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SHEA AND PETE PULLED TO A STOP in front of Edna’s house.

“This is it,” Shea stated.

Marnie had invited her there, and Shea was going to take her up on it.

“I’ll just sit here,” Pete said, his arm held secure in the sling. He was sore—that much was obvious—but he’d also been quietly insistent that he accompany her.

“Okay. But if someone throws a brick at the windshield, be sure to duck.” Shea did a double take. “What?”

There was a look on Pete’s face, but it wasn’t appreciation of her dry humor, and she didn’t understand it. He gave her a quick smile. “Nothing.”

She searched his face for a second and then, “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Within moments Shea had knocked on the door, and Edna greeted her with a warm welcome.

“Oh, I thought you’d never come back to see me after that ridiculous windshield incident.” Edna looked over her shoulder. “I see you brought someone with you to watch the car. Good girl.” She lifted a frail, age-dotted hand in a wave to Pete, who returned the gesture.

“What can I do for you?” Edna led the way into her living room and motioned for Shea to sit down.

Shea decided to waste no time sharing her latest theory. “Well, I’ve been researching Annabel’s story—”

“Yes, I know.” Edna’s smile stretched across her powdery soft face.

“Yes, and I came across the name Rebecca.”

Edna’s smile waned.

Shea didn’t let that deter her. “I know that Jonathan Marks had been digging into her story, but I haven’t a clue where to start. Do you know who this Rebecca was?”

Edna slowly shook her head, her permed curls holding in place. “Nooooo...” She dragged out the word as if trying to remember, but Shea could tell the woman was lying.

“How about Annabel’s husband?” Shea tried the whiplash technique of changing directions quickly.

“She was married, yes,” Edna responded as if by instinct. Then a slight frown creased her forehead.

“And her husband’s name?” Shea pressed.

“That’s up for debate.” Edna’s tone grew cheerier again, as if she were returning to more comfortable ground. “Annabel was married, but it’s all a big question as to who her husband was. You see, the story goes that when she died, her husband—”

“Watched from the shore,” Shea finished. “Yes. Yes, I’m aware of that. I’m trying to piece together whatever it was that Jonathan Marks pieced together. Wouldn’t Annabel’s marriage be public record?”

“In 1852? Back then this place was wilder than the Wild West, my dear. There were no public records. And as for Jonathan...” A slight hardness entered Edna’s eyes. “Shea, you need to be careful you follow in his footsteps. Annabel remained quiet over the years. Stories and legends were what we lived on, until Jonathan decided to dig into the past. It’s not a good thing to awaken a spirit.”

“Why?” Shea leaned forward in earnest. “What is it about a woman’s long-ago drowning in Lake Superior that would still affect so many people here, today, in the twenty-first century?”

Edna tightened her lips.

Shea saw the elderly woman warring with herself. She latched onto the woman’s moment of weakness. “Please, Edna, tell me.”

“Greed.” Edna’s one word seemed to suck the air from the living room. She had grown serious, and her voice had a tremor now. Shea couldn’t tell if that was because of Edna’s advanced age or because she was nervous. “Greed,” she repeated. “That’s the root of it. It’s the root of most of mankind’s problems.”

Shea waited, praying Edna would continue.

She did. Only this time she fixed her eyes on the lamp on the end table near Shea and allowed herself to go deep into her thoughts.

“Back in the days of Annabel, the European settlers were mostly trappers, with some being miners. As time went on, silver was discovered in the area we know today as Silvertown. A man named Hilliard was the one responsible for most of Silvertown’s growth. The town began to boom and showed great potential. The proof of that was the building of the stamp mill. Hilliard used the promise of wealth to garner the financial capital to keep Silvertown growing. He had investors lined up from here to Philadelphia, but he desperately needed more to realize his grand plan. Two things then happened that set in motion what is still in motion today. That’s where your Rebecca comes in—and more than likely why Jonathan drove himself mad and committed suicide.”

Shea noted Edna’s belief in Jonathan Marks’s suicide over murder. She would circle back to asking about that later. She gave Edna her full attention. “And the two things are...?”

Edna lifted a finger. “One. The stamp mill burned down. Hilliard claimed it was arson. History records it was accidental, that a witness came forward saying there was a fire started in a coal stove that got out of control. Either way, it was a significant loss. It would mean an even bigger loss for Hilliard if his investors started pulling out as a result. How do you maintain the financial backing for a major project in the mining industry if those of means get cold feet? Even so, Hilliard might have recovered had it not been for his daughter.”

“Rebecca.” Shea filled in one piece of the puzzle.

Edna nodded as she lifted a second finger. Her reluctance to continue seemed to be behind her now. “Two. Rebecca. Hilliard claimed his daughter was behind the stamp mill’s destruction. He also claimed that Rebecca had stolen some important documents from him—documents that would guarantee him the investors he needed. Among these stolen papers was a map that showed a very rich, very abundant deposit of silver ore deep in the wilderness somewhere. A deposit that wouldn’t be exhausted for decades and would promise great wealth and economic opportunity. But without the map, well, you know how many thousands of acres of wilderness there are around here?”

Shea repositioned herself on the edge of her seat. “And how does all that affect things here today? Why don’t people like to talk about Rebecca?”

Edna, not at all in a hurry, reached for a glass of water sitting on the small table near her and took a few sips.

Shea told herself to keep calm. She suddenly wished Pete were here to lay a hand on her knee, so she’d stop bouncing it due to nervousness.

Edna coughed, wiped the sides of her mouth with a handkerchief she pulled from her shirtsleeve, and continued. “The map was never found.”

Shea’s knee stilled.

Edna paused as if to add a bit of dramatic impact. “That’s what drove Jonathan Marks crazy. Trying to find out where Rebecca Hilliard stashed the map that showed the location of the silver ore deposit.”

Shea frowned. “Couldn’t Hilliard have had another map drawn up? He had to know where this supposed vein of silver was.”

Edna nodded. “Perhaps. But while the map might’ve been the reason Jonathan Marks went haywire because he was on a treasure hunt, back in Hilliard’s time I think it was less about the map and more about the other papers that had Hilliard in such a tizzy. Silvertown went bust shortly after the stamp mill burned. Hilliard lost all his investors. He lost ... everything.”

“What happened to his daughter, Rebecca?”

Edna shook her head. “She disappeared into the annals of history. But she was blamed for the economic downfall of Silvertown. She essentially made off with its future and it turned into a ghost town. Jonathan thought he’d figured out some tie between Rebecca and Annabel’s ghost and the map. Some big reveal , but then he just gave up. He killed himself.”

Shea considered Edna’s words. “Jonathan found out something he’d been passionately pursuing, but instead of revealing it, he decided to end his life?”

Edna nodded. She rubbed the end of her nose with her handkerchief. “Poor Jonathan. He was ... such a damaged soul.”

Jonathan’s death made less sense now than ever to Shea. Who killed themselves when they were supposedly on the cusp of their greatest find? She bid Edna goodbye and made her way back to Pete and the truck. Once she slipped into the driver’s side, Pete waited for her to speak.

Shea twisted in her seat to face him. “If I were to tell you I had super big news, would you expect me to kill myself?”

“You ask the weirdest questions,” Pete retorted.

“Well?” she persisted.

“No. I’d expect you to come out with it and tell me.”

Shea could tell Pete was waiting for the repeat of her conversation with Edna. Instead, she leveled a direct look on him and said, “Jonathan Marks was murdered. I’d bet my book on it.”