Statera - The Balanced One

Chapter One (Part One)

(Zora)

Quilaiah, Washington State:

It started with a call to Dad's number, and when there was no answer, I called Mom's expecting something different. But, instead, it resulted in more of the same, and tightness claimed my chest as anxiety became an unwanted tenant. They said they'd be back by nine, yet the vintage clock hanging over the fireplace was tolling ten. Two more hours of pacing wore the area rug thin and ushered in midnight's arrival. I wasn't one to cry, but as another hour passed, there was nothing else I could do as anxiety gave way to fear.

Imagining the worst can move a person to the brink of insanity. Rather than succumb to it, I called my dad's sister—she'd know what to do. Word traveled through the tribe like lightning, and every tracker searched the surrounding forest where my parents hunted. Six hours later, when the sun's orange glow broke the horizon and filtered through the far-off evergreens, I heard a knock at the door. Giving my back to the window-framed view, I knew it wasn't my parents—they wouldn't have knocked.

"Zora Furr?" The officer asked.

Everything was static in my ears afterward, but I didn't need to hear to know it wasn't good.

"Miss Furr, did you hear me?"

The shock of what was happening was so strong. I had no words. Nod was all I could do.

"Can you come downtown and identify the bodies? You're the next of kin," He glanced at a small notepad, "because Alma Furr refused."

"Yes—just a moment."

He waited in the doorway as I absently roamed around collecting my keys and phone. My feelings remained numb and disconnected until I was led into a room with comfortable chairs and a coffee table hosting a box of tissues to wait. Sometime later, as the door creaked, a woman holding a file came in and took the seat across from me.

"Hello, Zora. I'm Ms. Stiles. What I'll be showing you is disturbing, and I'm sorry you're going through this. These photographs were taken at the scene. We need to confirm the victims are your parents.

She slid two face-down photographs across the table. My hand shook as it hovered over them. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and flipped the pictures individually. My insides ran cold as I stared at the images. Whatever happened to them wasn't an accident. Tears stung and threatened to destroy my composure as I turned away.

"Zora, are they your parents, Dylan and Colleen Furr?" Ms. Stiles asked gently.

Nodding, my grief overran me, and the tears couldn't be contained anymore.

"I'm sorry, but I need you to respond verbally, Zora."

"Yes," I said through sobs.

"Is there someone we can call for you?" Ms. Stiles said, handing me a wad of Kleenex.

"My Aunt Diana, I mumbled.

After Ms. Stiles rushed from the room, my phone didn't take long to ring. When I answered, Aunt Di was on the other end.

"Zora, I'm on my way to Seattle. I will take care of everything. It's going to be okay. You'll come back to Oklahoma with me after the funeral. You're going to be fine."