame buildings co-existed with old brick-and-stone structures. Once the taxi crossed the Essex River, they were in the heart of historic Sedlow.

The cabbie appeared to have appointed himself her tour guide. Along the route, he provided a running commentary on the history of the town, much of which she already knew. Sedlow had been founded in 1645. Ogden University opened its doors in 1660, making it the second oldest university in the country. The cabbie didn't need to tell her about Sedlow's parks. That was one of the main attractions as far as she was concerned. For an ecologist, the region was a dream lab with marshes, woodlands, and the seashore all nearby.

When the taxi turned onto Putnam Avenue, Gwynn could see the wrought-iron gates of the university in the distance. Her mind wandered as she gazed at the shops lining the street.

That is, until the jaguar strolled out of a bookstore.

She held her breath. The jaguar seemed unaware of her or anyone else, for that matter. He appeared to be the same one who'd been stalking her since she was a child. She recognized him by the distinctive bat shape to the dark spots over his eyes. The rippling muscles on his back made the tawny centers of the rosettes writhe as he ambled down the street.

"Miss, are you all right?" The cabbie had stopped at a street light and was regarding her with concern through the rearview mirror.

Gwynn blinked and leaned to one side to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. No wonder he'd been startled. Her face was bleached of color. Sweat beaded on her forehead, making her red hair hang in damp curls.

Furball, she needed to get a grip before he dispatched her to the hospital. "I thought I recognized someone," she said, waving a vague hand to dismiss her reaction as if it was nothing. Sagging into the cracked vinyl seat of the cab, Gwynn blew an errant strand of hair away from her eyes. So much for being over it.