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CHAPTER THIRTY ALANA

Alana Wittmore had purchased the Summer Fun Inflatable Swimming pool for approximately $379.99, including tax. Technically it was probably an excessive acquisition, considering that the Wittmores had only intended to be in San Fernando for one week, but now that they were trapped there, the swift fox vixen felt very thankful that she had the pool. With three young children to entertain, swimming gave them something to focus on, and limited the number of times daily when alternately Rufus or Mei-Ling came to her and asked "where's mommy?"

Alana hated those questions. She couldn't blame the children; it was entirely natural for them to be wondering where Claudia was, but she could not bring herself to tell them the truth. How would a five and a four-year-old deal with the revelation that one of their mothers has been violently murdered? They would have to know sooner or later - Ricardo, who at eleven was old enough to understand exactly what had happened, had told her that the two younger Wittmores had been questioning him incessantly about why Claudia hadn't returned. They would have to be told sooner or later.

But not now.

In the backyard, Rufus and Mei-Ling were both splashing in the pool, each wearing a bright orange life jacket, which Alana had insisted they wear when in the pool.Maybe that makes me a helicopter parent, she thought, but it's for their best. Like many modern parents, she and Claudia had started their children in swimming lessons early, but at this age, one could never be too safe. Normally, she wouldn't even allow them into the water unless she was either in the pool herself or sitting just a few feet away, but since the kitchen window of the old Victorian looked out over the backyard, she had decided to put Ricardo, who was unusually responsible for an eleven-year-old - did all parents think that about their children, she wondered? - in charge of watching the children from inside the pool, while she watched from the window while chopping potatoes for that night's dinner.

Look at me, she thought, jabbing at a slice of potato with the knife. I used to make fancy dishes and now the best I can manage is scalloped potatoes. That was what losing your lover could do to a person, though. She wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve and dumped the potatoes into the casserole pan, along with the slices of ham. It was pretty early in the day to be making dinner, but what else could she do? When grief arrives, some people seek solitude, others crowds; some bury themselves in books or television programmes, and then there were those who, like Alana, cooked.

I must be cursed. Maybe that was it. She turned a stove burner onto mid-heat, to begin melting butter for the white sauce. How else could she be 31 years old and already the widow of both a husband and a wife? Could it be her choice of mates? Tomas had been a great husband - but maybe she'd married too young. She could just see the faces of all her and Claudia's friends in LA, snickering at that silly vixen who'd hooked up with a rodeo rider at the age of 18. But it hadn't been a mad marriage. Tomas had given her Ricardo, even if he had also rode too many bad broncos, until one killed him. Which had led to-

Damn it, she thought. I can't be crying in the sauce. I must put on a brave face for the children. They are my life now. That wasn't a particularly scary thought, either way - Alana loved children, so being the single mother of four did not frighten her - with Claudia's millions, neither she nor, more importantly, any of their children, would ever need for anything.

Maybe she'd move back to the country. She'd enjoyed Hollywood and all the glitz and glamour which accompanied it, but the thought of facing it all now, without confident, awe-inspiring Claudia at her side, was overwhelming. Even more so was the notion of facing thousands of sympathetic faces - no. Dealing with the media who'd surrounded her house for the first two days after Claudia's - she shuddered - murder had been bad enough, enough so that the police had been required to come and chase the offending reporters away, but returning to Hollywood would be a nightmare, one she did not want to face. Not now.

How could Claudia be gone? The last morning together, they'd argued over something silly - she couldn't even remember, now. Probably something to do with Rufus; the little hyena was such a wild little boy that Alana and Claudia had frequently clashed on how to deal with him. Alana, being a country girl, was of the mind that boys will be boys, whereas Claudia preferred that Rufus be quiet and gentlemanly like Ricardo. It didn't really matter in the long run, though, did it? If she'd only known that they next time she'd see Claudia's face was the -

No, no, no. She did not need to picture that again. She wanted to remember Claudia the way the leopardess had been while alive, tough and charismatic. Not dead, hanging by a fish hook.

Damn! She poured the sizzling sauce over the potatoes and ham, wishing it was molten lead pouring over the face of that monster, the Prophet. How she wished she had the man himself, whatever species he was, standing in front of her. Alana still owned the little 22 pistol she'd purchased back after Tomas had died, not wanting any chance that a man could try to take advantage of her. If she had the Prophet himself in front of her, she'd shoot him right between the eyes, and enjoy it too.

But, no. Such thoughts weren't helping, and neither was thinking about Claudia in general; not at this moment, anyway. She put a casserole lid on the pan and put it in the refrigerator, for later. For now, it was time to prepare a little lunch snack for the kids. She dug through the drawers, setting out a jug of juice; pepperoni sticks for Rufus, bamboo strips for Mei-Ling, and cheese and bread for all of them. How odd children are, she mused lovingly. All the fancy dishes she made, and yet her children still preferred simple grilled cheese!

Out the window, Rufus and Mei-Ling were shouting at each other, which they did often, and mutually tormenting Ricardo with water guns. Watching their antics made Alana smile in spite of herself. Life was so simple to her children; they did not understand the kind of twists of fate which can motivate someone to start murdering as the Prophet had done. May they never truly know.

She put four plates on the table. Perhaps she'd better check on Emma. The baby had made the transition to bottle-feeding about as well as could be expected, which considering she was an easy baby, had gone pretty well. When Alana peered over the edge of the cradle, though, the little leopardess was still sound asleep. Poor babe, never knowing her mother. But she has me, Alana thought, and I won't fail her.

When she stepped back into the kitchen, Mei-Ling had vanished from the pool, and Rufus was climbing out. Coming in for lunch - except that the towels she'd set out had gone ignored. Ricardo was shouting something at the fleeing toddlers, a warning probably, but it went ignored, because seconds later the screen door banged and Mei-Ling came toddling into the kitchen, dripping water everywhere.

"Rufus peed in the pool!" the little panda declared dramatically, her lip shaking, as in the background the door banged again.

"I DID NOT!" Rufus screamed, running in behind her, stark naked. He'd already pulled off his swimsuit, and every fur on his body seemed to be individually dripping all over the vintage hardwood floor. "She's a liar!"

"Rufus! Mei-Ling" Alana scolded, rushing to grab new towels from the hall cabinet. "Stop shouting, you'll wake the baby."

"I told you, he did it" Mei-Ling insisted as Alana wrapped a beach towel around her.

Rufus stuck up his snout definitely. "I did not. She's just mad 'cause I sprayed her in the eye with my blaster."

"That wasn't very nice, Rufus" Alana said calmly, her ears perked in case Emma started crying.

Her son gave Mei-Ling a sour look. "She said I wasn't tough enough to be a pirate."

"Because he said I was ugly!" Mei-Ling wailed.

Alana pulled both children to her. "I don't care who started it. I'd like you both to shake paws and say 'I love you.'"

Predictably, both children protested, but Alana stood firm, and after a moment, she was rewarded. "Now, lunch is ready, so let's get your clothes back on."

Unfortunately, at that very moment Rufus's furry ears caught the sound of the mail car stopping at their gate. "The mail is here!" he shrieked.

"Rufus" Alana warned, but her son had already shed the towel and ran, buck naked, down the hall and out the front door, which slammed. Damn, she muttered to herself. Typically, she and Claudia had never received mail at this home, but since Claudia's murder, the address had somehow gotten out, so that every day she received numerous condolences. And sympathy was not something she wanted right now.

As soon as the little hyena had come bounding back in the door, bearing a pile of mail, she sat him down for a warning. "Rufus. Remember what I said about not going outside without clothes on?"

"Mommy said that, not you" he argued. "Anyway, I got the mail for you!"

His bright little smile was too much. Alana could never stay annoyed with the children for long, not when they were sweet and innocent, so instead of scolding the boy further, she just smiled and hugged him "Thank you, sweetie" she whispered.

Her eyes caught a larger, grey shape among the envelopes.

Curious, she pushed aside several envelopes that looked suspiciously like the kind used for hallmark cards and lifted a clear plastic DVD case, like the kind used at DVD rental stores. Inside was a single blank DVD, on which a few words had been written in black sharpie.

She turned the case so the letters were legible, and read:

Alana Wittmore - do you want the answers?

She read it again, and suddenly the momentary happiness she'd felt holding her son evaporated, as a cold chill ran down her spine. She spun so she was looking the hyena in the eye. "Rufus - who did you see outside?"

He blinked, not understanding. "Only the mailman, mom."

It wouldn't have been in the mail, though - there was no address attached. Standing, she wondered what she should do. Call the police? Yes, that was what she should do - but she was a fox, and foxes were too curious for their own good. Uncertainly she walked out into the entry, glanced out the front door. Not a sign of anyone near. She shut the door, and locked it for good measure, then went into the living room. Ricardo had come in from the backyard, and watched her, with shaking paw, remove the DVD and place it in the player.

"Mom? What's that?"

"I don't know" she answered, turning on the TV. "Just something that - never mind. Go get your brother and sister and sit down for lunch. I'll be in in a minute."

The screen blinked on, and both Alana and Ricardo froze.

The image was dark, and not of the best camera quality, but what it showed was clear. Two wolves, a male and a female, and both young. Early twenties, maybe. Both of them had one arm bound behind their backs, apparently, and the other was stretched to the side so that the male wolf's right paw and the female's left were tied together with rope. The girl wolf was crying.

"Mom, what is this?" Ricardo repeated sharply.

Alana swallowed, but from the background of the television, a deep, mechanical voice had begun speaking. "Greetings, fellow children of God. Are you prepared to see the judgement of heaven passed upon two vile sinners? For the prophet hath spoken: 'Behold, that those who are abominations shall not pass before a merciful God, but shall be thrown into the pits of hell, to suffer damnation for all eternity.'"

The voice paused. Alana was shaking, beginning to pant. No, this couldn't be real. It was a nightmare; those wolves weren't actually prisoners of...

"The man you see before you, Ken Harding, a sinner of magnitude, is a member of the American Marines" the Prophet - for who else could he be - continued. "The female is his twin sister, Eliza. Ken Harding is a sodomite, but remember, repentant children of God - she who associates with a sodomite becomes equally as guilty as the sodomite himself."

At that point, the male wolf, Ken Harding, growled. "Let her go!" he snarled, jerking in vain against the ropes. "Your contest is with me, not her."

"Silence, sinner" the voice commanded.

Harding started shouting again, but the Prophet must have muted the sound when recording the DVD, because all that the wolf was able to say was "He's a-" before it shut off. He was trying to tell us what species the Prophet is, Alana thought in horror. Oh God. She had to stop watching, oh, but she couldn't tear her eyes away...

"Judgement is upon us!" the Prophet droned when the sound returned, and from off-screen, the distinctive sound of a chainsaw starting rose above the protests of the two wolves.

Eliza Harding was crying, and Ken had ceased his angry objections in favour of whispering "Don't cry sis, it'll all be over soon."

Somewhere in the house Rufus and Mei-Ling were arguing over something, and Emma had begun to wail, but Alana was oblivious. She spoke without looking away. "Ricardo, leave. Do not watch this."

But neither she nor her son could move; both foxes were paralysed in the horror of watching as the chainsaw appeared and moved down, down, down, until in a spray of blood it cut right through Ken Harding's arm.

Alana opened her mouth to scream.