Page 26

Sully stood on the stone steps of Amy’s cottage. The early morning light broke through the trees to cast long, golden beams across the dew-soaked lawn. The air smelled of salt and freshly mowed grass, and though the day was just beginning, Sully already felt the pressure of time and money that had plagued him since day one with this project.

Matt’s text had come at dawn: Meet me at Amy’s cottage. Early. Need to talk. Sully hadn’t asked questions; he trusted Matt enough to know it was important. Still, the idea of being dragged into another conversation about ghost hunters and mediums before he’d even had his coffee wasn’t exactly his idea of a good morning.

He raised a hand to knock, then hesitated as he heard the faint shuffle of movement on the other side of the door. The sound of bare feet against wood, the gentle creak of floorboards. The door swung open before he could knock, and there was Amy, framed in the doorway, her dark hair damp and curling slightly at the ends.

She was wrapped in a soft robe, tied loosely at the waist. The pale fabric clung in places where it had soaked up the moisture from her skin. Her cheeks were pink from the shower, and a light floral scent drifted toward him—lavender, maybe. Something calming.

Sully froze. His pulse gave an irritating little jump, and he immediately hated himself for it. But his mutinous eyes found her lips and the memory of how she’d tasted.

“Oh,” Amy said, blinking at him in surprise. Her blue eyes, still soft with sleep, widened slightly as she tightened the robe around herself. “You’re early, or I’m late.”

“Matt said to meet here,” Sully muttered, shifting his weight and forcing his gaze to stay firmly on her face. “Didn’t realize you weren’t … ahh… dressed.”

“Oh, no! Look at the time,” she said, glancing at the kitchen clock and stepping back to let him in. “Come in, come in. I just got out of the shower. Kaitlin and Matt should be here soon.”

Sully stepped inside, keenly aware of how small her cottage felt with her in just a robe and his awkward bulk. Despite this, the space was cozy, with books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table and the faint hum of her essential oil diffuser in the corner. It was so different from his spartan, orderly house. Certainly he’d been in Amy’s cottage before, but it felt different with his growing awareness of its owner.

Ollie trotted over, wagging his tail and giving a single, sharp bark that demanded an ear scratch before losing interest and curling up on his dog bed.

“Coffee?” Amy asked, already moving toward the kitchen.

Sully nodded, then watched as she poured two mugs and handed one to him. Her fingers brushed his briefly, and he ignored the jolt that followed. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t let on. She took a quick sip and scurried up the stairs to get dressed.

“Let them in when they come, would you?”

The knock at the door came less than a minute later. Matt and Kaitlin entered in quick succession, Matt’s sheriff’s badge catching the light as he stepped inside and Kaitlin clutching her ever-present notebook. Sully noted a tension between them, as if they had been arguing.

“Morning,” Matt said briskly. He glanced around the room with his sharp sheriff eyes. “Thanks for letting us meet here, Amy.”

Amy joined them, and to Sully’s surprise, she was now fully dressed. Her damp hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

She waved them toward the small living room. “What’s this about, Matt? You sounded serious.”

“It is,” Matt replied, settling onto the couch. Kaitlin took the seat across from him, and Amy joined Matt on the couch. Sully remained standing, leaning against the doorway with his coffee in hand.

Matt folded his hands in front of him gravely. “I’ve been digging into this ghost-hunting crew of yours. Dead Reckoning.”

Amy rolled her eyes and frowned. “What about them?”

“I don’t trust them,” Matt said bluntly. “Mason Stark is a showman, plain and simple. He’s in it for the ratings, likely money and not the truth. There’s been some lawsuits against them from some of their other filming locations. Interestingly, they all settled out of court.”

Amy opened her mouth to protest, but Kaitlin beat her to it. “I know, Matt not trusting people is so surprising.” Kaitlin shared a laugh with Amy. “But I don’t know, Matt,” she said thoughtfully. “The medium, Rhiannon, felt authentic to me. The things she said about the protective spirit, the symbols in the house… She couldn’t have known that unless she was the real deal.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t she? The murders, the bones, the mansion’s history, the local lore—it’s all been in the papers, Kaitlin. She could’ve done her research before she ever set foot on this island.”

Kaitlin bristled, sitting up straighter. “I’ve been combing through the historical records for weeks, and let me tell you, it’s no easy task. The materials are scattered, incomplete, and half of it is written in handwriting that’s practically illegible. The local legends are passed down socially, not through any published journals. And the records aren’t in any databases, thanks to my predecessor at the town offices. We’ve only just begun to digitize anything. There’s no way she could have done that level of research in the time she’s been here.”

Matt didn’t back down. “She didn’t have to dig through records, Kaitlin. She just had to read the headlines. The bones in the garden, the murders—it’s all public knowledge. I’m not saying she’s a complete fraud, but I am saying you two need to be careful. You too, Sully, you and your crew. Don’t take everything she or they say at face value, or what they ask of you. There’s been clear allegations that some of their work is staged.”

Amy crossed her arms defensively. “I’m not an idiot, Matt.”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Matt said evenly. “I’m saying these people are here for a show. They’re going to sensationalize everything they can, whether or not it damages your reputations or the retreat’s reputation, and you need to be prepared for that.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Sully simply watched the exchange, his gaze flicking between Amy and Matt. He could see the fire in Amy’s eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw. She’d made up her mind about the ghost hunters, and nothing Matt said was going to change that. Nothing Sully said would either.

Still, Matt’s words hit home; Sully had a lot riding on this project, and he needed a crew to keep it going.

“Well,” Kaitlin said finally, breaking the silence. “I believe Rhiannon. And I think we should give her the benefit of the doubt.”