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she would.  Groggily he opened his eyes and in the dim light saw that it was nearly 3 am.  Worried, he slipped from bed, going to the dresser on his side of the bed where he found a pair of long pajama bottoms that he put on, then he left their room, going in search of his wife.

On the third floor of their great house, in the room where she had taken the trunk, Evelyn sorted through the items, now dry and safe, that she and Jonathan had salvage.  They were the only things left of their parents, now long gone, and she had not realized how deep the hurt still was until she had begun to remember.  She knew Alex hadn�t meant anything by asking her about his grandparents, and felt regret and sorrow that she had not gotten to know them, that she had not taken the time to tell him about how wonderful they were.  Even now thinking about them brought on a fresh set of tears, and she lifted a quilt her mum had made to her breast, clinging to it as she began to cry once more.

It was there in that room, where Rick finally found her, and he didn't hesitate to cross the room to the four-post canopy bed.  There he sat and gathered her in his arms, and held her as she cried.  He didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to do something, for all their sakes.  "Shh, I've got you,� he repeated as he held her on his lap. 

"It shouldn't hurt this much,� Evie managed as she lifted her face from his bare chest to look into his eyes.  She found his love there waiting for her, and she let that give her strength.

In all their years of marriage, they had traveled the world to exotic places, discovering long lost treasures, spending time together, laughing and growing to love one another.  Rick had told her all about his childhood in Cairo, and in other orphanages, but had never pushed her to talk about her parents, and decided maybe it was time she faced that time.  "Come on.  Our room is warmer, and I think maybe we need to talk,� he said as he stood her on her own to feet.  He stood beside her, and held out his hand and when she took it, they both went to their room hopefully to talk about what had happened that had changed this family�s life, and had turned it upside down.

Lady Pyrrha ([email protected]) September 4, 2002
Rick rubbed his hand lovingly over his wife's shoulder, silently willing her to talk but not wishing to push her. He
knew that if she hadn't offered to tell him herself that he would not be hearing the story of her parent's death at all.

Evelyn took a deep breath. She wondered what in the world had possessed her to finally tell the story. It was just too soon! But no. It had been thirty years since she was just the little girl that had learned of her parents' sudden death. She was married now to the man that she loved more than life itself and had a thirteen-year-old son that was just as precious. Her husband deserved to know.

"My parents were as wonderful as I could ever hope for. However, they were not home as often as both Jonathan and I or my parents themselves wished to be. It was on one of those excursions, on a dig in Luxor that the horrid happened."

"They died?" Rick inserted after her moment of silence.

Evelyn nodded. A lump had formed in her throat and she was unsure if she could continue. She wasn't sure if she wanted to either. She had never told the story of her parents' death, although she had relived those dreadful days after it many times in her mind.  Most of the visions had occurred when she was younger and had stopped long before she had met Rick. However, ever since Alex had asked about his grandparents, she had been having reoccurring nightmares of the same events.

"Evie?" Rick questioned, stroking her long brown hair.

"Yes?" she asked, staring down blankly at the comforter on their bed.

"How did your parents die?"

"They... I..." she tried, but her voice broke into a strangled sob. She was unable to continue. The pain was still too fresh.  Again, as it had happened with Alex, her mind reverted back to that of a seven-year old girl who had just simultaneously lost both her parents.

Jonathan sat beside his younger sister, holding her hand in his own. Their nana sat beside them as mourners passed them.  Some stopped to offer their condolences while others walked by as if the children were not there. Before them lay two closed caskets. Two small signs indicated that one held the body of Adinah Carnahan and the other held the body of Howard Carnahan.  Evelyn could not stand to go up to pay her final respects; could not stand to let her parents go. Her brother stayed by her side to offer her company as well as to stay away from the caskets himself.

"Jonathan," she finally ventured to say.

"Yes, Evie?" he asked, his voice laced with sadness.

"How... how did they die" she asked. She had never had the courage to listen before, throwing tantrums too loud for anyone to hear over whenever someone attempted to tell her before. But now, when faced with the reality of their deaths at their funeral, she needed to know.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Jonathan asked.

Evelyn nodded. "I have to."


Marion ([email protected]) September 6, 2002
Rick watched Evelyn's face closely, observing the emotions and inner turmoil flit across her face in mysterious shadows of self-doubt. He wished that he could do something for her, something to ease the pain she was going through. But he couldn't, she needed to get through this by herself right now. Her mind needed to accept the change, accept the grief, and most of all accept the truth, however hard and improbable it may be.

I have to. The words were still clear in her head. Evelyn could remember the feeling that had coursed through her body when Jonathan had told her the truth. Now she bit her lower lip as she prepared herself for what was to come. "They were murdered Rick. Slain in their sleep by their digging partner Alan Skarzinski. He fled the crime scene and hasn't been seen since. It was horrible, the press were constantly surrounding us, taking their black and white photos of the 'devastated Carnahan children'". She said the last with a bit of a sarcastic air about it.

Rick hesitated. He had not known that her parents had been murdered. He was still curious, however on exactly how they had been killed, but he wasn't sure if he should ask.
Oh well, what the hell? It will be now or later either way. He reasoned with himself. "Evelyn honey, how exactly were they killed?"

"Hmm? What did you say Rick?" She had been daydreaming again.

"Exactly how were they killed?"

Her eyes lowered and for a moment Rick thought she would burst into the tears she was so prone to as of late. But she did not. Instead she tilted her head towards him, her eyes dark and serious, her red lips twitching slightly. "Well, it's not exactly an exquisite tale." Her eyebrows rose.

"Evie, it's a murder, I didn't quite expect it to be beautiful." He said, his insides laughing as he found humor in her naivetes. He did not smile though because he did not think the occasion warranted it. If he had learned no other thing from his marriage to Evelyn than this he was well off; he had learned how to be serious when the circumstance asked for it, and now was one of those times. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, go on."

Her eyes sparkled as she began to speak, her English and German accents mingling together to form a beautiful mercury-like language. "Alan, a very good friend of my parents, was on the dig in Luxor with them. They were working together to uncover a tomb of some sort. I don't remember exactly what it was they were looking for because I was only seven at the time, but I do know that it had to be of some great importance or else they would not have been there all together.

"The night, according to the natives who happened upon their bodies, was an extremely cold one. The natives had been in search of what we now know to be the Med-Jai, because they had lost their way and needed warmth and guidance. This was how they came to find my mother and father, they saw the glow of a cooking fire in the distance, immediately rushing towards it.  Inside they found something they had never wanted to or dreamed of seeing, my parents. They had been crudely wrapped in cut up barley sacks, their blood staining through the coarse material. The natives had reported the scene as soon as they could, but meanwhile they took refuge from the cold of the desert inside my parent's tent by the fire. It was then that they noticed six glass jars, bloodied. Reporters later found these to be the brains, tongues, and hearts of my parents. Rick he mummified them! His motive was that they were too close to the truth, to his truth, to his treasure! They were alive when he did it too because according to the natives the bodies were still warm, and had not turned blue with exposure yet when they arrived. My father's hands were still bound inside the sack, and my mother had tearstains on her face.

"There had been a note left behind though, a note which my father managed to scribble with his hands tied behind his back. This piece of evidence was probably the oddest part of the entire crime. In his handwriting was written:
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