Page 10 of Shattered Sanctuary

Johnson nodded at her. “Erin Delaney?” he said. “Like the author?”

“Thisisthe author,” the chief said. “But let’s keep that under our hats, okay?”

Johnson grinned. “No one will hear it from me, but you know how folks in Sanctuary are. If everyone doesn’t know it already, they will soon.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t want anyone hounding Miss Delaney.”

“Got it, boss. I’d better get over there before Gibson has a coronary. He’s not the most patient man.”

“And that’s with a natural death. This is different, Tim.Very different. We have an unknown subject that needs to be found—sooner than later.”

“Okay,” Johnson said slowly. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“See you back at the station.”

“Nice to meet you,” Johnson said to Erin. Then he pushed himself off the Jeep and headed toward the spot where Gibson waited.

“So, you think he’s up to the job?” Erin asked as the chief started the Jeep and headed back to the road they’d come in on.

“Absolutely.” The chief chuckled. “He reminds me of you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

“I mean it in a good way,” the chief said. “He’s smart, knowledgeable, and thorough. There’s no one better. He graduated top of his class, and he did it on his own, without a family to help him. He won’t miss anything.”

“Good.” Erin sighed. “I wish Kaely was here.”

“Seems to me you already know how to read a crime scene. I doubt anyone could have done any better.”

“I appreciate that, but she could certainly have helped you more than I did,” Erin said. “Hopefully she’ll be able to see something in the photos I took for her.”

“Thanks for hiding your phone from Gibson. He would have been apoplectic if he’d known you were taking pictures. I hope they help, but if Ms. Hunter is able to add much to your analysis, I’ll be shocked. Seems like you learned a lot from her—or from your own research. I’m not sure you should give up your dream of working for the FBI.”

In an attempt to steer the conversation away from things she didn’t want to talk about, Erin said, “Do you know Steve Tremont?”

“The guy who owns the cabin where you’re staying? Sure.”

“I met him when I arrived. He seemed... nervous. It wasn’t because he knew who I was. It was something else. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”

The chief laughed. “You’ll think it’s absurd, but here goes. Steve got a good deal on the cabin, but he’s new to the area. Bought the cabin a couple of years ago and only moved here a year ago so he could oversee renovations. He didn’t know the cabin’s history. I think the locals are having some fun with him. He’s a little... How do I say this nicely? Pretentious? He moved here from the big city. He finds us... quaint.”

“Quaint?” Now it was Erin’s turn to laugh. “Wow. Yeah, that might make me want to mess with him.” She shook her head. “So, about the cabin’s history?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” the chief asked. Erin could see from his expression that he wanted to tell her.

“I’m fascinated. Spill it.”

“It’s pretty spooky. Don’t want to give you nightmares.”

A scene from Erin’s most recent nightmare flashed in her mind. “No,” she said more forcefully than she meant to. “Tell me.”

“The cabin where you’re staying was built in the early eighteen hundreds by a man named William Watcher. He built it for his new bride, Emma. He also bought about fifty acres around the house. That’s why it’s called Watcher Woods.”

“Sounds good so far.”

“It was good... until it wasn’t. About two years after they moved into the cabin, he killed Emma. Then he killed himself. The poem began to circulate not long after that. It’s been passed down for generations.”

“The poem?”

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