Whoever or whatever walked the tower had no right to be there, and McNair intended to tell him so. Obviously a ghostly character wouldn’t be mentioned in his next report. But apprehending a trespasser might be appropriate.
Upon reaching the lighthouse, he considered walking softly or stomping up the steps. Ah, he’d tread quietly to catch the man. But there was only one way down, no matter how McNair ascended.
Each winding set brought him and Whaley closer to the top. The rapid beat of his heart had nothing to do with the climb. Whaley brushed against his legs behind him. Surely if the animal sensed George was at the top, he’d bark.
As if the dog had read his mind, he bounded past McNair and on to the top. Whaley’s deep-throated growl echoed in the tower. The ferocious dog could hold the man down while McNair secured rope to tie him… and demand an explanation before hauling him to Mayor Adams. As a hero, McNair would insist Wilda Adams apologize to Lynette.
McNair hurried after Whaley. Caution seized him. Had he given any thought to how he’d defend himself against a hostile intruder? What a fool. The man could use McNair’s rifle against him.
Did guidelines exist on how to overcome an apparition?
The light from the lenses lit the doorway. McNair clung to the wall then peered around the opening. Whaley stood near the entrance to the outside walkway where the man had appeared. The animal no longer growled. Simply paced.
Where had the intruder gone? McNair had seen him holding a lantern and gazing out to the sea. He walked to the spot where the man had stood. Diving into the water below invited a sure death. Yet how had the man vanished?
He inhaled….Nothing but the sea air filled his nostrils. His eyes had not deceived him—a man had stood here.
Bewilderment stomped across McNair’s mind. If Lynette hadn’t detected a splash, then indeed, the two had seen an apparition.
Chapter 8
Lynette held her breath while she waited for Mr. Hattchery to report on who was at the top of the lighthouse.
Oh, Lord, keep him safe.
The sound of Mr. Hattchery’s footsteps, the rhythm she’d come to recognize, graced her ears. A few moments later, he leaned against the door frame. The lantern from inside the cottage touched upon his features, and they were pale.
“What did you find?” she said.
“Nothing.” He met her gaze. “Did you hear someone dive?”
“No, sir.”
“What are you two talking about?” Mrs. Creed said. “Surely you haven’t seen the apparition.”
“Mrs. Creed, I can’t believe it myself.” Mr. Hattchery straightened. “Miss Brittmore and I saw a man at the top of the tower with a lantern. When I investigated, he was gone.”
Mrs. Creed lay her needlework in the basket at her feet. “We shall discuss this rationally, for those on the mainland will declare us daft or claim the island is of the devil.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I have never believed in such nonsense, and I will get to the end of the matter.” He paced the cottage floor. “All those involved need the matter finished.” He nodded at Lynette. “You, Miss Brittmore, deserve answers to your family’s untimely deaths.”
“I agree,” she said, her whole body feeling the warmth of his friendship. “It has become my life’s quest. But how?”
“Prayer,” Mrs. Creed said. “I shall be the white-haired warrior to accomplish it.”
Lynette studied the two good people coming to her aid. She’d done nothing to deserve their kindness, and yet they were reacting as though the problem was their own. “I’ve been seeking God on the matter since their disappearance, since I first saw the figure.”
“In the same place?” he said.
“Once near the shore by the clump of trees. Other times along the rocky shore. But always at night.”
McNair grabbed a chair. “If we are to conspire against this thing, then we must have rules. You two handle the prayer, and I will force the man’s hand.”
“How can you?” Lynette said, her ire rising that she’d be isolated from the task.
“By keeping a continuous vigil day and night. I don’t require much sleep.”
“Mr. Hattchery,” Lynette began, “I insist upon helping. I vowed long before you set foot on this island to learn the truth.”
“Prayer only or I will use force.”
She laughed at how ludicrous he sounded. “How so? Tie me up? Who will cook for you? Wash your clothes? Maybe you need to find an apparition to take care of those things.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “You need me, sir. But I don’t need you.”
His face reddened, and immediately she regretted her harsh words. But not enough to apologize.
“You have no idea how difficult I can be,” Lynette said.
“I’m learning.”
Mrs. Creed stood. “I believe the two of you have met your match. Both of you are stubborn as mules.”
Lynette reached for her shawl. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Not without me.” He clenched his fist. “I have things to say, and you will listen.”
“I won’t be talking to you.”
“For once, I’m a blessed man.”
McNair had been furious a few times with his six sisters, and he’d always known how to manage them by making them think his bidding was their idea. But Lynette Brittmore tested his patience.
“Since your apology has been chained and the key tossed into the sea, I shall do it for you.” He laughed to keep the anger from his voice. “I’d like to get formalities out of the way so we can discuss George Zimmerman. ‘Mr. Hattchery, I do apologize for my rudeness. I know you have my best interests at heart.’ ” He stole a glance, but she paid him no mind. “Thank you, Miss Brittmore. Your apology is accepted.”
Still she said nothing. What a strong-willed woman.
“Seriously. This fellow sounds like a dangerous man. If he is the same one, then we should inform Mayor Adams. In fact, I shall do that very thing.”
“No!”
“You are able to talk.” He smiled. Now he could add one more reason he remained a single man.
“You are infuriating.”
“And in this matter, I’m right.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I will be involved.”
He could work around this. “Very well. I’ll watch for him at night while I tend to the lighthouse. You can do the same during the day.”
“But he only appears at night.”
“Then you and Mrs. Creed will be safe while I sleep.”
“While you take the biggest risk.” They walked to the shore. “We should work out an amiable solution,” she said.
Finally the woman had reached her senses. “Excellent idea. And so far we have. I need to know everything you remember about George.”
She folded her hands at her waist.
“Everything, Miss Brittmore, beginning with his physical stature.”
She hesitated, no doubt seeking a rebuttal. “He’s medium height, sandycolored hair, and eyes so piercing blue that at times they looked black. I suppose his eyes should have been my first indication of his sinister mode. He’s pleasing to look at…until you get to know him.” She shuddered. “Hindsight is always better than foresight.”
“I’m sorry to put you through this misery, but I have to know what manner of man I may be encountering.”
“I understand. He always wears a crease in his brow. Peculiar for a younger man.”
“What else?”
“His voice is very deep, as though he has a perpetual cold threatening to snatch away his voice.” She sighed. “Everything must always be in order.”
“I see,” McNair said. “Then he’s been in the lighthouse more than once. I left a mug of tea on the railing, and the next morning it was empty and on the step. I thought the matter had slipped my mind.”
“When did this happen?”
“During the day while I slept,” he said. “I’ll leave something else out of place and trap hi
m.”
“No, I will. You must sleep during the day.”
He swallowed his sarcasm. “Promise me if you see him, you’ll wake me instantly.”
“Only if I can put a bullet in him.”
“Miss Brittmore, you surprise me.”
“Or push him over the tower.”
“Are you an executioner? Maybe I should fear crossing you.”
She laughed. “We’re even. And yes, I promise to seek your aid. If you’re willing to help me, then I will try my best to behave.”
McNair relaxed slightly. God should award him an extra jewel in his heavenly crown for dealing with this woman. “Anything else?”
“Thank you for believing me when no one else has. In the beginning, Uncle Jonathan thought George was a good man. I’m not sure what he thinks now. The gossip has turned away many of those I once called friend.” She paused. “I apologize for my earlier outburst.”
“You’re welcome.” How could one not trust her words? Her courage touched him more than he cared to admit.
They walked along the shore in silence…a comfortable companionship.
Another notion entered his mind. “If the lights ever go out in the lighthouse, I’ll seek your help,” he said.
“For what?”
“Why, Miss Brittmore. All I’d need to do is make you angry, for the fire in your eyes would light the way for miles.”
“I shall get even again, Mr. Hattchery.”
“I have no doubt.”
Chapter 9
Two weeks later, Lynette prepared a hearty meal for Uncle Jonathan and his wife. Uncle Jonathan had informed McNair of the visit earlier in the week, stating his wife was concerned about Mr. Hattchery’s welfare. That was a subtle warning for Lynette.
Knowing Uncle Jonathan’s wife, she wanted to make sure Lynette had not disposed of him and Mrs. Creed. The thought would be humorous except Lynette knew Jonathan’s wife wanted others to believe the worst about her.
Ever since she’d voiced her trepidations about George, Wilda Adams had been against her. At the funeral and twice when Lynette had rowed to the mainland for church, some of her parents’ friends had kept their distance.
Today Lynette would win back the woman with kindness and hopefully reestablish the fondness they’d once held for each other. Mrs. Creed’s influence had prompted charity and forgiveness instead of a sharp tongue. Beef stew simmered over the fireplace, biscuits would be baked just prior to their arrival, and a dried apple cobbler stayed warm on the hearth.
Now to figure out how to praise Uncle Jonathan’s wife. The woman had developed such a surly temperament. Lynette had vowed to be more like the Lord, and this was still her resolve. She dragged a wooden spoon through the thick stew. At one time, before George, Uncle Jonathan’s wife had been kind. Smiled more. Lynette and Amanda had adored her.
“I see the look on your face,” Mr. Hattchery said, startling her reverie. “Are we excited about our visitors?”
“Most certainly. I’ve prepared their favorite foods.” His stare felt most discerning. “What is bothering you, Mr. Hattchery?”
“Is there a way to mend this rift between you and Mrs. Adams? Or is that none of my business?”
Lynette glanced at Mrs. Creed, who appeared to be engrossed in her Bible, but Lynette doubted her ears were engaged in reading. “I plan to try.”
“Wilda is filled with silly notions,” Mrs. Creed said and closed her leather-bound Bible. “I nary believe a word of her gossip. Told her so, too.” She lifted her frail shoulders. “Of late, I’m the target of her rumors, too. Last I heard, she claimed my mind was slipping.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lynette said. “But I’m grateful for your friendship. Today will be interesting.”
“I doubt I’m one of her favorites either.” Mr. Hattchery positioned his hat. “I defended you when she warned me about you.”
Lynette lifted her shoulders and chased her sadness away. “Then I’ll save the apple cobbler for a celebration when she leaves.”
Mrs. Creed burst with a set of giggles as though she were a girl. “Why punish the good mayor?”
“True.” Lynette pitied Uncle Jonathan. “I’ll go back to my original resolve and kill her with kindness.”
“We need to swallow our pride, ladies, for our visitors have arrived.” Mr. Hattchery squinted, and Lynette followed his gaze.
Her laughter rang through the cottage. “She’s brought Mary Elizabeth Sanders, a woman sorely in need of a husband.”
“Does that mean she’s hard on the eyes?” Mr. Hattchery said.
“She’s kind and does much for the elderly,” Lynette said.
“Which means she’s plain,” he said.
“You two remind me of children.” Mrs. Creed rose to view the boat nearing the shore, but she didn’t hide her laughter.
He offered Lynette his arm. “Shall we greet our guests?”
“And find our manners.” How long had it been since Lynette had experienced a pleasant encounter with Uncle Jonathan’s wife? She had no reason to believe it would happen today.
McNair felt a peculiar sensation with Lynette’s arm tucked into his. Her nearness sent his pulse racing. Strange. Frightening, too. Rather than dwell on what was happening to him, he focused on Mayor Adams and the two female companions with him.
“Good day.” He nodded at the mayor and then his wife. “I see we have another guest. Whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting?”
Mayor Adams cleared his throat. “Miss Mary Elizabeth Sanders, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. McNair Hattchery.”
The woman held out her hand. Mercy, she was worse than plain. The woman’s nose resembled a pig. Perhaps an unfair assessment, but definitely true. She spoke a proper greeting.
“We thought you’d enjoy female companionship,” Wilda Adams said.
What was Lynette, one of the birds here? And Mrs. Creed? Already his mood had soured.
“I have food ready,” Lynette said with a smile he knew she didn’t mean.
“I’ve looked forward to this time for the past week,” Mayor Adams said. “Lynette, your cooking rivals anyone on the mainland.”
“Mary Elizabeth is a fine cook.” The mayor’s wife sent a glare to her husband that reminded McNair of daggers. “However, we’re not hungry, are we, Mary Elizabeth?”
“I adore Lynette’s meals,” the young woman said.
“Both of you shall partake,” Mayor Adams said.
During the meal, Wilda Adams spoke endlessly about the finer points of Miss Sanders.
“Mary Elizabeth is an excellent seamstress.”
“Mary Elizabeth plays the piano for our Sunday services. You must borrow Lynette’s boat and join us for a service.”
If he did choose to worship with them, he’d bring Lynette and Mrs. Creed.
“Mary Elizabeth also teaches school. The community is thrilled with our children’s progress.”
Was there anything Miss Sanders didn’t do well?
At the close of the warm apple cobbler, McNair hoped the visitors would choose to leave. He enjoyed Mayor Adams’s company, but his wife? He’d rather spend an hour adrift on the sea with sharks surrounding him. In fact, she and man-eating sharks had much in common.
Wilda Adams placed her napkin on the table. “Husband, I think it’s time you spoke to Lynette privately.”
Mayor Adams frowned. “I shall, and I’d like for Mr. Hattchery to join us.”
His wife stiffened. “Why?”
He scooted back his chair. “My business, Wilda.” He smiled. “I think it only appropriate for you and Miss Sanders to clean up from this fine meal while we’re discussing an important matter.”
“Miss Sanders is a guest,” his wife said.
“Right you are. Then let her converse with Mrs. Creed while you tidy up things.”
McNair did his best to conceal his mirth. Lynette coughed into her hand.
What did Mayor Adams need to discuss with Lynette?
Chapter
10
Lynette had no idea what Uncle Jonathan’s wife wanted from her, but it couldn’t be good. And why had Uncle Jonathan insisted upon Mr. Hattchery being present for the discussion?
Must be to save him from Mary Elizabeth’s enticing charms. She scolded her own thoughts. It wasn’t Mary Elizabeth’s fault that she was plain. The woman had an endearing soul, and the whole community benefited from her many talents.
“Let’s walk along the shore.” Uncle Jonathan rubbed his face. Perspiration streamed onto his collar, and the temperatures were moderate. Not a good sign.
When beyond hearing distance of the cottage, Lynette could wait no longer. “What do you need to speak to me about?”
Uncle Jonathan shook his head. “It’s not favorable news, my dear. I’d give anything not to be the bearer of this.”
“Rather from you than anyone else.”
His face softened. “Thank you, dear. I don’t understand my wife. Wilda wasn’t always this way.” He exhaled. “She’s instigated a rumor that has captured the attention of Constable Smythe.”
“I’m confused. Why would Constable Smythe be interested in my doings? Is he upset about your bringing us water and provisions?”
He cleared his throat, a peculiar habit when he formed his words. “She believes you were the cause of all the deaths.”
A chill raced up her arms. “Because of what George said to her?”
“And her fondness for his genteel ways.”
Out of respect, she’d not ask more about his wife and George.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Hattchery said. “What did George say to your wife?”
“Jealousy, sir. He insisted Lynette was distraught about his marriage to Amanda, and she planned to kill her family so the two could be together. He even said how and when.”
Lynette gasped. “I wasn’t aware. Now I see why she abhors me.”
“I know, dear one,” Uncle Jonathan said. “You are like my own daughter, one I never had. And I wanted to spare you the ugly rumors. George told Wilda you confided in him of a way to eliminate them on your birthday. You’d insist upon cooking a fine feast. Then poison them. You wanted George to place the bodies into the boat and puncture a hole before pushing it out to sea.”
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