Dora drove through the little village of Topanga and made a right on the road just past the library. Up she climbed until she got to a long, steep driveway, the gradient at a forty-degree angle. The assent was so sharp she had to gun her way up. The sprawling vacation rental, supported by wooden stilts, was perched over a northerly cliff that boasted sweeping views of the canyon. It was a gorgeous view of rolling green hills and bigleaf maple, white scrub oak and white alder trees, though currently all swallowed up by the fog. Dora parked, noticing the absence of cars.
Mara wasn't here yet?
Maybe Mara went to the store. Dora got out of the car and then immediately ducked back in for her sweater. She walked around the lot to the hip-length gate and opened it, following the rough wooden steps down to the deck and the front door. Dora peered through the window at the kitchen, neat, clean and absent of Mara. She went inside and helped herself to a cup of water, then searched her purse for her phone to text Mara that she was here.
“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. She'd forgotten her phone at the house and she could picture right where she left it, on the bathroom counter. The feel of movement under her feet, the creak of the floorboards and the sound of a footstep had Dora whipping around.
Mara stood with one hand over her chest and a rag in the other. "Jesus, Dora, you just scared the living daylights out of me," she exclaimed.
"Likewise," Dora grinned. "Where's your car?"
"Oh. It wouldn't start this morning. I think it's the battery, although I don't know why it would be dead, we just had it serviced a few months ago and Juan said everything was good. Anyway, I caught a Lyft up here."
The two eyed each other and Mara tossed the rag to a corner of the floor before washing her hands.
"How about a cup of coffee? And then we can talk. I have that new cappuccino maker I bought for the house. I can make us a cappuccino."
"Coffee's fine. I already had a cappuccino." Dora could feel her heart speeding up, a heat flushing through her body at the anticipation of what she was about to bring up. "It looks nice in here," she said instead to hide her fluster.
"Thanks." Mara pulled out a bag of Peet's, pouring beans into a grinder. "We've sunk a lot of money into this place. But I think it'll all be worth it.” She filled an electric kettle with water and ground the beans, placing the grounds in a French press. "Come on, I'll show you around. You haven't seen the new bedroom yet, have you?”
“When it was under construction.”
“It's been a while.” Mara flashed her a smile, in her element. She loved interior design, her decorating style very Scandi, Dora thought to herself as they traipsed through the various rooms. There was a lot of wood, sturdy furniture, natural woven materials, linen and strategically placed plants, most of the hanging variety. She'd hung Dora's painting of a young girl in a forested setting with a faint smile on her lips, a small paring knife in her hand and a basket of herbs hanging on the opposite arm. There was a darkness to the girl that Dora never liked. She reminded her too much of Little Girl, but Mara had fallen in love with the painting and Dora was only too glad to let her have the creation.
"I just love that piece," Mara said, following Dora's gaze. Something radiated from Mara's eyes that Dora couldn't place. Sadness?
The sound of boiling water dissipated as the kettle clicked off, and they made their way back to the kitchen where Mara made their coffees.
"So," she handed Dora her cup. "You said you remember something from that night when Taylor was killed."
Suddenly Dora felt too hot, too closed in, unable to breathe.
"Do you mind if we go outside? I'm––God, I feel like I can't breathe properly." Dora set her coffee down. She didn't want it after all.
"Yeah. Of course." Mara's face flushed red and she grabbed a sweater hanging over one of the kitchen chairs, slipping it on. They stepped out, Mara leading the way. She was so tall, taller than Enzo. Mara had done some modeling in her youth and made good money from it, allowing her to buy her first house at only the age of twenty.
They walked a little further up the driveway toward the property line's peak and the grand vista, their feet crunching on the gravel.
"We just need to enclose this area," Mara said of the open drop off. "Carlos was supposed to have done it two weeks ago." She rolled her eyes. "Such a pain in the ass. Contractors never do what they say they're going to do." Mara still had that valley girl way of talking. Ago, she pronounced, a go.
She took a sip of her coffee, gazing at Dora. "What's up? You don't seem yourself."
"Were you there that night?" Dora hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. She'd wanted to take it a little more slowly, feel Mara out, let her be in control of the conversation. Dora didn't want to spook her friend. She definitely didn't want to give Mara the idea that she was under suspicion. But her silence––the way her facial muscles seemed to freeze up, how she gripped her coffee cup, pupils constricting into tiny dots––told Dora yes.
Tall.
Mara walking away.
Headlights.
"You were there."
A smile flitted across Mara's face––maybe it was nerves––followed by a deep blush. "No," she said, her denial so soft, a whisper, really.
"I saw you." Dora's mind scrambled to assemble elusive images, out of order.
Serene.
The realization took her breath away.
Serene had come out recently.
She had been the
