Read Online Solomon's Oak by Jo-Ann Mapson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jo-Ann Mapson
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up on another planet ? Otherwise you’re the only person in Monterey County who hasn’t heard of my sister, Casey McGuire.”
Casey McGuire .
Casey, who had disappeared four years ago after taking her new dog for a walk.
The dog, full grown, a new addition to the family, had returned to the home he knew best—Solomon’s Oak.
That dog was Glory’s border collie, Cadillac. He’d shown up near three A.M. the night Casey had gone missing, his red leash dragging behind him, scratching at the back door, waking Glory from a deep sleep. She’d put him in his old kennel, angry that the McGuires had allowed him to get loose and angry with herself for misjudging the family even after two home visits. She’d waited until noon the next day to call them. She hadn’t turned on the radio, she had no television to catch the breaking news, and four years earlier the Internet wasn’t so reliable when it came to breaking news.
This was before the Lakeshore neighborhood, made up of old summerhouses and trailers, was razed for development. The McGuires had lived five miles away, across the highway, but even with traffic, Cadillac found his way back to Solomon’s Oak. Despite the Amber Alert, numerous search-and-rescue attempts, posters, hotlines, and television coverage, not a trace of Casey was ever found. Officially, the case remained unsolved.
Glory remembered Casey, and her younger sister their mother called June Bug. She had a round face, dark blond hair, and braces. This Juniper had dyed black hair, a snotty voice, and a tattoo of a bluebird on her neck. “I am so sorry, Juniper. I honestly didn’t know.”
Real tears brimmed at the corners of Juniper’s brown eyes. She looked into the fire and not at Glory, and suddenly Glory was so angry with Caroline for not prepping her that she could have slapped her.
Four years had passed since that afternoon in 1999. Everyone presumed Casey was dead, just another innocent girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once a year, on the anniversary of her disappearance, the Herald ran an abbreviated story. Eternally fourteen years old, Casey, in a smiling school picture, beamed out from the post office bulletin board in the company of kidnappers and criminals wanted for federal offenses. Whenever Glory went to buy stamps, she saw the poster. Lorna kept a dusty basket of BRING CASEY HOME buttons on the counter at the Butterfly Creek General Store. The day after she disappeared, Lorna, Juan, and Dan had ridden horses deep into the wilderness area, searching for her. Helicopters buzzed the area for days. Casey was gone, but here was her fourteen-year-old sister, pierced, angry, and homeless. She had survived the decimation of her family, paying for it with her childhood.
Cadillac would remember her. He understood English, read the subtlest gestures, but one of his uncanny traits was remembering people. So how could Glory tell Juniper her sister’s dog was right outside? She wouldn’t. In the morning Caroline would pick the girl up and that would be end of things. But then again, it was Glory’s fault the scar tissue had torn, so she might as well try to patch things up. For a long while she watched the embers die down.
“Juniper,” she said, praying she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life, “I knew your sister. Nobody in this town has ever stopped looking for her, or hoping for a miracle. Come on, there’s an old friend outside who wants to see you.”
How far back can animals remember? Behaviorists say it takes a deep sensory cue for a dog to recognize something that happened in the past. The connection relies on voice or scent. Dogs have two hundred million scent receptors in their nasal folds; humans have five million. But scent is only one of the memories the cerebrum contains, and it stands to reason that the limbic system can integrate instinct with learning. Caddy knew every arroyo where he’d once found a rabbit. Dodge peed on the same trees every time
Casey McGuire .
Casey, who had disappeared four years ago after taking her new dog for a walk.
The dog, full grown, a new addition to the family, had returned to the home he knew best—Solomon’s Oak.
That dog was Glory’s border collie, Cadillac. He’d shown up near three A.M. the night Casey had gone missing, his red leash dragging behind him, scratching at the back door, waking Glory from a deep sleep. She’d put him in his old kennel, angry that the McGuires had allowed him to get loose and angry with herself for misjudging the family even after two home visits. She’d waited until noon the next day to call them. She hadn’t turned on the radio, she had no television to catch the breaking news, and four years earlier the Internet wasn’t so reliable when it came to breaking news.
This was before the Lakeshore neighborhood, made up of old summerhouses and trailers, was razed for development. The McGuires had lived five miles away, across the highway, but even with traffic, Cadillac found his way back to Solomon’s Oak. Despite the Amber Alert, numerous search-and-rescue attempts, posters, hotlines, and television coverage, not a trace of Casey was ever found. Officially, the case remained unsolved.
Glory remembered Casey, and her younger sister their mother called June Bug. She had a round face, dark blond hair, and braces. This Juniper had dyed black hair, a snotty voice, and a tattoo of a bluebird on her neck. “I am so sorry, Juniper. I honestly didn’t know.”
Real tears brimmed at the corners of Juniper’s brown eyes. She looked into the fire and not at Glory, and suddenly Glory was so angry with Caroline for not prepping her that she could have slapped her.
Four years had passed since that afternoon in 1999. Everyone presumed Casey was dead, just another innocent girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once a year, on the anniversary of her disappearance, the Herald ran an abbreviated story. Eternally fourteen years old, Casey, in a smiling school picture, beamed out from the post office bulletin board in the company of kidnappers and criminals wanted for federal offenses. Whenever Glory went to buy stamps, she saw the poster. Lorna kept a dusty basket of BRING CASEY HOME buttons on the counter at the Butterfly Creek General Store. The day after she disappeared, Lorna, Juan, and Dan had ridden horses deep into the wilderness area, searching for her. Helicopters buzzed the area for days. Casey was gone, but here was her fourteen-year-old sister, pierced, angry, and homeless. She had survived the decimation of her family, paying for it with her childhood.
Cadillac would remember her. He understood English, read the subtlest gestures, but one of his uncanny traits was remembering people. So how could Glory tell Juniper her sister’s dog was right outside? She wouldn’t. In the morning Caroline would pick the girl up and that would be end of things. But then again, it was Glory’s fault the scar tissue had torn, so she might as well try to patch things up. For a long while she watched the embers die down.
“Juniper,” she said, praying she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life, “I knew your sister. Nobody in this town has ever stopped looking for her, or hoping for a miracle. Come on, there’s an old friend outside who wants to see you.”
How far back can animals remember? Behaviorists say it takes a deep sensory cue for a dog to recognize something that happened in the past. The connection relies on voice or scent. Dogs have two hundred million scent receptors in their nasal folds; humans have five million. But scent is only one of the memories the cerebrum contains, and it stands to reason that the limbic system can integrate instinct with learning. Caddy knew every arroyo where he’d once found a rabbit. Dodge peed on the same trees every time
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