The police arrived, sirens polluting the death-scented air. Having surrendered to sleep in her weeping, Inaya carried Kodiak to her bedroom, quietly changed her into clean clothes. Kodiak curled slumbering amidst stuffed animals and furred blankets, hopefully, tonight's trauma dispelled from her mind forever.
Inaya closed the door to their child's room, approached an officer whispering in hushed, concerned voices with her husband. The cold struck her like wind a guttered match, and Inaya tucked her arms around her to still her quivering heart.
"Is she all right?" asked Jantzen.
"She's asleep," Inaya replied, then she turned to the officer. "What's going on?"
Sparing a glance at his notepad, the officer said, "The cat died with a deadly bite mark in his neck, puncturing right through the jugular vein. It killed him instantly, but is the reason why so much blood was in this scene."
"A wild animal?" wondered Inaya.
His face was grim and foreboding. "It's the most likely, however, we had our best evidence detectives on site and we couldn't find any traces left by the animal. No mud – it was raining last night, so there had to be, for the beast had to come from outside – and no pawprints except for your cat's."
Inaya's heart rapped wild like a bird trapped in its cage. "Wait, what are you saying?"
The officer's gaze flicked uncertainly from Inaya to Jantzen, who felt dread trickle into his chest. "I'm saying, your daughter was the only other one in this house who left a trail of evidence."
YOU ARE READING
THE DREAMER'S LAMENT
Short StoryIn the hearts of dreamers, lament will always linger. Sadness can bloom into the brightest, lambent shades, like the rain giving way to the phantom of a rainbow, like the promise of hope. But sorrow may also wind down a darker, colder path. Our hear...
