“It isn’t safe to wander the island,” he said.
Nigel looked around in confusion. There was just the ocean, the beach, the grass, and the ghost forest. “What do you mean, not safe?”
“The trees could fall. And there may be rip currents.”
Oscar frowned. “I guess? But we aren’t near the trees or getting in the water.”
Ethan switched tactics. “Ms. Montague would like everyone to remain focused on the house.”
She must have been the one to send Ethan after them. Nigel didn’t see why it mattered if they spent some time on the beach…but she was footing the bill. No doubt being back here had put her on edge, so if she wanted them to remain more or less in sight at all times, that’s what they would do.
He cast one last look at the deceptive waters, calm and beautiful but with hidden shoals beneath. Then, hand in hand with Oscar, he turned his feet back toward The Cottage.
Ethan’s gaze bored into him the whole way back.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Dinner consisted of ramen and coffee, eaten at the end of the dining room table not taken up by equipment. The sun set as they ate, the shadow of the house across the sand fading into the general darkness. The lights of ships appeared on the horizon, like stars bobbing on the waves. Oscar felt a twinge of regret over the interrupted walk with Nigel. Haunted house or no, there was something romantic about a beach.
As they finished dinner, the front door opened. A hand-held lantern cut through the shadows in the hall, revealing Ethan, Dr. Lawson, and Ms. Montague.
“I see you’ve got everything set up,” Dr. Lawson said approvingly once they reached the dining room. “Hopefully you can find something tonight.”
“We already have,” Tina said. “My phone’s haunted now.”
“The phone is not haunted.” Nigel looked to Dr. Lawson. “Tina took a selfie in the parlor mirror, and a man showed up in the photo, standing right behind her.”
“Like a creep.” Tina brought up the picture on one of the monitors, and Lawson and Montague crowded in to look.
“That’s him,” Montague said grimly. “Seth Ullman.”
“Patricia…” Lawson started.
“Don’t be ridiculous—they’ve already found the man and his ledger, so it doesn’t matter if Mr. Fox hears his story.” Montague moved toward one of the chairs, and Ethan hastily pulled it out so she could sit.
Dr. Lawson crossed her arms. “Fine. But stick to the basics about Ullman and the Pack.”
“As you wish.” Montague folded her hands on the silver head of her cane. “The Pack was what Ullman and his friends called themselves. A boy’s club sort of name, but that’s what it was, even if it was made up of grown men.
“As I mentioned before, Mr. Ullman built this house in 1908, to his own specifications. In that time, few of the wealthy retired to the Outer Banks during the summer—they preferred Newport and the like, places where there’s less humidity. But the Pack wanted a more secluded place, one where they could renew their bonds of friendship and escape the pressures of society.” She paused. “My great-great uncle was one of their number.”
“Wouldn’t they have been competitors in the tobacco business, though?” Chris asked.
Montague laughed. “Good heavens, no. They divided up the market, with Ullman advertising to businessmen and the like, and my family targeting the younger crowd, especially young women.”
“Cancer for everyone,” Tina said, eyes on her monitors as she brought up the feed from the static cams they’d already placed.
“So why was his name in Ullman’s ledger?” Oscar asked. “Did he borrow money from him?”
“Have you ever heard of the Panic of 1907?” She looked around at their blank faces. “It was a financial crisis. The details don’t matter, but my family lost a small fortune. Ullman’s investments remained on a sounder footing, so he agreed to loan his dear friend Noah Montague enough to keep him solvent. I assume the ledger records his repayments.”
It made sense. “And it got left behind in the house?”
“So it would seem, though I don’t recall seeing it when we were here in the 1980s. Then again, we were hardly scouring the shelves of the library.” Montague looked away for a moment, then back. “At any rate, Ullman sailed through the panic and built this house the following year. He seemed to lead a charmed life. But in the winter of 1910, his youngest daughter, Gloria, died from a tumble down the stairs. Still grieving, he joined the rest of the Pack here that summer. Alas, tragedy wasn’t done with him. At the end of the season, just before they were to return to the mainland, the other six took the yacht out for one last cruise of the islands. Something went wrong, the yacht caught fire, and everyone on board perished, including Noah.”
More bones for the Graveyard. “But Ullman wasn’t with them, correct?”
