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“I can’t believe there was a snake in the records room,” she said, an involuntary shudder crossing her shoulders. She gathered her things.

Matt leaned against the door frame, a deep crease between his brow. “They’re not common. Maine isn’t supposed to have any poisonous snakes, anyhow. As a kid, we used to try finding them in the woods. Never did.”

Kaitlin paused in her gathering. “We’re miles from the mainland. You think someone put it there deliberately?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said carefully.

Kaitlin suppressed a shiver, remembering the sinuous dark shape Jasper had pulled from behind the shelving unit, its crushed head still dripping.

“Who would do something like that?” she whispered, though the question felt hollow.

Matt’s gaze met Kaitlin’s across the sunlit library. No words passed between them, but the hardness in his lips gave away his thoughts. The snake and the fire weren’t random misfortunes.

How far would someone go to keep the mansion’s secrets? And who on this small island was desperate enough to resort to such methods? A fire, a poisonous snake?

Murder?

The moment stretched between them, laden with unspoken theories, until Matt finally broke the silence with a simple nod toward the door.

He straightened, checking his watch. “If you’re still up for it, we should get going. Our next interview is on the other side of the island.”

Kaitlin nodded and tucked her notebook into her bag. Despite the lingering shock of the snake encounter, she was determined not to show weakness. Each clue brought them closer to understanding what had happened in the mansion’s final days, what had happened to her mother.

“I’m ready,” she said, striding toward the door where Matt waited. “Let’s see what our next interview yields before jumping to conclusions.”

Back in the Jeep, Matt pulled out the list they’d compiled. “Marissa Lane. Worked in the mansion kitchens. Mrs. Jenkins mentioned her. She runs the bakery in town now.”

“The one with the cinnamon rolls everyone raves about?” Kaitlin asked.

“That’s the one. Came to the island for the job, stayed after the mansion closed.” Matt started the engine. “Married a local fisherman who died in a boating accident about ten years ago.”

As they headed away from town, Matt found himself aware of Kaitlin’s presence beside him. Her profile as she gazed out the window was outlined against the blue of the ocean glimpsed between the trees.

He forced his attention back to the road. This was a professional partnership, nothing more. She was leaving as soon as her research was complete, returning to her life across an ocean. Any other thoughts were distractions he couldn’t afford.

He forced his thoughts back to the pieces of the puzzle that was this case. The snake encounter was weighing on his mind, and he was resisting jumping to conclusions. He needed to gather more information before he considered it a deliberate act. Before he considered how dark of an underbelly Widow’s Point really had. A shudder crept over his skin.

They drove in companionable silence, the radio playing softly in the background. Matt was surprised at how easy it felt, this quiet space between them. Usually, he worked alone, the solitude of his position something he’d grown accustomed to over years of policing a small island where he was both authority figure and neighbor.

Marissa Lane’s cottage appeared around a bend in the road. It was a small, well-kept place perched on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic. Purple asters and late-blooming black-eyed Susans nodded in the breeze, protected from the salt spray by a low stone wall.

“Nice spot,” Matt commented as he cut the engine. “Probably gets the full force of the nor’easters, though.”

“Worth it for that view,” Kaitlin replied, gazing at the horizon where sky met water in a seamless blue expanse.

Matt led the way to the cottage door. The sound of classical music drifted from inside, along with the rich aroma of something baking. His knock was answered promptly.

The door opened to reveal a woman in her early sixties, flour dusting the apron tied over her jeans and sweater. Her hair, a warm brown streaked with silver, was pulled back in a loose braid, and laugh lines framed vivid green eyes.

Those eyes widened as they took in the visitors on her doorstep, skating over Matt before landing on Kaitlin with an intensity that made him straighten instinctively.

“Sheriff,” she said, with careful control. “This is unexpected.”

“Mrs. Lane,” Matt nodded. “Sorry to drop in unannounced. We’re looking into a case involving the mansion. We were hoping you might have a few minutes to talk about your time working there.”

Marissa’s gaze hadn’t left Kaitlin’s face.

“Of course,” she said, stepping back. “I’ve just taken bread out of the oven for the church bake sale. We can talk in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”