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Authors: Kendra Ashe
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well,” she frowned and waved her thin hand in the air, as if to wipe away my absurd excuses. “The curse was that our sins would come back to haunt us … all our sins. The moment the founding fathers cut the ribbon for Storm Cove, at the very spot where the old man died, they sealed the fate of the island,” she informed me.
I was still skeptical. “I’m not sure there is a connection. If it is the town curse, why has it already started? The Storm Cove Bicentennial isn’t until Saturday.”
Granny Stella shrugged. “Who’s to say? Maybe they don’t have the dates right, or perhaps the sins are seeping from the sacred ground that has held them all these years.”
“So what do we do?”
“First thing first, you have to find out who’s channeling the power. These things need a channel. Once you know who that is, you might be able to stop it.”
Okay then … so how the hell was I going to find the channel?
For the hundredth time since coming back from the dead, I had to wonder why I couldn’t just have a simple serial killer case to work, like a normal FBI agent?
Sighing, I reached over and hugged Granny Stella. “Well since it appears we are in for disaster this weekend, I guess I better get to work.”
“Are you going to the office today?” she asked.
“Don’t see as I have much choice,” I nodded. “Maybe it’s going to come down to some good old fashioned police work to figure this out.”
“Well Pumpkin Pie, if you don’t mind, will you tell your Uncle Aaron to stop by the market on his way home tonight? You know … that new twenty-four hour market. I can’t recall the name.”
“Happy All Hours,” I put in for her.
“That’s it!” Granny smiled. “Ask Aaron to pick up a gallon of milk and some bread … if you will?”
“Sure Granny.”
After giving her another hug, I got out of there before she decided to get into a discussion about my marital status, as in me still being unmarried. Not that I didn’t appreciate her concern, I just wasn’t as near worried about it as she was.
My experience with Jasper had put the fear into me, as in the fear of getting involved with some dog of a guy.
As far as I was concerned, being single was preferable to getting stuck with some jerk like Jasper.
Granny would say it was just because I was still angry, which wasn’t true at all. I preferred to use the word, extremely cautious. Anger really didn’t have much to do with it. If anything, I should be thanking that trollop wedding planner for saving me years of heartache and headaches, not to mention, her role in helping me get my new job.
Chapter Seven
Getting Granny’s message to Aaron would be easy, considering he worked at the top of the Shipwreck Point Lighthouse. Apparently the Historical Society thought it made more sense to put Uncle Aaron’s radio station at the top of the lighthouse, as apposed to the FBI.
I understood the bit about an FBI black cell being top secret, but still it rubbed me the wrong way. Being at work would be so much more pleasant, if we had Uncle Aaron’s view.
One day I’d get over it, and that day might even be today, considering I was huffing and puffing by the time I’d climbed the two dozen stairs to that part of the lighthouse commonly known as the lantern room.
I’d only climbed about half the stairs when I realized just how horrible it would be to have to subject myself to this kind of workout every time I came to work.
Maybe it was a good idea to let Uncle Aaron have his view.
The large wooden door that separated WRCK from the rest of the lighthouse was supposed to be closed at all times, but it wasn’t closed. It was standing open just a few inches, which was unusual. Uncle Aaron always kept it closed on account of outside noise tended to interfere with his broadcasts.
I stood in front of the door, undecided.
Should I knock and risk adding a bit of my own noise pollution to his broadcast, or just barge in?
Shouldn’t there
I was still skeptical. “I’m not sure there is a connection. If it is the town curse, why has it already started? The Storm Cove Bicentennial isn’t until Saturday.”
Granny Stella shrugged. “Who’s to say? Maybe they don’t have the dates right, or perhaps the sins are seeping from the sacred ground that has held them all these years.”
“So what do we do?”
“First thing first, you have to find out who’s channeling the power. These things need a channel. Once you know who that is, you might be able to stop it.”
Okay then … so how the hell was I going to find the channel?
For the hundredth time since coming back from the dead, I had to wonder why I couldn’t just have a simple serial killer case to work, like a normal FBI agent?
Sighing, I reached over and hugged Granny Stella. “Well since it appears we are in for disaster this weekend, I guess I better get to work.”
“Are you going to the office today?” she asked.
“Don’t see as I have much choice,” I nodded. “Maybe it’s going to come down to some good old fashioned police work to figure this out.”
“Well Pumpkin Pie, if you don’t mind, will you tell your Uncle Aaron to stop by the market on his way home tonight? You know … that new twenty-four hour market. I can’t recall the name.”
“Happy All Hours,” I put in for her.
“That’s it!” Granny smiled. “Ask Aaron to pick up a gallon of milk and some bread … if you will?”
“Sure Granny.”
After giving her another hug, I got out of there before she decided to get into a discussion about my marital status, as in me still being unmarried. Not that I didn’t appreciate her concern, I just wasn’t as near worried about it as she was.
My experience with Jasper had put the fear into me, as in the fear of getting involved with some dog of a guy.
As far as I was concerned, being single was preferable to getting stuck with some jerk like Jasper.
Granny would say it was just because I was still angry, which wasn’t true at all. I preferred to use the word, extremely cautious. Anger really didn’t have much to do with it. If anything, I should be thanking that trollop wedding planner for saving me years of heartache and headaches, not to mention, her role in helping me get my new job.
Chapter Seven
Getting Granny’s message to Aaron would be easy, considering he worked at the top of the Shipwreck Point Lighthouse. Apparently the Historical Society thought it made more sense to put Uncle Aaron’s radio station at the top of the lighthouse, as apposed to the FBI.
I understood the bit about an FBI black cell being top secret, but still it rubbed me the wrong way. Being at work would be so much more pleasant, if we had Uncle Aaron’s view.
One day I’d get over it, and that day might even be today, considering I was huffing and puffing by the time I’d climbed the two dozen stairs to that part of the lighthouse commonly known as the lantern room.
I’d only climbed about half the stairs when I realized just how horrible it would be to have to subject myself to this kind of workout every time I came to work.
Maybe it was a good idea to let Uncle Aaron have his view.
The large wooden door that separated WRCK from the rest of the lighthouse was supposed to be closed at all times, but it wasn’t closed. It was standing open just a few inches, which was unusual. Uncle Aaron always kept it closed on account of outside noise tended to interfere with his broadcasts.
I stood in front of the door, undecided.
Should I knock and risk adding a bit of my own noise pollution to his broadcast, or just barge in?
Shouldn’t there
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