It was a Saturday night in mid-October. Dana sat with an empty wine glass before her while listening to the end of the confusing and unbelievable story. She was beginning to feel a bit queasy, probably brought on by the cheap wine that boasted the Tree Goddess painting. It had a unique taste, but not bad. The ill feeling would probably wear off soon.
Not all Dana"s questions had been answered. “Okay, so Mary suspected that her husband was killing women and keeping their bodies in the mausoleum. But that doesn"t explain the artist who made the painting on the bottle. Why did he have encounters with them before they disappeared?”
Daren took the final gulp of wine from his glass and set it down on the table. He had been referring to himself as “Mary"s husband” throughout the story.
At that
