Secrets in a Still Life - Kari Ganske (ebook reader web TXT) 📗

look later, but I'd grown to trust my first impressions. If I felt a tug for some reason as I looked through quickly, chances were others would too.

Halfway through my second run-through, my mother called up the steps, "Alex? Are you home?"

"Upstairs," I called back absently. I heard my mother's heavy tread on the steps.

"I didn't hear you come in, Peanut. Dinner's almost ready. Did you have a nice walk?" Mom asked from the doorway.

"Mmmm-hmmm," I murmured, only half listening as I focused on the photo on my screen. Something in the grass behind the cardinals pulled my attention. It was a good shot, but I wasn't sure it was worth the effort to crop the offender out. Especially since I may have another similar shot without it. I scrolled through the series.

Nope, just my luck, it was evident in the whole series. What was it, though? I originally pegged it as a bald spot in the grass. If it were some sort of bag or trash that I could have moved and didn't, I would kick myself.

I heard my mother's voice through the fog of concentration, her words registering in disjointed snippets.

"I ran naked down Main Street today, so that should take some of the spotlight off you," Mom said, testing my attention.

"Thanks, Mom," I said automatically. I opened the picture larger than the thumbnail to zoom in. Not a bag. Or bald ground. What was that in the tall grass?

"We're having cooked snake for dinner," Mom tried again.

"Cheese and crackers!" I exclaimed, finally realizing what I was seeing. I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. It couldn't possibly be.

"No. Snake. Like I said. With a side of anchovies."

"It's a woman," I squeaked out. "I think... I think she's dead."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

 

"Maybe you were paying attention after all. Although I will say, this little tug-of-war has taken a dark turn," Mom said, clearly believing I was messing with her as she'd done to me moments ago.

My hands starting shaking. I felt a bit faint. I must have looked upset because in two quick strides Mom was by my side, peering over my shoulder.

She asked, "What's a woman?"

"There. In the brush." I pointed a trembling finger to the picture. Just visible was the leg of a woman, turned at an odd angle away from her body. Most of her body was hidden by the bush in the foreground—the main subject of the photo—but no one would just lay in the grass with their body positioned like that. And why hadn't the woman moved at all when I was there taking pictures?

"It's a joke, right? Someone saw me taking pictures and photo bombed. That's all. Right? That teenager I saw in the woods maybe. Gotta be a prank," I babbled, trying to rationalize the scene.

"I think we better call Chief Duncan," my mother said quietly beside me. "Come downstairs. Sit with your father."

What seemed like only moments later, Chief Duncan knocked on the door. He greeted my parents first. Both wore worried expressions. Mom was as pale as I felt. I sat at the kitchen table strangling a cloth napkin in my hands.

"This is getting to be a bad habit—you and I," Chief Duncan said to me.

I blinked up at him and tried to focus. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Everything except my racing thoughts and even faster heartbeat. I kept trying to see the scene live. How had I missed the woman laying on the ground when I was there in person?

But I hadn't. I'd been so focused on the light and getting my settings right.

"Your mom said you found a body," the chief prompted when I remained quiet.

If the situation weren't so serious, I probably would've found his expression comical. This was likely the first unnatural dead body he'd had to deal with in his career in Piney Ridge. He had his hands folded and resting on his large middle; his face mimicked all the cops in crime dramas, but just missed the mark. He looked half constipated and half angry instead of stern and serious.

I nodded slightly. "I think so," I said in response to his question. I barely recognized my own voice, now thin and unsure.

"Tell me what happened." He pulled a notepad out of his pocket. Mainly for show, I thought as I watched him. I could see the skepticism plainly splashed across his face. Things like murder didn't happen in Piney Ridge. And I was already a troublemaker because of the Welcome sign.

"Let me show you instead," I said, turning my laptop to face him. A picture was worth a thousand words. And would hopefully also stop a thousand denials.

He wandered over to peer at the screen. "What am I looking at? Looks like a bunch of birds," he said, squinting.

I pointed to the leg in the background of the photo. "Look here. Beyond the birds. See, in the grass there? It's a woman's leg."

He raised an eyebrow. "Could be. Could be it's a mannequin. Or a kid playing a prank. Or a trick of the light."

"I hope so," Mom said, standing behind me with comforting hands on my shoulders. "But we thought it warranted a least a look."

The chief glanced out the window at the darkness beyond. "Where was this taken? When?"

I explained my photo walk in the woods earlier that evening. "I didn't see it—her—when I was there. Like you, I focused on the birds. Focused on getting the light right in camera."

"Do you know how to use Photoshop?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes. I'm not sure what that has to do—"

He cut me off. "It lets you add things to photos, right? Manipulate them?"

"Sure. But