Page 42 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse

Shea spent the next several minutes recounting the tale.

The officer took notes with the assistance of Holt’s flashlight. He leaned in toward the window and studied the blood on the glass, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s not blood. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not blood. Probably corn syrup.”

Pete shot Shea a glance. She looked away.

Officer Ford tilted his head toward the door. “Mind if we go in where I can have more light?”

“Sure.” Pete led the way, followed by the officer and then Holt and Shea.

“I thought for sure it was blood,” Holt muttered. “He didn’t even take a sample.”

“I’m guessing Ontonagon doesn’t have a CSI lab?” Shea whispered back.

Pete and Officer Ford glanced back at them as they entered the house. Once inside, they crammed around the kitchen table, where Officer Ford collected more details.

No, trespassers hadn’t been a common occurrence of late, Holt informed him.

No, he didn’t have any history of vandalism to the property.

Yes, they knew tourists were coming into the area to the Porkies to camp and hike.

Yes, it probably wasn’t unrealistic to assume they knew aboutthe ghost story and had creeped around the property for the adventure of it.

Officer Ford tapped the notepad with his pen. “That’s probably what it was. Someone from the big city wanting to play ghost hunter.”

“What about the blood? Why would someone smear blood on the window to scare the pants off me?” Shea asked.

Officer Ford looked her way. He shrugged. “Well, it’s not blood. It’s not paint either. I can take a sample if you want, and we can have it sent to a lab. It’ll take a few weeks—”

“Don’t bother.” Holt’s mouth thinned. “If you know for sure it’s not blood—”

“It’s not,” Officer Ford assured him.

“Then what’s the point?” Holt finished.

“Just trying to make you feel at ease, that’s all.” Officer Ford sucked in a breath and glanced around the room. “Been years since I’ve been in here.”

Shea furrowed her brow.

“Years?” Holt inquired.

“Yeah.” Officer Ford grimaced as though he probably shouldn’t have given voice to his thoughts. Now he seemed to feel obligated to explain. “I was here when Mr. Marks was found.”

“You were?” Shea’s attention was sparked.

Pete’s foot pressed down lightly on hers beneath the table. Why was he trying to squelch her curiosity? She pulled away and ignored him.

Officer Ford nodded. “Yeah. I was new to the force back then.”

“Do you believe it was suicide?” Shea’s question brought all three men’s eyes to her face. Shea flustered for a second. “I was just curious. I...”

“It was ruled a suicide.” Officer Ford’s expression was sincere. “No question in my mind.”

18

REBECCA