Page 76 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
Shea frowned. “Couldn’t Hilliard have had another map drawn up? He had to know where this supposed vein of silver was.”
Edna nodded. “Perhaps. But while the map might’ve been the reason Jonathan Marks went haywire because he was on a treasure hunt, back in Hilliard’s time I think it was less about the map and more about the other papers that had Hilliard in such a tizzy. Silvertown went bust shortly after the stamp mill burned. Hilliard lost all his investors. He lost ... everything.”
“What happened to his daughter, Rebecca?”
Edna shook her head. “She disappeared into the annals of history. But she was blamed for the economic downfall of Silvertown. She essentially made off with its future and it turned into a ghost town. Jonathan thought he’d figured out some tie between Rebecca and Annabel’s ghost and the map. Somebig reveal, but then he just gave up. He killed himself.”
Shea considered Edna’s words. “Jonathan found out something he’d been passionately pursuing, but instead of revealing it, he decided to end his life?”
Edna nodded. She rubbed the end of her nose with her handkerchief. “Poor Jonathan. He was ... such a damaged soul.”
Jonathan’s death made less sense now than ever to Shea. Who killed themselves when they were supposedly on the cusp of their greatest find? She bid Edna goodbye and made her way back to Pete and the truck. Once she slipped into the driver’s side, Pete waited for her to speak.
Shea twisted in her seat to face him. “If I were to tell you I had super big news, would you expect me to kill myself?”
“You ask the weirdest questions,” Pete retorted.
“Well?” she persisted.
“No. I’d expect you to come out with it and tell me.”
Shea could tell Pete was waiting for the repeat of her conversation with Edna. Instead, she leveled a direct look on him and said, “Jonathan Marks was murdered. I’d bet my book on it.”
30
REBECCA
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams...
Annabel Lee
ANNABEL’S LIGHTHOUSE
SPRING, 1874
THEY KNEW WHERE TO FIND HER,and with the opportunity provided by the distraction of the stamp mill in flames, Edgar was one man against ten. This time Hilliard had sent more than Mercer to the lighthouse, and he was no longer acting covertly.
A rifle butt slammed into Edgar’s midsection, and the old man went down to his knees on the lawn, his rifle falling to the ground. The group of mercenaries encircled him—bearded faces, grungy clothes, the physique of miners, the sooty remains of the stamp mill fire marring their skin.
Mercer bent over Edgar. “Hand her over!”
Rebecca burst from her hiding place in the lighthouse, where Edgar had demanded she stay put after spotting the incoming small army of miners. Where Abel was, they didn’t know, but it was just Edgar now against much younger, much brawnier men. Men with few scruples.
“Stop!” Rebecca screamed at Mercer. Anger filled her at the sight of Edgar. He was still doubled over on the ground, yet he was waving her back into the lighthouse as if it could somehow save her. It wouldn’t, Rebecca knew. Mercer and his men would bust into the place and take her anyway, but only after beating Edgar.
She could not let that happen.
“Leave him alone!” Rebecca staggered toward them, her hand on her abdomen as though she could protect the child Abel claimed was his.
Mercer straightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Ah, so you’re finally going to come on your own free will.”
Rebecca fought the urge to look at Edgar. She couldn’t lose her resolve, and she knew he was beseeching her with his every movement and expression.Go! Hide!She could practically hear his unspoken demands.
But she was done with hiding. Finished with running from memories that were like ghosts lurking in the back of her traumatized mind. Finished with denying that her father was a greed-driven man with no conscience when it came to her.
Mercer tipped his head toward one of the men, and they stalked toward her, grabbing her arm and jerking her forward.
“Leave her alone!” Edgar grunted, attempting to push himself off the ground.
