The Shadows: A Poppy Farrell Mystery

Chapter 13

Supper plates clean, Poppy put her laptop in her backpack, slung the strap over her shoulder and beckoned Clair and Georgie to come with her. She was in a hurry. They needed to get out before anyone saw them, and before it was full dark.

She pulled Clair and Georgie close to her sides like human shields and tugged them all the way to the front door and out into the forecourt.

"Where's the fire, Pops?" Clair said, pulling her arm loose.

"Come on!" Poppy looked toward the woods, dark and smoky in the twilight. "Hurry."

She dashed across the lawn, trusting her friends to follow. Fueled by adrenaline, Poppy surged up the mound to the little Greek temple and stood in the middle to wait. Clair and Georgie came running up behind her. Clair was breathless, Georgie tense. Joining her, at last, surrounded by graceful white columns and the heavenly painted dome, they slowly simmered down.

Georgie gazed around, eyes wide with wonder. "It's magical in here."

"It is!" said Clair.

Poppy was looking down the hill. Their Shadows had gathered on the lawn, acting nonchalant, but watching.

"Come on!" Poppy beckoned Georgie and Clair, and then plunged down the other side of the mound to the woods.

It was darker in here, shadier. Poppy took her digital camera out of her pocket, wondering if she'd have enough light for photos of the crime scene. If not, at least she had witnesses. Clair and Georgie would have to believe her once they saw the evidence.

"Do you think they'll follow us?" Clair asked, turning to look back through the trees at the folly silhouetted against the pale, grey sky.

"I don't know. This path comes out by the chapel, so we need to be aware that they might pop in on us from any direction," Poppy said.

Their footsteps crackled on twigs and fallen leaves. The trees were turning golden and fiery red; the air smelled like burning wood. Autumn winds had already stripped a few limbs of their foliage. The earth underfoot was black and scattered with yellow and small orange leaves. Poppy batted her way through bare branches and nets of twigs, the sound and smell of running water drawing her, memory guiding the way.

Ears attuned to the sound of more than two breaths, more than two sets of footsteps, she listened. For now, it sounded as if only she, Clair and Georgie were in the woods.

She stopped and pointed into the hollows of the trees.

"It was down there that I found the tennis dress and gold cross." She whipped her head around, eyes darting through the foliage. Clair and Georgie did the same. "Are they watching?"

"Yes." Clair mouthed the word. "I can see them through the trees looking our way."

"Do you want to come with me?" Poppy asked.

Both Clair and Georgie shook their heads no. Georgie gestured to Poppy that they wanted to stand guard.

Refraining from thinking them cowards, Poppy handed her backpack with her laptop in it to Clair. "Cover for me," she said, and stepped toward the bank of ivy and the sound of rushing water.

"Be careful," Georgie whispered.

Clair and Georgie closed ranks.

Poppy stepped through the ivy toward the stream. The soil underneath was mucky, slippery, the vines winding around her ankles. Stepping carefully, Poppy grabbed the odd low-hanging branch, and made her way down the slope.