Birdseed was thrown into the backyard every morning, and by eight o’clock every bird nesting in the surrounding trees was gathered on the lawn for its breakfast. Artemis had already walked down the road to the mailbox, retrieved the morning paper and laid it at Olympia’s place at the table, even though Olympia was not yet home from Charleston. Artemis usually read her news from her phone in the wee hours while having her coffee, but Olympia was old school and preferred her news to come folded and in thin white paper form. It would be there for her whenever she and Salem came in from their long drive home. When she had awakened that morning, Artemis saw a text from Salem saying they’d left out around 5am in the hopes of getting back to Daihmler by noon.

  By lunchtime the large table in the dining room was ready for the hungry whenever the lazy Blanchard’s at home and the road-weary Blanchard’s driving back made it to the table. Being a Sunday morning, everyone was sleeping in it seemed. The smell of the country fried steak and gravy was appearing to rouse a few. Demitra was down now, helping load the peas and potatoes into bowls as Artemis put biscuits onto a platter. By 11:45 everyone in the house stumbled their way down the kitchen stairs to take their prospective seats around the table. Seth and Yasmine looked to have just woken up and thrown something on just to be presentable. Fable commented on their slovenly appearances. Beryl was ignoring everyone as she flipped through emails from her phone. Artemis and Demitra took their seats at the precise moment Salem and Olympia came through the door—both very pleased to see they’d made it in time for lunch. They were starved.

  Over lunch, Olympia gave the family a condensed summary of how the Consort meeting had gone. Salem remained quiet about meeting her father. She was not quite ready to talk about that experience yet. She suspected Olympia knew—Olympia always knew everything—but since her grandmother had not mentioned it, Salem assumed she was respecting her privacy.

  “What did everybody else do last night?” Fable asked, cutting into a piece of fried steak. “Yaz, didn’t you have a date with Jake? Looks like you got in awfully late. What did ya’ll do last night?”

  “Broke up.” Yasmine smiled.

  “What?” Beryl exclaimed.

  “Wow.” Fable gasped. “Well you don’t seem very upset up about it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Wanna share any details?” Fable asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Okay,” Fable continued. “Seth, how was your evening with the preacher’s daughter?”

  “We broke up.” Seth grinned.

  “Geez!” Beryl said. “It was a bad night for Blanchard romance.”

  “Not necessarily.” Yasmine giggled. Seth blushed, and nodded permission to her.

  “What is going on with you two?” Demitra asked.

  “Oh my God, you two had sex last night didn’t you!” Fable exclaimed.

  Yasmine and Seth both turned beet red. “Fable!” Yasmine cried.

  The older Blanchards were not prepared for this declaration. Artemis nearly choked on her coffee while Demitra dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clank. Olympia appeared to be almost on the verge of laughing—something in her wise old eyes was perhaps not as surprised by Fable’s outburst as her daughters.

  “I thought I heard noises coming from your room last night Seth.” Fable continued. “That bedframe of your needs some grease if you two plan on doing that again.”

  All eyes turned to look at Seth Blanchard. He found himself, the only male in the family, being stared down by every set of female eyes in the household. He gave an uneasy shrug and tried to look back down at his plate but continued to feel all the women’s eyes burning into him.

  “Seth what games have you been playing with this child?” Artemis scolded.

  “No, no no!” Seth stuttered. “You don’t understand. Yaz and me love each other.”

  “I am thoroughly confused here.” Beryl said.

  Olympia clasped her hands together and beamed from across the table. “I for one am thrilled. I have felt for some time there was something between the two of you. I had given up hope you two would ever become smart enough to figure it out.”

  Beryl pressed her hands on the table before her and tried to get some clarification, “Let me get this straight. You and Yaz are in love now?”

  “I don’t think now is the right word,” Seth replied, looking directly into Yasmine’s eyes. “Yaz, you and I have been doing this thing since we were teenagers. I don’t need time to know if it’s right or not. Tonight—or last night rather—when I was talking about you and the way I feel about you to Vanessa, I realized you’ve been my girlfriend all these years.”

  Everyone around the table were now looking directly at Yasmine and all could see the mammoth tears welling in her eyes.

  “Seth,” she whispered.

  “I thought about it all the rest of the night,” Seth continued. “You know, after you acted like a big slut and then went back to your room.”

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  Yasmine kicked him under the table as Fable simultaneously slapped his arm as hard as she could.

  “You are the one Yaz. The only one.”

  Yasmine grabbed his hand and asked, “What are you trying to say?”

  Seth jumped from the table and popped down on one knee before her—and the entire family. “It’s you Yazzy. You. The only one for me. I do not need time to figure that out. I want you now, as my wife.”

  A collective gasp of shock and disbelief erupted from the throat of every Blanchard seated.

  Yasmine, too, was startled by the proclamation. “Wife?”

  Seth grimaced, “Well, you don’t have to vomit in the back of your throat over the idea.”

  “No, no Baby, that’s not what I meant,” she said taking his face in her hands and kissing him gently. “It’s just--wouldn’t you like more time to make sure this is what you really want? We don’t have to get married to be together.”

  Seth looked up at the others, all staring down at him. Little beads of embarrassed sweat began to form on his brow and run down behind his ears. Was Yaz really turning him down in front of everyone?

  “I don’t need or want time,” Seth stammered. “I just want you at my side as my wife till the day I die. Are you saying you aren’t ready? Do you not want to get married?”

  Yasmine’s brilliant blue eyes widened as she grasped his hands tight, “I would love to be your wife. I have dreamed about it for as long as I can remember, but I pushed the thoughts away because I didn’t think you felt the same. But Seth I love you so much. I’ll marry you anytime anyplace.”

  “Am I the only one that thinks everyone has gone insane during the night?” Demitra said.

  “I feel like I have whiplash now.” Artemis said to her sister. “I did not see this coming.”

  Salem grabbed her brother’s hand and Yasmine’s. “I am stunned,” she said. “But in a mind-blown, happy way. Little brother, you know how I feel about you and Yaz has always been like a sister to me. Now she’s actually going to be!”

  Artemis cleared her throat in that authoritarian way she had just before handing down an opinion to the children. “May I ask a question? Is there a reason for this rush to marry?”

  “No, Aunt Artemis. Yaz isn’t pregnant.” Seth rolled his eyes. Then suddenly he paused and turned to look at Yasmine. “Oh my God, we didn’t use—I mean, are you on the—”

  “Seth, please shut up.” Yasmine grumbled, turning redder.

  Seth turned back to his aunt. “As of up until last night, Yasmine wasn’t pregnant. We are not getting married because we have to. We are getting married because we finally realized we’ve loved each other for years. Why waste any more time? We know this is right.”

  Olympia clapped her hands together ringing out a sound that garnered everyone’s attention. “This is an exciting day! I am exceedingly pleased with this development. There is no woman on earth better suited to put up with Seth than our sweet Yasmine. And I think Yasmine is quite fortunate to have found a man willing to look as foolish as Seth has looked at this lunch today, just to declare his love for her. I can feel it in my heart that the two of you are soulmates. You always have been.”

  “Mother, don’t you think this whole thing is going just a little too fast?” Artemis pointed out.

  “Let it go, Sister.” Demitra cautioned. “Just let them do them.”

  Artemis shook her head in frustration and pushed her plate aside. “I’ll start the dishes.”

  “Have a wedding date in mind?” Fable asked.

  Yasmine and Seth looked at each other. “Today?” Seth asked.

  “No.” Yasmine said, shaking her head. “How about October. That gives us time.”

  “Oh, Halloween!” Fable suggested.

  “Fine by me,” agreed Seth.

  “Excellent.” Olympia smiled. “I think that will be a perfect day and plenty of time to make this a perfect wedding. And Yasmine, your grandfather kept a couple of things I was to give you on your wedding day. I can’t wait to get them out of storage.”

  As the children all left the table to begin their various days. Olympia scanned the headlines of her newspaper as she sipped her coffee. Artemis and Demitra were clearing the table and putting away the breakfast things. They’d ended any discussion of the engagement because arguing over whether it seemed too soon or not was pointless. Seth and Yasmine appeared to be happy and in the end that was all that counted. Topics moved on to more mundane things—the dishwasher was acting up again. Someone left a fork in the disposal. It was only when Olympia spoke up, reading a headline, that their attention turned to more important things.

  “There’s been another murder in Daihmler.” Olympia announced. “Last night. A girl in the park.”

  “Which park?” Demitra asked.

  “Yerby Park,” Artemis answered. “I read about it this morning online. Why? Are you on the case now?”

  “Yes.” Demitra answered. “Charlie Bennet asked me to start working on the case. I have to go check out the crime scenes. I guess I’ll drive out to Yerby Park this afternoon.”

  “Let me go with you. Just in case It’s not safe.”

  The section of the park was blocked off by police tape, although no officers still lingered from the day’s investigation. Demitra and Artemis canvassed the area, unsure what they were expecting to find. Demitra touched a few things. A tree, the ground, a nearby trash can lid. She could feel something but nothing definite. Whatever it was, was faint.

  “Sense anything?” Artemis asked.

  “Not really.” Demitra said. “There is something here, but I can’t zero in on it.”

  “You’re not getting images?”

  “No, it’s hard to explain. It’s like there’s a definite impression here but I’m not connecting to it yet.” Demitra explained. “There was a mother and her little girl here. I am honed into their imprint. They had ice cream. The little spilled some on her new dress and was terribly upset. The mother used Wet Wipes. The stain was still there. I see them very clearly. The little girl was so upset. She loved her dress.”

  “Funny that would be the overlaying emotion left at a murder scene.” Artemis observed.

  “Unless this isn’t the murder scene.” Demitra considered. “Maybe it is just where the body was left.”

  “If the murder didn’t take place here,” Artemis said now understanding. “Then there’s no real emotion or energy imprinted here.”

  “Except the killer.” Demitra said. “I should be able to connect to him. People, no matter how good or bad, leave a trace of their feelings lingering for a while. But I’m getting nothing.”

  Artemis walked over to the chalk outline of where the body was found. It disturbed her to know this was where an innocent person had been so monstrously discarded, as if their life hadn’t counted. The victim deserved better.

  “Try touching the ground here,” she suggested to her sister.

  Demitra placed her hand where the victim had been discovered, but no impressions came to her at all. It was no different than any other spot she had laid her hands. This was unusual for Demitra Blanchard. Usually, she picked up on trace elements of a scene rather quickly. But there was nothing here to absorb.

  “I don’t feel anything, Artemis.”

  “What if we go to one of the other crime scenes?”

  “We can try.” Demitra said. “But this was the most recent. It has the best chance. The field around the others has probably faded by now. I just don’t understand why I’m not getting any kind of residue from the killer.”

  “Maybe he’s just that cold.” Artemis replied. “Maybe he has no emotion at all. Nothing you can read.”

  “I can’t imagine a person who could be that cold.”