Echoes at Midnight: Echoes in the North Country, #2

By Angela Grey and Paige Peterson

Told in alternating timelines, this romance novel with a murder mystery twist takes place on the 16-acre island of Garden Key, the second largest island of the Dry Tortugas, a group of sandbars 68 miles southeast of Key West in the Gulf of Mexico. It's home to Fort Jefferson's hexagonal fortress. Beyond the moat, where you'll find on two sides the docks, primitive camping grounds on the southern part of the island, picnic areas under swaying palms, and immaculate white sand beaches. This is where darkness descends, and then murder and madness ensue.

While their group starts with more than a dozen people in adjacent campsites, mostly couples seeking a romantic night camping are suddenly thrown together with the challenge of escaping a serial killer far away from civilization. Callie, a young architect and fiancée, appreciates the islands' beauty and danger early on, as do veterinarian Oliver, electrical engineer Jack, and restoration architect Liam.

While everything starts happily, there are dangers and surprises that nobody could have foreseen. Will they learn to trust each other, or will their interpersonal obstacles be more devastating than the impossible physical and emotional challenges of escaping an unknown murderer who could be any one of them? The majority of the group is reluctant to team up with the one mentally challenged man, Jack, because of the whispers of suspicion surrounding his ex-wife's untimely death that they all were made aware of by his buddy Oliver on the two-and-a-half-hour ferry ride to the islands earlier in the day. But the closer Callie gets to Jack, the more she questions his innocence. However, a series of strange occurrences at the camping site makes Callie fear she might be the next to disappear in this romantic suspense thriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shady Oak Press
• Release date: Jun 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9781961841253

Angela Grey

Angela Grey has been writing since 2002. Initially, she self-published under the pseudonym Peyton Mathie; but then changed to her own name in 2008. She's a writer with mental illness, and has created memorable, moving tales about the sometimes unexpected and challenging road to first love. Those books are Dancing Without Music, Of Laughter & Heartbreak (a piece about obsessive-compulsive disorder), Déjà vu (a tale about a teen with bipolar disorder), and Secret Whispers (a story about schizophrenia). Although Angela is a South Dakota native and an enrolled member of the Sisseton-Wahpeton Oyate, she's lived in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York, on and off throughout her childhood. Currently, Angela resides in Eden Prairie, Minnesota, which is in the suburban Twin Cities, with the love of her life, Robert, their two Manx, two American Bobtail, their Cocker Spaniel/Cavalier King Charles mix, near their four adult children and their spouses, and two grandsons. In her spare time, Angela enjoys budget travel, camping, grilling/BBQs with family, yoga and spirituality classes and being a mental health advocate.

Book preview

ECHOES

AT

MIDNIGHT

Also by Angela Grey

Spirit Pass: A Jessica Stone Novella #1

Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women & Girls: A Jessica Stone Novella #2

The Lasting Echo of Lost Souls: A Jessica Stone Novella #3

Resilience Throughout Recovery

Beyond Quirky

Run Fast, Run Far

Sifting Through a Storied Past

Coteau des Prairies Runaway

Prologue to an Epitaph

A Childhood Lost to the Wind

Secret Whispers

Déjà vu

Of Laughter & Heartbreak

Beating Drum of a Broken Heart

Also by Angela Grey & Paige Peterson

Lake of Secrets

Dancing Without Music

Echoes of the Past

Madness & Mayhem

ECHOES

AT

MIDNIGHT

Angela Grey

Paige Peterson

ECHOES AT MIDNIGHT

Copyright © 2024 by Angela Grey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America.

For more information or to book an event, contact :

[e-mail]

http://www.shadyoakpress.com

Cover design by Paige Peterson

ISBN - Paperback: 978-1-961841-24-6

First Edition: June 2024

To the love of my life, Robert, and our four adult children,

Paige, Cody, Chase, & Brooke,

children-in-law

Vince and Angel,

and grandsons Logan & Luke

—AG

CONTENTS

COVER

ALSO BY THE AUTHORS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

Admiration Pains ​ ​1

Bitter Dawn ​ ​8

Amethyst Sunset ​ ​13

Edge of a Blunt Knife ​ ​23

Prophecy of Blood ​ ​30

The Origin of Hell ​ ​40

Neon Dreams ​ ​47

Mind Storm ​ ​55

Just Act Casual ​ ​63

Keen Incisions ​ ​71

The Faded Evening Gown ​ ​80

Emeralds and Dark Skies ​ ​88

She Is My Poison ​ ​ ​ ​96

The Urn Plant ​ ​104

Revenge of the Rose ​ ​114

Sea of Daggers ​ ​122

The Solemn Machine ​ ​130

The Xerxes Denial ​ ​138

Stealing Nightmares ​ ​146

A Scattering of Diamonds ​ ​154

Ribbon Scars ​ ​162

You Whistle ​ ​170

Zero Hour ​ ​179

Faded Daisies and Fallen Petals ​ ​185

No Saviors, Only Wolves Abound ​ ​192

Wild Wind and Wicked Thunder ​ ​198

Devil’s Playground ​ ​204

The Dying of the Light ​ ​210

Yesterday’s Ashes ​ ​216

Under a Wicked Little Spell ​ ​221

Tell Me Lovely Lies ​ ​226

A Beautiful Contradiction ​ ​231

Whispered My Devil ​ ​236

Origins of Blood and Ink ​ ​241

These Savage, Shadowed Streets ​ ​246

EPILOGUE ​ ​250

ABOUT THE AUTHORS ​ ​253

PROLOGUE

A baby-faced, freckled, strawberry blonde and average-statured man in his late thirties staggers through the edge of the dense old-growth forest of northern pin oak, birch, and aspen.

What did you put in my drink? He says as he stops five hundred feet later to lean against the cluster of white, red, and jack pines. The knob and kettle terrain are remnants of the retreated glaciers that pockmarked this area creating over one hundred and fifty lakes of varying sizes and depths. I think back to the tincture of water hemlock that I spiked his drink with as he continues to pretend his innocence. Why are you doing this to me? I've never done anything to you.

Don't play innocent. I know what you do to your little children, I prompt the rampant abuser.

What did they tell you? the prey cries as he collapses to his knees. I beg of you. You don't know what you're doing. They're liars.

I saw you in your truck, I follow with a rusty axe in hand, kicking him to stand and walk further down to where I parked my vehicle in a copse of trees near the park's edge.

Okay. Okay. We reach a clearing to the watershed where all the smaller varied-sized lakes, ponds, streams, and marshes flow into the big lake Itasca. It's only on the north shore of the lake that water exits at the recognized start of the Mississippi River.

Okay, what? I ask as I reminisce about coming to this park for enjoyment and to take that obligatory photo at the headwaters as we ditched our sandals and walked barefoot across the large, slippery rocks.

I've been hurting them, but I'll stop today, he pleads. I promise. He stands in the full moon's light, but I still flash my light in his face to find dilated pupils. Deer run out of the way of us. But it happened to me, too, when I was a little boy.

Then you should've gone for help. You didn't need to hurt your little kids. Not everybody that's been abused turns to the same cycle. They get help, I trip, so he attempts to break free of the leash and harness.

I think I step on a dead chipmunk, squirrel, or possibly a porcupine. Oh crap, definitely a porcupine, but thankfully not a skunk. I flash the light at the howling off to our right, all the while wary of black bears and wolves that roam this land.

Walking at nowhere near breakneck pace, we encounter a beaver dam in the river. My prey feigns injury from nettles and sharp branches, but I know better. My prey’s muscles twitch as he vomits, holding his stomach. We press on until the tremors and seizures finally lead to cardiac arrest, and he collapses. I make a mental note to adjust the tincture ratio, then begin the dismemberment, careful not to trample the sprinkling of yellow lady slippers that call these woods home.

JAKE

Admiration Pains

I meander the open house by myself, leaving my realtor behind, all the while wishing I'm walking through my sister's house down the street at the end of the quiet cul-de-sac. While this industrial, urban, two-story walkout is attractive, it doesn’t seem as worthy of my lifestyle as Leah’s.

Don’t you adore the matte finishes, real wood, and metal accents? My realtor Sydney oohs and ahs while I glance at everything she points to as she almost twirls in delight. She’s probably already spending her commission doing online shopping on her phone while yapping in my direction.

The fine lines of this home design reflect a modern countenance comprised of slanted rooflines, stone and wood accents, and an arched covered front porch with a steppingstone grid of pavers as the walkway that leads up to the grand entry. I appreciate how the plethora of windows cover the front and rear of the home ranging in shapes and sizes from small clerestory to oversized fixed, attracting a great amount of natural light. We started in the brick-exposed great room, where we landed upon entry through the rich mahogany eight-foot-tall double front doors.

I reach for the entry wall as if to touch the wall texture, but in reality, I’m flooded with the images of Dad dead on that bed. And Mom? Oh my god, she must’ve had suspended disbelief when she was killed. Oh, hell, I’ve got to snap out of this. What’s happening?

There she goes with a full twirl this time. Sydney can hardly contain herself.

​Visible structural elements such as exposed brick walls, beams, open ductwork, and rough hand-scraped bamboo or concrete floors cohesively tie the structure together. I like that it’s a newly built custom home, not that cookie-cutter crap you see everywhere these days. I swear, in most of the houses we have looked at so far, it appears that the builders only had ten sets of house plans to work off of in nearly every development. This area is different, though. This is the smallest of all the neighborhood custom homes, some even butting up against Gray’s Bay with their Lake Minnetonka access. Whoever gets this home must use the community access boat launch down the next street. Who am I kidding? I want this house.

​Shit. I’m dizzy. I feel nauseous at the bombardment of images from the dismembered images that Detective Bentley showed us back then during the interrogations in an attempt to get us to crack.

​The neutral color palette with an emphasis on darker tones such as black, grays, and white will play off your sleek white modern furniture, Sydney spills, unable to contain herself. You know how your metal and wood furniture play nicely with the leather and other upholstery items that you own. Just look at the emphasis on steel and dark metal, structurally in beams, columns, and that adorable spiral staircase off the breakfast nook. You can’t tell me that these bones of a home won’t make a fitting spot for your décor and artwork.

​Sydney, you’ll get my commission no matter which home I choose to purchase. Don’t try so hard.

​Oh, Jake. No, I’m not trying hard for the sale. Instead, I sleep well knowing my clients have found their dream homes. And this one seems to be made for you and your furnishings. The arched beam vault design found on the front porch continues into the great room with a soaring ceiling height to accompany that warming fireplace and its mantel to display your few family photo frames.

​Leah enters and says, Oh, my, Jake, that L-shaped kitchen with its large concrete center island and walk-in pantry and cabinets decorated in sheesham and teak is to die for. Leah beams from ear to ear. And it will be so nice to have you so close by. At least I’ll know that you’re safe all the time.

​I know, Sis, but don’t you think we’ll get on each other’s nerves just like we did when we were kids?

​No, we won’t, Leah waves my question off. I mean Jake, seriously, a top-of-base cabinet-to-ceiling wall of windows in the kitchen. We all know how much you like traipsing around in your boxer briefs at the height of moonlight when all the world can see you through your windows.

​That’s exactly what I mean about getting on my nerves, Leah, I fume, leaving them behind in the spacious owner’s suite, where they giggle. Sydney stands leaning against the fireplace while Leah opens the sliding door to access the covered deck.

​I stand in the spa-like brick-designed bathroom with its invisible glass wall separating the brick shower and the pebble-studded bathroom floor. Clean marble counters atop a salvaged sheesham vanity with industrial-styled hardware lead into the grand primary closet with its custom-designed, airy, remote-controlled storage system, just like Mom and Dad used to have.

I miss them. I’m not the only one, as I’ve seen Leah when she’d been bawling her eyes out. Leah cried herself to sleep in my arms over the bloody images we were shown.

The second floor offers views of the great room and foyer below and an extra nook. Both bedrooms, with their staged iron-framed beds and understated decor, enjoy their private en suite and walk-in closet, while the nook functions well as a study space and small library. I have to make a mental note that I want to keep some of the realtor’s staging company’s furnishings so I don’t have to go shopping with my sister. Leah is relentless when she’s on a shopping mission. It seriously takes her into the late hours of the night when furniture stores want to close their doors for the evening, but here’s my sister with floor plans she’d have me bring along to lay out the never-ending possibilities.

I meander into the angled den with its fireplace and half bathroom. Sydney catches up to me, taps me on the shoulder, and invades my space with her face as if we were playing hide-and-seek or peek-a-boo.

​This can function well as a home office or a dedicated adults-only room for entertaining friends. Just imagine a bar cart over in the corner or getting some of that teak to have another custom built-in constructed, Sydney suggests. I look away so as not to let her have the pleasure of knowing she’s got me pegged.

​It’s only been a year since all the deaths occurred, so I have these spotty flashbacks to interrogations and news stories about the gory way it all happened. I think of Mom’s body, which sends shivers down my spine.

​Sydney follows closely while spewing design lingo: The owner's suite features a spacious place to relax as the homeowner. There is a fireplace for added ambiance. The optional basement is an entertainer’s paradise with a media area and a bar designed with exposed brick, open metal lights, leather seating, and a teak entertainment stand, not to mention the exercise room, which will allow you to cancel your gym membership, Jake.

​A sleek concrete fire pit is home to a cozy outdoor area with a wooden daybed and two Adirondack chairs with crisp white cushions atop the pebbled patio. I can see myself out here with a date. Although the back of the house butts up against a coulee with backyards of houses just across the way.

​Leah joins me with her ear-to-ear smile. She points up to the covered decks off the dining room, where Sydney waves at us, as she’s smiling as well. Other prospective home buyers follow Sydney’s gaze down to where we sit.

​It’s probably time that I inform her I want to make an offer so these strangers can leave my home. About five couples inspect every nook and cranny of my future home.

​So, will you make the offer now or later? Leah asks from where she sits in the next Adirondack chair. You’ve got the money now with that hefty payment you got from assisting on your buddy’s app.

​Excuse me? I did more than assist. Joey would never have come up with the idea if it weren’t for my endless suggestions. If only he’d been listening all along, this would’ve happened sooner, and I could’ve bought your house instead of this one.

​Don’t tell me that you’re still jealous over that, Leah spurts, then her eyes go dim, and she looks at me, You don't still have those ruminating thoughts and imagery, do you?

​No.

​I saw you off in your own world upstairs, staring off into nothing on the landing, she reveals.

​I was just trying to get away from you and Sydney. You’re too giddy.

​Jake, don’t change the subject and tell me the truth.

​Sydney’s approaching. We can talk about this later, Sis, I say when Leah squeezes my arm and acknowledges.

LEAH

Bitter Dawn

I sit here in our Craftsman-style home office, just off the formal dining room, and take in the breathtaking sights of Gray's Bay and Lake Minnetonka's abundant wildlife that I've grown accustomed to year-round from my southern exposure wall-to-wall, tall windows. I set my coffee mug on a bamboo coaster atop my luxurious custom desk with its fine woodworking that took three months to have commissioned.

I get up, stretch, walk out onto the deck, which runs the length of the house, down the stairs to the patio, and out past our wooded lot a hundred feet to the shoreline. I step around the kayaks and canoe and up onto the dock. Great blue herons, Canadian geese, mallard ducks, and noisy loons fish for food, some sweeping down and carrying off their prey. I pull my throw tighter to my body to shield me from this unseasonably bitter early morning that would have