Read Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery) for Free Online Page B

most.”
    His reply silenced Olivia and she felt less confident as the open water dropped away behind them. The land seemed to be gathering them close, squeezing the small craft deeper into a world ruled by insects and birds. It didn’t take long for the noises of these creatures to overpower the sound of the boat’s motor. Haviland barked once as a blue heron took flight from the creek’s edge. Otherwise, he was quiet, as if sensing that they were heading toward a strange and possibly hostile destination.
    Eventually, the water became tinged with eddies of mud, and Harlan tilted the motor toward the boat deck and coasted toward the left bank. He waited until the bow nearly kissed a slope of grass-speckled dirt and then jumped to the shore. A wood gatepost had been set into the ground and he secured the Whaler’s line to it using a figure-eight knot and then offered Olivia his hand.
    She hopped onto the ground, feeling ungainly in her high waders. Haviland leapt with more grace beside her and immediately began to track an interesting scent in a clump of tall grass. The air was dense with the sawing of cicadas and the buzz of flies and mosquitoes, and the ground was teeming with armies of ants and beetles.
    Harlan shouldered a heavy canvas bag and then grabbed a walking stick from inside the boat and made a final adjustment to his baseball cap. “We’ll follow the creek for a spell and then turn inland.”
    Olivia fell into step behind him, her eyes on his walking stick. It had been hand carved and featured a rattlesnake winding along the shaft. The head formed the stick’s handle and Harlan’s fingers fell over a black marble eye, leaving the other to stare at the outside of his right thigh.
    “Did you carve that?” she asked over the din of the insects.
    He didn’t turn around to answer. “No, I don’t have the knack for it. I bought this from a Lumbee Indian who sells his carvings to raise money for his lodge.”
    “Is he local? I thought most of the Lumbee tribe lived in Robeson County.”
    “They do, but they migrated from this neck of the woods once ages back. I went to one of their powwows a few years back, but I won’t have to travel if I want to go this year. They’re having a big one in the forest in two weeks.” He darted a quick glance at her over his shoulder. “You should go. They sell all kinds of crafts and there’s storytelling and dances too.”
    Olivia had no intention of going, but out of politeness asked Harlan when the event would take place.
    “Two Saturdays from now. There’s some food festival going on at the same time. It’ll be a real circus around here.”
    Olivia knew about the Coastal Carolina Food Festival. “My brother signed up to run a food tent on Saturday. He thinks it’ll bring our restaurant lots of new business.”
    Harlan shrugged. “There’ll be a crowd, that’s for sure. Thank Christ I’m retired. I’ll be at home watching a fishing show while the rangers show folks where to park and hand out maps.”
    Haviland trotted in front of Harlan and Olivia called him to heel. The grass they were passing through had grown dense and a canopy of tree limbs shaded the ground, creating a perfect hiding place for snakes. The trail Harlan was following had been little used and Olivia only recognized it as a trail at all because no mature vegetation grew where they walked.
    Amazed by how quickly she felt completely removed from civilization, Olivia glanced back over her shoulder. The water was no longer visible and she felt slightly claustrophobic by its disappearance. “Isn’t it unusual for Munin to be living on public park land?”
    “She doesn’t. A little stream runs between her place and the park. I doubt the latest crop of rangers even know she’s there.”
    Olivia wanted to pepper Harlan with a dozen questions. Where did Munin come from? Had she just materialized in the swamp one day? What did she eat? How did she keep clean?
    But it wouldn’t be long before