“Should we go in?” Rae looked around as if unsure. “I never have before. It always seemed…impolite.”

“Let me. You wait out here.”

“No.” Rae was most emphatic. “I’m coming with you.”

Kellen headed toward the mausoleum, Rae and Luna on her heels. The glass and iron door hung open, swinging and creaking in the breeze. Kellen stopped Rae and the dog a few feet back and murmured, “Let me look first.” She peered cautiously inside.

A great, tall marble slab stood in the middle of the space, waiting for the arrival of a coffin. That was all.

“She’s not here. Jamie’s not here.” Kellen had truly thought she must be in here. But no. It was empty. So empty.

Jamie had disappeared from the island.

Rae joined her and looked inside. “This room, what’s it for?”

“I would think Mr. Morgade intended to be interred here.”

Rae stated the obvious. “He’s not. Where do you suppose he is?”

“Isn’t that a good question.” Such a splendid resting place that he had designed for himself, and yet—he wasn’t here.

A dozen headstones were placed as far away as possible from the splendid edifice. The two oldest were inscribed with Jones, Asa and Sarah, married. Both died in 1918.

“The Spanish flu probably did them in.” Kellen looked around at the isolated, windswept island. “I didn’t know anyone lived here so long ago.”

Two more graves: Alice Blacker and Doris Comden, “Served faithfully and well.” One died 1938, another 1946.

“Maids who worked at Morgade Hall,” Kellen explained to Rae.

“Here’s Ruby’s mother!” Kellen had found a plain headstone inscribed with her name, Reika Morgade, and the dates 1901 to 1948.

Kellen did the math. “She was young, only forty-seven. I wonder what happened to her?”

“Here are Ruby’s brothers!” Rae’s voice rose in excitement.

The tombstones were side by side, well cared for, with the names clearly etched.

Alexander Joseph Morgade

Son, brother, hero

Lawrence Elmer Morgade

Duty above all

“It’s like seeing the story made real,” Rae said.

A very sad part of the story.

A few more stones were scattered throughout the cemetery, but Kellen couldn’t keep her mind on who else rested here. Instead, she looked back at that mausoleum, desolate and empty. Why wasn’t Mr. Morgade interred here on his island? Where was he was interred? And why? Why wasn’t Jamie here?

Why everything?

In a flurry, the wind picked up. Clouds from the southeast began to sweep over the island in thin, tattered streams. The surf surged against the island, battering against the rocks. Shadows raced across the land; in a few hours, this world seemed to have changed from isolated and still and wild to menacing.

Rae’s small, frightened voice said, “Mommy?”

At once Kellen leaped to attention, looked around for a threat, for the remains of Jamie, for Mara, for anything.