“Look, that was Diane’s thing. Something about it being symbolically perfect. She brainwashed those boys. Got them to forget their names. Got them to want to become a wendigo. Or to be sacrificed to one. Those idiots actually fought over who would become the next wendigo. Can you imagine?”
“But why? Why go that far?”
“Because she hated her life? Because she craves chaos? Because she loved keeping those boys under her thumb and wanted the drug money to start a new life? Hell, she might have even started believing in her own nonsense by the end. Take your pick. I don’t really know.”
Trying a new tactic, the district attorney asks, “How did the so-called wendigo tracks end up in Munising?”
“That was a stroke of brilliance, huh?” Her eyes light up as she warms to her storytelling role. “We needed another worker. And we needed to stir up the wendigo rumor to scare people away. So, we took one of the sets of costume feet and made indentions with them into the mud. Diane trashed her hotel room for fun and to distract the police,” she says while pointing at me.
“How long have you two been doing this?”
“Oh, about twenty years now.”
A hush falls over the courtroom.
The district attorney says, “Twenty years?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Do you have wax in your ears?”
Someone in the audience tries to cover their laughter with a cough. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t fool anyone.
“Why?” the attorney asks.
“It’s the family business. Why not?”
Are orange jumpsuits also the family uniform? I ponder. Because there is nothing flattering about them.
“How did you get away often enough to make it work?”
“At first, our shifts were only for two weeks each per season. But three years ago, Diane decided to go full-time. It was a stroke of luck when she legitimately crashed her boat. All she had to do was lie low for a while until everyone believed she was dead, including her husband.
“That’s when the wendigo thing started. I guess she wanted to make sure the superstitious fools in this town would never find her. Of course, she ruined that herself by reaching out to her son and her husband last year.”
The two women resume glaring at each other. This time, Sally’s eyes fill with murderous intent.
“How did she reconnect with her son?”
“Chad was treating Dustin like shit for being gay. I told her about it, and she asked me to bring him to her. He wasn’t too keen on leaving his boyfriend behind, but Diane gave me explicit instructions. Only Dustin could come.”
I feel Dustin stiffen next to me. He still blames his mom and dad for what happened to Terrell, and rightfully so. But he’s also taken on a lot of guilt for his decision to leave town without Terrell by his side.
“You said this started twenty years ago,” the district attorney says thoughtfully. “If my math is correct, wasn’t Mrs. Hambler only eighteen then?”
“Yup, just turned. And she was quite the looker, too. Made it nice and easy to convince the first few rounds of workers to go to the island willingly. The wendigo nonsense started several years later. And I knew it was going to screw everything up eventually,” Sally sneers in Diane’s direction.
“Do you know when Mr. Hambler found out about all of this?”
I sit up and try to tune out the antics of the courtroom’s ghosts. Oh, did I not mention that? There are two ghosts here, and they’re mocking everything that Sally says and does. It’s entertaining, but this is the answer I’ve been waiting weeks for.
“I think he was suspicious from the beginning. But eventually, yeah, he stopped investigating the disappearances too closely. Kept claiming they were runaways and drug addicts. I don’t think he wanted to know the truth. Plus, he’s always been a bit incompetent.”
“When was the first time Mr. Hambler went to the mine?”
“As far as I know, his first visit was the same one you know about.”
The overly packed crowd releases a sigh of relief. Chad might have a reputation for womanizing – which I now realize means he was most likely cheating on his wife long before she disappeared – but no one wants to believe he is capable of being directly involved in any of this. But is that wishful thinking or the truth?
“But surely, with his son on the island?” the district attorney prods her.
“Nah. See, he didn’t know his kid was there. Diane fixed that up good. She told him Dustin visited her, but that he’d already left. She also sent a few fake postcards to make it look like Dustin was taking a time out in Wisconsin. She got that idea from me,” Sally beams. “It wasn’t until she sent yet another postcard instructing him to come to Isle Royale that he figured everything out.”
“Why take the risk of involving him?” the district attorney asks.
“It was time to tie up the loose ends. This was supposed to be our last season,” Sally says mournfully. “We would have both disappeared with enough money to retire and buy a new identity. Damn you, Alex!” she shouts at me from the witness stand. “You ruined everything!”
Dustin can’t suppress a shocked exhalation. From what I understand, Diane had filled his head with so many stories that he believed everything would continue indefinitely. I imagine the knowledge of how much he was played is hitting him hard. There’s probably also a lot of guilt for buying into the idea that sacrificing his dad would have fueled them for years to come.
♦ ♦ ♦
I don’t want to testify about the ghosts, but I end up having no choice. There’s a lot of skepticism, of course. Normally, this wouldn’t surprise or even bother me. But in a town like this that knew about the missing teens and became lulled into inaction because of the wendigo legend? I’m a bit insulted they thought wendigos might be real but are now having such a hard time believing the truth about ghosts.
As I testify, I remember Mabel the librarian’s words. They really were all complicit because they chose to close their eyes to something that should have raised red flags.
As everyone will soon know, some of them were being paid off, some thought the teens had just run away, and a few really, truly believed wendigos – sorry, wendigoag - were stalking the streets. If I believed that, I guess I wouldn’t want to go poking my nose too far into something like this, either. Instead of taking the risk of speaking out, everyone chose silence, superstitions, and greed. This collective decision killed dozens of teenage boys. It also killed Wayne.
Sally and Diane will be the only people who ultimately do any jail time. Chad took a plea deal – which means he’s no longer sheriff – even though his only real crime was not reporting it when he discovered his wife had faked her own death. Apparently, being terrible at your job isn’t a crime, so his failure to investigate the disappearances more closely isn’t going to become a legal matter. Besides which, he did earn lots of awards and commendations for successfully solving numerous cases that didn’t involve missing teenagers, so he wasn’t a complete bust as sheriff.
Every person sitting in this courtroom has some blood on their hands, though. I can’t help but wonder how many of them also helped support the illegal drug smuggling operation by smoking or snorting the results of each teen’s slave labor.
Chapter Twenty-Four
One Week Later
I’m glad this is all finally over. Todd is back with his family. Josh was able to put flowers on his mother’s grave. Dustin and Chad are working on their fractured relationship. I know neither of them will ever fully forgive Chad for how much he harassed Terrell, regardless of how justified Chad thought he was at the time. But at least they’re trying.
Leslie has her business back, and she’s busier than ever. It turns out that her massage studio being the last known residence of the ghost whose determination made everything possible is very profitable. It’s now a magnet for locals and tourists, and she seems happy.
The two villains of our story will never be able to hurt anyon
e again. The jury only deliberated for twenty minutes before returning a guilty verdict on every charge. They’ll spend the rest of their lives in prison. The National Park Service has taken steps to prevent this nightmare from ever being repeated. The mine has already been filled in, and there’s now security around the island all year.
As for me? Headlines around the globe have proclaimed me “a ghost therapist” and “a sleuth who sees dead people.” How original, right? The story about this case caught on like wildfire, and there’s even talk of it being turned into a movie. I wonder who will play me? More importantly, I wonder if that will finally turn into a big enough payday to cover my bills.
Chad and I are meeting at the bar in a few minutes to say goodbye. I’ve been sitting here soaking it all in. The wooden table and chair, the dank atmosphere, and the smell of stale beer. Music swirls around my head, and I can’t help but think about dancing with Wayne. I wipe a tear from my cheek just as Chad pulls the heavy door open.
I might be crazy, but I do believe he didn’t really know what was going on until that day at Isle Royale. I’ll never understand how he justified not placing more of an emphasis on each disappearance, but superstitions and fears run deep.
Speaking of which, papers throughout the U.P. have run a fascinating interview with one of Wayne’s students. In it, she describes the historical context of the wendigo legend but makes it clear no one on any of the U.P. reservations believe in such things anymore. It’s a relic of a time long gone. I hope the people of Munising can allow it to stay buried this time.
Chad and I embrace. “Thank you, Alex.”
“For what?”
“For stopping the madness,” he winks at me.
“Wait, what did you just say?”
“Mabel says goodbye.”
A warm, knowing smile takes me back to the first time the two of us sat in this bar. I know that becoming aware of ghosts makes it easier for people to see and hear them, so I decide not to ask any follow-up questions. Not on that topic, anyway.
“There is one more thing I really need to know. Why didn’t you do anything when you found out Diane was alive?”
He hesitates, then says, “Our marriage had fallen apart years before she faked her own death. She always had her secrets, and I wasn’t always faithful.” Shame and sorrow fill his face and he looks down, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.
“I figured if she wanted to restart her life that badly, why not let her? I had no idea what she was up to. I didn’t even know for sure she was on Isle Royale until a few weeks ago. I wish I had paid closer attention and gotten Diane some help before her secrets devoured her and those kids.”
I can tell the weight of Diane’s crimes, along with his inaction, will haunt Chad forever. There are many more things I could say. Instead, I grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor. We sway together one last time as I enjoy the smell of his cologne and the warmth of another human body. Chad isn’t the one, and I’m going to miss Wayne forever. But despite my past and the losses I’ve incurred solving this mystery, I’m clearly ready to love again.
Epilogue
It feels so good to be home. I walk past the massive pile of mail on the entry table and rush to my cat. Riley climbs all over me as I pet him and make embarrassing baby talk.
After he settles down enough to take a nap, I allow myself to sneak a glance at the mail. My cat sitter wasn’t kidding when she said I was going to need a bedroom just for mail. I guess being on the news is better than a business card.
One envelope in particular catches my attention. It’s oddly-shaped and is postmarked from Paris, France. Impressed and curious, I grab my letter opener and wrest the letter free from its temporary housing.
I feel the familiar tug as I read the typed words. At the bottom is something I never thought I’d see: “Enclosed is a voucher for airfare. Please come as soon as you can, Ms. Bentley. All expenses paid, plus $10,000 if you can help.”
All expenses paid? And ten-thousand dollars? I reach for my phone and send a text to my cat sitter.
“Sorry, buddy,” I say to the black cat’s sleeping form. “It looks like I’ll be leaving again in the morning.”
Alexa Bentley returns in Frightened in France: Alexa Bentley Paranormal Mysteries Book Two.
If you enjoyed Missing in Michigan, please post a review on Amazon and Goodreads, and be sure to share it with your book-loving friends!
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Missing in Michigan: Alexa Bentley Paranormal Mysteries Book One. I’ve written many characters in the past in a variety of genres and tones, but none have ever been as much of a joy to embody as Alexa (Alex) Bentley. I hope you’ve enjoyed spending time with her as much as I have.
Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is a very special place to me. I stayed at a cabin just outside of Munising on my honeymoon, and many of Alexa’s experiences were inspired by that wonderful week. For example, my spouse and I saw the Northern Lights there together for the first time on a chilly night in September. The restaurants Alexa visits were also inspired by the wonderful food we had there (especially breakfast!).
As far as I know, there are no ghosts haunting Munising, nor are there any dark secrets or mysteries to solve. But people really did mine Isle Royale six-thousand years ago. The wendigo legend also traces some of its roots to the Native Americans of the Upper Peninsula.
If you’re ever in Michigan, I highly recommend visiting the U.P. – and Detroit, of course. :)
Please post a review to Amazon and Goodreads if you enjoyed this book. Reviews and any other form of word-of-mouth (including social media postings) are an invaluable way of supporting your favorite indie authors. I am forever grateful to all of you who have supported my books in the past, and your continued support is greatly appreciated!
If you have any questions or feedback, please feel free to reach out to me via my website or social media. Thank you!
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Acknowledgements
Tina, Christina, Patty, and Anne – Thank you for being the first readers to meet Alexa Bentley. Your feedback was very helpful and greatly appreciated! You’re all awesome!
Anne – Thank you for your constant encouragement and support, and for listening to me talk nonstop about writing and books. Thanks also for always asking the tough questions and pointing out things I would have missed. Missing in Michigan is much better because of you, as are all of my other books.
Kristen – Thank you for helping to inspire Alexa Bentley’s profession and for providing valuable input on some of the book’s psychological themes.
Riley – My writing and editing buddy is the inspiration for Alexa’s cat, Riley. Thanks, Mister Man. Want to see the real-life Riley? Check out Instagram!
You – Thank you for reading this book!
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