Sinister Sanctuary by Colleen Gleason

Author:Colleen Gleason
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944665470
Publisher: Avid Press

Nine

“You have some questions,” Teddy said, resting her head back against the seat of Oscar’s Jeep. She was relaxed and happy, had been well fed and well entertained this evening, and best of all: the book was done.

She’d had just enough wine to make her a little loose, but far from sloppy or goofy. And she couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Dr. Oscar London was—and what a fun dinner partner he’d turned out to be.

“Just a few,” he said, his mouth a little grim as he followed the broad sweep of a curve along the wooded road. “Why didn’t you mention hearing the scream every night?”

“I was too busy trying to finish a bloody book,” she said. “I had other more important things on my mind than a ghostly presence. Why didn’t you mention it?” she countered, enjoying her companion’s adorable sense of unease.

“I only heard it once—besides the night we were trapped up on top of the lighthouse,” he said. “The next night I didn’t hear it, so I thought it stopped after that.”

“It didn’t. I heard it every night except the one night you didn’t hear it. Always at one thirty on the dot. Hard to miss.”

“You didn’t say anything about it.”

“Nor did I come running over to your side of the cottage to make sure you weren’t being tortured to death,” she replied teasingly. “Or vice versa.”

Well, that shut him up. She grinned to herself.

“After the second night, I wore earplugs and played white noise,” he replied as he navigated the Jeep off the main road onto the narrow, bumpy path that led to the Stony Cape island bridge. Trees arched overhead like a green tunnel, casting the road into an eerie darkness. “So I didn’t hear it. In case it happened again.”

“Classic avoidance,” she said.

He rolled his eyes, then glanced at her. “Did you hear it the first night you were here?”

“Not the first night. I’d had a few too many B-Cubeds at dinner, and I put earplugs in and slept like a log. Which is how I’m going to sleep tonight—the sleep of the innocent…or, in this case, the sleep of the author of the finished book.”

“But it’s not really finished,” he reminded her. “Technically.”

Why did he keep mentioning that? “It’s close enough for me to sleep the sleep of the author of the finished book.”

“Got it.” He turned the wheel, and the Jeep bounced onto the rut-filled road that led to the island. “Well, again, congratulations. Really. I’m very happy for you.”

It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, so it was still very light out. The sun wouldn’t set for at least another hour.

“I think we should go up to the top of the lighthouse and look around,” she said impulsively.

He glanced over with a look that clearly said, Are you crazy? and she began to laugh.

“Don’t you want to see if the ghost comes back again? With that amorphous, phosphorescent greenish-blue glowy stuff you claim is algae?”

“Not particularly.”

“But it would be your chance to take a sample—that way you could prove it’s just algae and not some ghostly specter.

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