Ravens Cove, An Iconoclast Thriller (Book 1)
The Spiritual Battle for a Small Alaska Town
By Mary Ann Poll
America’s Lady of Supernatural Thrillers
JO’S STRANGE STORY
“I can’t believe a person covered in blood can just disappear,” Bart said.
“We’ve looked at her house, and her friends’ homes. She’s nowhere to be found,” Ken answered.
“Let’s get to Caroline and Cassie’s house, and then go back out again.”
Caroline opened the door. “Cassie is sleeping. So, please be as quiet as you can.”
“Of course,” Bart answered.
Bart and Ken listened, working to believe Jo’s strange story.
“That’s some story, Jo,” Bart said.
“You know I’m down-to-earth, Bart. I don’t believe in this supernatural mumbo jumbo. But the way Ransom looked . . . she was a whole different person. A really creepy person.”
A knock interrupted the questioning. Caroline ushered Kat, Grandma Bricken, Paul and Josiah into the room.
Bart continued, “You sure it was Ransom?”
“Sure as I’m looking at you Bart! Her hair color alone gave her away—You know, the cherry Kool-Aid color?
“Yeah. It’s definitely unique.”
“And she carried on an intense conversation with no one . . . at least no one I could see.”
“Hmmm.” Bart knew Jo pooh-poohed anything which could not be seen, felt, touched, smelled, or tasted. The supernatural nonsense being just that—nonsense. He sighed. Tonight, her
concrete world shattered.
Caroline stood statue-still nodding her head up and down like a bobblehead.
“I’ve never seen Jo this upset since . . .” Grandma said.
“Since when?” Josiah asked.
“Since her husband left.” Grandma shook her head. “Not relevant now.”
“What should we do?” Pastor Lucas asked Grandma.
“Right now? We wait.”
“One more thing, Sheriff. I think I know where Mrs. Plotno went,” Jo said.
“She headed up Main and into the dark—in a hurry, like on a mission. If I were a swearing woman, I’d swear she headed to Ravens Ravine.”
“The only place not checked,” Bart murmured to Ken. “With all that’s happened, I didn’t think she’d be crazy enough to go up there. Jo, stay here with Caroline—at least until it gets light. Both of you try to get some rest.”
Ken and Bart started up Main, the group falling in a few steps behind.
Bart turned. “Not you. This is way too dangerous.”
“This is too dangerous for us not to join you,” Josiah answered.
The group turned eyes on Bart and Ken.
“Legend or not, in good conscience, I cannot let you come along. How am I going to know I’m doing my job, when the two most important women in my life,” Bart looked from Kat to Grandma Bricken, “would be heading right into the path of possible life-ending danger?”
“And how, Bartholomew, could I live with myself if I allowed my most beloved great-nephew to walk into definite spiritual death?”
A death scream ruptured the night’s silence. It came from the direction of the ravine.
“That was no animal,” Kat said.
Grandma’s head shot up to Bart. She stared into his eyes. “We will be accompanying you tonight, Bartholomew Anderson!” She clutched her cane and started for the ravine.