A Grave Mistake

by Leighann Dobbs

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epitaph

  Author's Note

  About The Author

  Excerpt From Ghostly Paws

  This is a work of fiction.

  None of it is real. All names, places, and events are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places, or events are purely coincidental, and should not be construed as being real.

  A Grave Mistake

  Copyright © 2015

  Leighann Dobbs

  http://www.leighanndobbs.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner, except as allowable under “fair use,” without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover art by: http://www.coverkicks.com

  Chapter One

  This wasn't the first dead body Morgan Blackmoore had seen, nor was it the most gruesome, but for some reason this body struck ice-cold fear into her heart like none of the others.

  It wasn’t the look of terror frozen on the guy’s face, or the giant burn mark on his chest indicating he was probably a victim of some kind of paranormal assassin that had her so frightened.

  It was the map clutched in his fisted hand … a map that looked eerily similar to one Morgan and her sisters had received in a mysterious letter from their Aunt Eliza.

  Morgan bent at the waist, her sleek, long black hair dangling in front of her as she strained to get a closer look.

  Was it the same map?

  It looked like it, but she didn’t have the photographic memory her sister Jolene did, so she did the next best thing. She slipped the cell phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture.

  As she leaned in, something gooey squished under her boot. Picking her foot up, she recognized it as one of the cone-shaped, black licorice candies they sold in the corner store—a Black Crow.

  “Hey, Morgan. Do you mind?” Brody Hunter pulled her attention from the smooshed candy and she straightened to see him standing behind her in his Noquitt police uniform, holding up a section of yellow crime scene tape so that it was high enough for someone to duck underneath. He jerked his head toward the area outside the tape, indicating for her to leave. She took one more quick photo, then slipped under the tape.

  “Thanks.” She tweaked his cheek and smiled as he blushed. She’d known Brody most of her life. They'd both grown up in Noquitt and, since he was the younger brother of Morgan's high school boyfriend, she thought of him like family.

  Her smile faded as she walked away, glancing down at the photo of the map on her phone. She snugged her black pea coat around her middle to ward off the cool November air but it did little to stop the chill that crept from her spine and encircled her heart.

  She glanced back one more time, wondering who, exactly, the body was. She knew that the possession of the map indicated they must have come to her seaside town of Noquitt, Maine, for a specific reason. A specific reason that had gotten them killed.

  What she didn’t know was if the dead person was friend or foe … or if the killer was still hanging around town.

  Morgan picked up the pace, her breath coming out in small puffs of condensation, her boots making tracks in the light dusting of snow on the ground, as she hurried to her truck.

  She wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but if her theory about the map was correct, things in her little town were about to heat up dramatically despite the late fall New England weather.

  She hopped in the truck, turned the engine over and put the truck in gear. She didn’t let it warm up—she needed to get back home with her discovery and warn her sisters.

  On the way out of town, the reflection of flashing blue and red lights in her mirror caught her eye. Glancing behind her, she saw them load the body into an ambulance. Her stomach clenched. She had a feeling that might not be the last death this town would see before the year was out.

  ***

  Celeste Blackmoore brushed a light dusting of snow off the bench at the edge of the cove. Shoving red leather gloves into her pocket, she sat down and pulled the lobster grilled cheese from its bag, watching a wisp of steam rise in the air.

  Settling back on the bench, she closed her eyes and bit into the warm sandwich. It was a favorite of hers and one that she'd only been able to find at Foot Bridge Lobster, a small lobster shack situated in Perkins Cove, which was a short walk from her home.

  The sandwich had the perfect combination of taste and texture. Grilled bread gave it a buttery crunch, the cheese added creamy tang and the large lobster claw situated in the middle supplied the perfect amount of sweetness.

  Celeste sighed as she settled back on the bench to savor the sandwich. Although it was less than forty degrees out, she didn't mind. Celeste found the cooler weather invigorating and she loved her seaside town even more in the off-season, when it wasn't crowded with tourists.

  She chewed happily, looking out over the quaint fishermen's cove. The light dusting of snow would be gone by noon, but right now, it gave the place a holiday feel, amplifying the charm of the old lobster boats moored in the cove.

  But not all the boats had charm. Especially not the big, black ship moored in the middle that stuck out like a sore thumb. Celeste stared at the ship, the sandwich paused halfway to her mouth.

  When did that get here?

  A feeling of uneasiness bloomed in her chest. Noquitt was a popular tourist destination in summer and sometimes people rented mooring space to stay in the cove on their boats, but no one ever did that in winter.

  Yet, here was this big, black boat and obviously someone was staying on it. She watched as a figure appeared on the deck. It was two people, actually, one dressed in a Nordic parka and pushing a tiny, white-haired woman bundled in a light-blue blanket in a wheelchair.

  Celeste watched as the woman turned her face toward the sun. She looked frail, sickly. The woman reminded Celeste of her mother, who had been held captive by a maniac for the past seven years and drained of almost all her health. Thankfully, her mother was recovering, but Celeste couldn't help but wonder about the woman she was looking at now. Had she suffered a similar fate?

  Finishing the rest of her sandwich, Celeste watched as the woman was wheeled back inside and the door to the cabin shut, blocking any view she might have had of what was going on inside. Maybe the woman was just here convalescing and recovering?

  Celeste brushed the crumbs from her hand, chastising herself for being so suspicious. She never used to be that way, but the past two years had been crazy for her and her sisters, who'd discovered they'd had special paranormal gifts and then come under attack because of them. She'd learned to pay attention to anything out of the ordinary.

  She stood, and with a glance backward at the boat, started for the large house she and her sisters shared with their mother at the mouth of the entrance to the cove. There was no reason to be suspicious of a new boat in the cove, but she'd keep it in the back of her mind. As Celeste had so recently found, it was better to be
safe than sorry.

  Chapter Two

  The Blackmoore house had been in Morgan’s family for centuries. Built three hundred years earlier by Morgan’s ancestor Isaiah Blackmoore, it sat on a piece of land with the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the channel to Perkins Cove on the other. The house, now more of a mansion, had started off as a small home and been added to and modernized with each passing generation.

  Morgan pulled to a stop in the driveway and followed the smell of eggs and bacon into the spacious kitchen, her jaw dropping when she saw a tall, dark and handsome guy at the stove cooking the breakfast.

  “Mateo! What are you doing here?” Morgan’s eyes drifted from Mateo’s velvety brown ones to her mother, Johanna’s, amber ones.

  Johanna shrugged. “He came to visit.”

  “Bet you didn’t know I could cook,” Mateo said, turning his broad shoulders back to the stove. Morgan hadn’t known that cooking was one of his talents and her lips curled as she wondered how her youngest sister, Jolene, would react when she found out who was preparing breakfast.

  Mateo had been somewhat of a mystery man, appearing out of nowhere on several occasions to rescue the sisters during the past year. Unbeknownst to them, he had actually been working for a secret agency and was tasked to watch over them. Morgan didn’t think he minded that task, especially when it included her sister, Jolene. She’d seen the way the two of them looked at each other and, even if neither of them wanted to admit it, there were sparks there.

  Recently, they’d discovered Mateo had been on an assignment inside the underground laboratory of Dr. Mortimer Bly, a rogue paranormal who had held her mother prisoner for seven years trying to drain her powers. Johanna and Mateo had developed a strong friendship and he’d been instrumental in rescuing her.

  That probably explained why he’d just popped in unannounced to cook breakfast … or maybe he wanted an excuse to see Jolene.

  “Is something wrong?” Johanna asked.

  Morgan had been so surprised to see Mateo, she’d almost forgotten about the body with the map. Almost.

  She held up the phone. “I think the relic we’ve been searching for might be a little closer to home than we originally thought.”

  Mateo spun around. “Really?”

  Morgan nodded and showed them the picture.

  “That looks like the map Eliza sent.” Johanna’s lips pursed into a thin line and Morgan worried that her mother wasn’t strong enough yet to deal with something like this.

  When the sisters had received the mysterious letter in the mail, they’d tried to keep the map from their mother. But Johanna had been adamant about being included in the task of searching for the ancient relics that Dr. Bly was trying to uncover for his own evil purposes.

  According to what they’d been told, these relics had been infused with paranormal powers by energy masters centuries earlier and anyone who possessed them would be able to use the power for their own gain. Morgan’s aunt Eliza had sent them a map which they’d assumed was a clue to one of the relics. Too bad she hadn’t indicated where, exactly, the map pointed to. Morgan and her sisters had assumed it was someplace ancient … like Egypt or near the Mayan ruins. But now that someone had shown up in town with the map, that seemed to indicate they were looking for the relic here in Noquitt.

  Morgan studied her mother, who sat in her wheelchair, head bent studying the map. For seven years, she’d thought her mother was dead. They'd been led to believe Johanna had jumped into the sea from the cliffs behind their home. It was a miracle to have her here now. And she was getting stronger every day.

  When they’d first rescued her, she’d been unable to walk, her skin had been as wrinkled and brittle as someone almost three times her mother’s age. Her long hair had been a dank gray—almost devoid of color.

  Now, Johanna’s hair showed streaks of its normal jet black, her skin was smooth and she could manage to get out of the wheelchair and into a chair and bed on her own.

  Johanna’s mind was as sharp as ever and in the few short months she’d been back, it had become obvious to Morgan that her mother was the leader of the group. She could handle this.

  “Yes, I thought so, too,” Morgan said.

  “Where did you get this?” Mateo held the greasy spatula up as he leaned over the phone.

  “I was at the Village Food Market downtown picking up a few things when I noticed flashing blue lights on Beach Street. Normally, I don’t pay attention to police business, but my gut instincts told me to investigate.” Over the past year, Morgan had learned that her gut instincts were a special gift and she always paid attention to them.

  “Someone was killed and they had the map?” Johanna asked.

  Morgan nodded. “It looked like they were burned. Probably with paranormal energy, but I’m sure the police will explain it as something else.”

  “Too bad you didn’t snag the map,” Mateo said.

  “Brody kicked me out. I was hoping the picture was enough.”

  “We should print it out and compare it to the one from Eliza. Email it to me.” Morgan did as instructed while Johanna wheeled her chair around and headed for the sitting room next to the kitchen where they kept a printer and laptop.

  “What’s burning?” Jolene appeared in the doorway, her brown hair tussled like she'd gotten out of bed without bothering to straighten it. Which she probably had. Her light blue eyes grew wide as she noticed Mateo who had turned his attention back to the stove in order to rescue the bacon from being burnt to a crisp. “Uh-oh, this can’t be good.” Her brows crept up as she glanced at Morgan for confirmation.

  “Well, I don’t know if Mateo cooking breakfast is good or not, but I did make a discovery downtown that isn’t so good.”

  “Oh?”

  “She found a map,” Mateo said, his back still turned.

  “And you think it has something to do with Eliza’s map?”

  “It looks pretty similar.”

  “Let’s see.” Jolene held out her hand and Morgan handed the phone over.

  Jolene squinted, then used her finger and thumb to enlarge the picture.

  “It is the same, but it looks like there’s an additional part to this one,” she said with certainty. Morgan believed that certainty. Jolene had a photographic memory and if she said it was the same as the other map, you could take that to the bank. “Let me go get the one Eliza sent us.”

  “So what does this all mean?” Johanna wheeled over with the printout of the map and put it on the shiny, granite surface of the kitchen island.

  Morgan looked down, tilting her head sideways to see it from a different angle. It wasn’t the full map—part of it was inside the dead guy’s curled fingers. “I’m not sure, but if someone was here with the map then that seems to indicate they were looking for something right here in Noquitt.”

  Jolene returned with the other map, laying it on the island next to the printout. “So, the relic Eliza was trying to lead us to could have been here under our noses the whole time?”

  “Maybe.”

  Morgan looked at the two maps. They were almost the same. But she didn’t recognize it as anyplace in Noquitt. She was studying it so intently that she didn’t hear someone enter the kitchen.

  “Hey, who cooked breakfast—“

  Celeste stood in the doorway, staring from the platters of food Mateo was placing on the kitchen island to Mateo, then to Jolene.

  Her eyes slid back to Mateo. “Hi. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I just dropped in to see how Johanna was doing.”

  “Uh-huh.” Celeste took a piece of bacon off the pile and nibbled on the end. “Did someone say something was right under our noses?”

  “Yes, I found—” Morgan started, then stopped. They were missing one sister and she didn’t want to have to tell the story all over again when Fiona showed up. “Where’s Fiona?”

  “Outside, practicing her shotgun rocks.” Johanna jerked her head toward the big kitchen window and Morgan looked
out to see her sister standing just outside, her right hand clenched in front of her in a tight fist. Fiona’s back was to them. A lavender, knit scarf warmed her neck and kept her red hair tucked into the back of her tan, shearling jacket. Beyond her, the Atlantic Ocean sparkled in the morning sunlight.

  Two years ago, the sisters had been attacked by paranormal bad guys who had been after a treasure Isaiah Blackmoore had hidden in caves beneath the house. That’s how they’d discovered they’d actually had paranormal abilities themselves. Since then, there had been more attacks and the sisters had decided to hone their skills so they could be more effective in defending themselves.

  Fiona had a way with crystals and Morgan knew Fiona hoped to develop a skill where she could transfer energy to the small stones and then throw them as weapons, causing them to scatter like shotgun shells which would pepper the enemy senseless.

  Morgan held her breath as she watched Fiona raise her fist. Then she flung her hand out, her breath visible in the cold air as her fingers flew open and the stones clattered harmlessly to the ground.

  “Looks like she still needs some practice,” Celeste said.

  Jolene tapped on the window to catch her sister’s attention and motioned her in.

  Fiona came in through the kitchen door, stomping her feet and blowing into her ungloved fists.

  “What’s up?” Her eyes slid to the island. “Oh, great. Breakfast’s ready.”

  “Yeah, that and Morgan came across a dead body this morning,” Jolene said as she loaded scrambled eggs, bacon and toast onto a plate.

  Fiona’s left brow inched up. “Another one?”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. The sisters had found more than one body in the past couple of years and it was starting to be a family joke. Except usually, they were the ones getting blamed for the death.

  “Yeah, at least we aren’t suspects this time.” Morgan slid the printout of the photo she’d taken across the island toward her. “He had this in his hand.”