A Cook’s Cove Mystery, Book 2
He came looking for her, but she couldn’t hide.
Jenny thought she had rebuilt her life in Cook’s Cove. Her dream was shattered when Shaun let her down, leaving her vulnerable to the evil that preys on the broken hearted. In a moment of weakness, she drops her guard, and the outcome almost kills her.
Full of grief and guilt, Shaun swears he would stare down the devil if that was what it took to help Jenny. He didn’t realize at the time that was exactly what was required.
Sample
Through her half-asleep dream state, Jenny Carrington listened as the voice in the next room sang a lullaby she’d heard often as a child. It’s reassuring to know that the remodeling of the house had not chased away the ghost of Susan.
Cuddling her pillow, she drifted deeper into sleep. As her dream unfolded, Jenny recalled she still had keys on Susan’s key ring and no idea what they fit. The key to the safe deposit box had revealed the truth about who she was. What would the other keys reveal?
Determined to find out, she drove to the building that held many pieces of old furniture left over from the antique shop.
Unlocking the door, she entered the dark, musty brick building. Turning on the flashlight she’d brought, Jenny held it in front until her eyes adjusted. Throwing the beam around, she searched. The light switch had to be near the door; it was a metal box with wires running up the wall. Once she located it, the overhead fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered as they came to life, highlighting a dull gray film of dust covering the rows of desks, chests, and buffets. This was the only storage area she had not explored after Susan’s death.
Going from one piece of furniture to the next, she inserted the key, hoping to find its mate. She’s always amazed that these pieces once adorned someone’s home. What dramas had they witnessed? What remnants of memories sat gathered in the corners of crumbling wood dust, decaying? She planned to scrub and sand the past from them and add a fresh coat of pastel paint so their new owners could lay snippets of their lives on the surface.
After trying every lock with no luck, she sat on top of a six-foot-long chest to rest. One of those ugly, rounded chests from the 1940s or 50s with laminated wood grain. A piece someone must have used to store blankets at the foot of a bed or maybe as a hope chest. It would need to go to the dump because even painting the object wouldn’t make it attractive to a buyer in her shop.
“Well, this is the only one I haven’t tried.” She climbed off, then bent over to examine the piece. Running her hand over it, she found the small engraved brass plate in the middle. Inserting the key in the hole, she twisted and heard the click. Curling her fingers, she grabbed the edge and pulled. It resisted at first, then opened, creating an eerie sound, like a deep inhale.
A nauseating smell seeped out, filling her nostrils and causing her stomach to lurch. Perhaps a rat made its way to the bottom. Inside sat a wad of plastic packing material. She pulled out the crumpled material, setting it on the floor, expecting to find dishes or old linens in the box. Instead, she found more plastic covering a large, oblong object.
Jenny retrieved a pocketknife from her purse and poked the blade into the transparent film, making a hole. Slowly peeling the layers, a white cotton fabric with embroidery, some lace decaying in spots, and small white buttons on the bodice appeared—probably a dress or a nightgown. Curious, she cut a long horizontal slice along the garment covering. As she continued folding back the plastic, a chill ran up her spine. She gasped, dropping the knife.
Underneath was a skull with fragments of curly red hair stuck to it. Frightened, she slammed the chest shut and moved away, only to bump into the tall cabinet behind her with a bang. Shaking, she pulled out her cell phone and punched the number for Susan. The phone rang and rang. No one picked up.
