Page 84 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse

“Shhh!” Holt’s breath against her ear silenced her. “You need to be quiet!” His hoarse whisper was frantic, not threatening. Shea remained stiff beneath his clutches, but she nodded until finally he removed his hand from her mouth.

The graves lay just ahead of them, their newly exposed faces staring up through the treetops to the moon that glowed above.

“What are you doing here?” Shea hissed.

Holt tugged on her, drawing her deeper into the woods. “Come with me.”

“No!” Shea pulled against him, extricating herself from his grip. “Tell me what’s going on!”

Holt looked in all directions. “Seriously, Shea, you need to trust me. We have to get out of here.”

“What about Pete?” she asked, her mouth set in a hard line. She knew it! Sheknewit! Holt had been behind Pete’s injuries.

Yet her suspicions were instantly challenged at the wave of concern that swept across Holt’s face in the moonlight. “Pete’shere? At the lighthouse?”

“Yes, where else would he be?” Shea snapped, crossing her arms.

“The hospital, I was hoping, or home.” Holt looked warily over his shoulder. “He’d be safer there. Like you would be.”

“What’s going on?” Shea demanded.

“Why did you come to the graves?” Holt growled, his accusation riddled with urgency. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone!”

“How could I?” Shea raised her voice, and Holt instantly shushed her. “After everything that has happened?” she whispered. “Even Pete wanted to see this through.”

“No onesees this through!” Holt snapped. “They never have!” He motioned for her to follow as he changed course to wind back around to the rear of the lighthouse.

Shea followed but with caution. “Where are we going?”

“To get Pete!” Holt ducked under a branch, then held it up for Shea to step under. “You two need to go home. I had no idea when you rented my lighthouse that you were going to be this persistent.”

Shea stopped in the middle of the woods, forcing Holt to face her in the night. The moon cast a blue glow across his handsome face that was now contorted with what Shea could only identify at fear. Outright fear.

“Did you hit Pete with the car?” She had to ask, even though the odds of Holt giving an honest answer were slim to none.

Holt reared back in shock. “What are you talking about? Of course not!”

“Then who did?” Shea demanded.

“How would I know?” Holt motioned to her. “Come on!”

“What are we sneaking around for?” Shea began following him again, though reluctantly. “Please tell me what’s happening.”

Holt twisted, his sigh squelched by not wanting to make noise. He took a few steps back toward her and lowered his face to hers. She could feel his breath on her skin.

“I should have just asked you to leave. I should have said the lighthouse was closed and terminated your stay.”

Shea rolled her eyes at him in the dark. “Well, if you wanted me gone, yes, that would make sense.”

“But...” Holt raked his hand through his hair. “At first I wanted you to write the book.”

“Because you wanted the publicity?” Shea asked.

Holt nodded sheepishly. “If the lighthouse was haunted, and you wrote about it, I’d never be shy of bookings ever again. So I crept around the lighthouse at night to make noises. I rigged your light to pop like a ghost killed it. I made corn syrup to look like blood and smeared it on the window.”

“That wasyou?” Shea couldn’t help but give him a look of sheer exasperation.

“Yes.” She could see the whites of Holt’s eyes in the night. “I’m not proud of it! But that’s what people tend to do after reading about a haunted lighthouse. They want to visit it.”