Death of a Songbird Read Online Free Page B

drifted lazily. Squirrels chattered in the pines, answered occasionally by the scolding call of a raven. Violet-green swallows and tree swallows darted in and out of the branches overhead. A yellow warbler flitted from willow to birch. Lark dozed with her back propped against the warm bark of a tall ponderosa.
    “This one’s different.”
    Rachel’s excitement-tinged voice yanked Lark from dreams of Tidy Bowl and sparkling toilets, and she rubbed her eyes. “Describe it.”
    “It has a red head.”
    Reluctantly, Lark pushed up from her seat under the pine. “And?”
    The lens pointed across the water toward the aspens and pine rimming the north side of the lake. Using her naked eye, she spotted from the end of the scope, catching a glimpse of red and yellow in the branches. A western tanager? “I saw the red. Does it have a yellow body, with black wings and a black tail?”
    “No. It’s more gray, with a black headband.”
    “Let me look,” Lark said, pushing Rachel aside.
    Rachel rubbed her shoulder. “It’s dead center.”
    While Lark refocused, the bird took flight Darn . “Do you see it, Rae? Where did it go?”
    Rachel pointed left. “There. Up in the tree.”
    “Which tree?” There were hundreds to choose from. Lark panned the scope, zooming in on the bird as it perched on a small limb. Excitement hummed through her veins. She’d never seen a bird like this one before. “Can you find my notebook and pen?”
    “Where are they?”
    “Try in my backpack.” Lark heard Rachel rummaging in the pack and resisted hurrying her. “Did you find them?”
    “Got ’em.”
    “Take notes,” Lark ordered. “The bird is warbler-sized, with a red face, throat, and chest. It has a black cap that extends down its neck, with gray wings, back, and tail. Its underparts look white, and it has a white patch on the back of its neck.”
    The bird flew again.
    “Shoot,” Lark said, swinging the scope left. Too far left! The parking lot behind the Warbler Café loomed into view.
    In the lens, a black-hooded figure raised an arm. Sunlight glinted off something silver.
    Blinded, Lark swung the scope right in search of the bird. In her mind’s eye, the glint of silver coalesced into a knife. Breathing hard, she jerked the scope back left.
    “What are you doing?” Rachel asked, pointing in the opposite direction. “The bird’s over there.”
    Lark squinted through the lens. The arm dropped. Silver flashed. Esther Mills screamed in silent pain.

CHAPTER 3
    Lark gripped the handle of the scope and zoomed the lens tighter. This time, when the black-hooded figure raised his arm, silver dripped red.
    “No! Oh, no!” Lark screamed as the arm dropped again. Swallows flushed overhead, darting chaotically in flashes of white, violet green, and rust. The red-faced bird streaked away.
    “What is it?” Rachel asked. “What’s wrong?”
    Lark’s heart banged in her chest. “He’s wearing a black mask with letters. E, Z, L, N. And gloves.”
    The figure turned. Angry eyes stared in their direction, seeming to burn across the distance, though reality said the eyes were too far away to see. The figure turned and disappeared as quickly as a startled chickadee. Lark tilted the scope down. Esther Mills’s body lay in a crumpled heap on the asphalt.
    “Do you have your phone?” she demanded, hoping that today wouldn’t be an exception to the fact that Rachel always carried her phone.
    “Why?”
    Lark raised her voice. “Do you have it?”
    “Yes.” Rachel rooted inside her backpack. “It’s here somewhere.”
    “Find it and call nine-one-one.” Lark sprinted toward the trail, yelling at Rachel over her shoulder, “Tell them Esther Mills has just been stabbed.”
    “What?” Rachel cried, scrambling after her.
    “Call them! I saw it happening, just now.” Lark crashed through the underbrush, startling birds and squirrels, and outrunning a frightened cottontail to reach the trail. Her heart banged against her rib