Crime

The crime was unspeakable and, therefore, a media darling. The family of the victim, in shock, sleepless, and unable to eat, felt it necessary to speak forgiveness to the mics shoved in front of their faces by the people camped on their lawn. "The person is sick; we just want them to get help ...," they said. "We hope that justice will be served and everyone will find peace ...," they said. "We just want to put this behind us and heal ...," they said. But it was Granny at sunrise who opened the front door and stared straight ahead as if her keening had let her see the person clearly and make eye contact across any attempt to hide from it. "You will be found," she whispered, "and in the finding is your undoing, for I have marked one of your bones as mine; it is weighted by nails and chained in iron and you will not be allowed to be buried whole. You will walk this place for all eternity, hollow and suffering, ripped from the normal course of things. It does not matter who finds you, cops or critters, because one of your bones is marked and mine." She turned, shutting the door behind her, and the journalists were silent (with the exception of Lionel, who had stopped filming to offer praise and humility to Santa Muerte, deeply moved).