Through her uncanny powers of observation, Jane Lindsey has just revealed the killer in a complicated case. Even though the investigation has officially concluded, Jane cannot let go of an uneasy feeling that something is wrong. Every week, she paddles across the bay that surrounds East Island and looks for anything suspicious. After Jane stumbles upon a strange metal object partially hidden under algae, she looks up only to see a man pointing a gun at her. As she frantically paddles away, Jane is puzzled why the man did not kill her when he had the opportunity. An evil aura is surrounding East Island, and Jane is determined to get to the bottom of it. She phones investigative reporter Steve Conway for his insight and learns a young woman has disappeared. As Jane digs into the questionable background of East Island's owner, another woman vanishes; Jane is once again hot on the trail of a psychopathic killer. In a whirlwind investigation that takes Jane from East Island to Minnesota, she must rely on her father's advice and her own intuition to guide her investigation to find a murderer with an insatiable thirst for the blood of women-including her own.

East Island

A Jane Lindsey MysteryBy Edwin G. Rice

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Edwin G. Rice
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-7077-9

Chapter One

There was no sound but the distant calls of crows deep in the woods along the south shore. Ripples had come to the lake surface as patchy areas of morning fog rose skyward and vanished while others drifted eastward driven by the rising breeze from the west.

The entry of Jane's paddle into the water was nearly silent as she pressed forward across the west-arm of the Great Grassy Bay; looming before her was the starkly barren northwest face of East Island. Another pull with her bent-paddle sent the Old Town surging ahead, ever closer to the island's forbidding shore line of rocks and boulders. At the last Jane held a stern-rudder on the starboard side which swung the bow 30 degrees to the south; enough to cast the canoe into a glide grazing the shore only inches from the rocks.

Jane leaned to her left and peered over the port-side gunwale the instant she heard the unmistakable harsh sound of the canoe scraping across rock. "Too close, I'd better swing out," she whispered. Scarcely had she uttered the words when in the morning light she saw the glint of metal; it was wrist-deep in the water next to a boulder and partially covered by algae. The water was warm on her hand as was the small strand of vegetation that caught on her rings as she reached in; yet the metal of the object felt strangely cold to her touch.

"How in the world could it have gotten here?" She murmured.

Without further thought she tossed it into her pack, grasped her paddle and lightly pushed the canoe away from shore.

Scarcely had she done so, when gripped by a sudden sense of uneasiness she again paused.—Later Jane Lindsey would be unable to recall what then made her turn her eyes upward from the rocky shoreline.—When she first saw him he was only steps from the shore standing in the shadow of a single weather-stunted tree.

Only for an instant did she see his face.—From the moment that she looked up, Jane Lindsey was staring into the muzzle of a gun.

Chapter Two

No words were spoken. ——Motionless as if frozen in time and numb with fear, heart-pounding seconds passed as Jane stared at the lethal threat aimed directly at her.—After a final breathless moment, the muzzle swung away from her face in a single unmistakable and menacing gesture.

Having made a last second eye contact, Jane's head and eyes spun away. Again and again she dug deep with her paddle pulling with all her strength as she swung the canoe away from the shore onto a course that would take her back across the grassy bay and to safety. Gasping and trembling she pressed ahead; with each desperate stroke of the paddle the thoughts repeated, "Will he shoot now; will he shoot me in the back?"

A minute passed. "Will I soon be out of range?" Jane murmured when for an instant she paused and turned her eyes back toward the island.—Like a tidal wave, relief surged through her and tears came when she looked over her shoulder and saw the lone figure turn from the shore and make a slow climb up the steep west side to the summit of the island and vanish into the trees.

Having turned away, for a time Jane rested the paddle across the gunwales, closed her eyes and sat drifting in silence as her thoughts raged on. "At least I know this; if he had wanted to kill me had every chance to do so.—It meant don't ever come here again; it was his final warning."

After taking a deep breath and drying her eyes, with her paddle in hand Jane Lindsey again began her journey to the west end of the lake and home.

A mile's passage westward down the south shore brought her before Birch Marsh where again she paused and slowly drifted.—There before a site of dark memories and the threat of violent death Jane's thoughts began again. "The front ridge still shows the scars;— it will take time for that to heal as it will take time for our human scars to heal.

"What of this morning; what have I done? I had heard that last winter someone crossed the ice to the island. Did he fear that I would trespass; if so, why? Such simple words as, "This is private property, please stay off," would have been sufficient. Is it even his property; I wonder. He was menacing, but it was more than that. The threat was real.—Here at Birch Marsh I learned the difference and will never forget."

After turning away and looking toward home, Jane dipped her paddle crossed mid-lake and began the final segment of her morning's journey. Once again her thoughts began. "I scarcely saw his face; although we made eye contact, I doubt that I would remember him if we were to meet again? The west slope of the island was steep and his climb was slow, but there was something else about the way he moved.—As Charles later remembered what he had heard in the marsh; perhaps in time I too will remember."

Twenty minutes had passed as when Jane drew near to their cottage. After gliding the Old Town into the shallows and easing the bow onto the sand of the beach, Jane again sat in silence. Once again she shook her head as the questions came; questions that Jane Lindsey knew would haunt her thoughts.

"He was in shadow; was he afraid I might recognize him?—Who is he, and what was he doing there?"

Chapter Three

"Strange, very strange; of all places why on East Island? I haven't heard anything more these last couple weeks;—just the same it makes no sense. I'll talk to Doris; if anyone knows anything it would be she."

"Should I say here we go again?—No Jane, don't; get a grip on yourself. You're still too keyed-up from what happened at Birch Marsh and back at East Island. Steve Conway is one very fine and very brave investigative reporter, but he said it still makes his blood run cold just to look at the marsh or even at Green Hill where he hid in the grass fearing for his life.

Shaking her pretty head, Jane walked out onto the porch of the Inn, slipped into an Adirondack chair and turned her eyes to the southeast and the all too familiar scene across the lake. "Speaking of Birch Marsh, over there now in summer it is a quiet inland-lake covered by lilies and visited by the occasional brace of ducks, probably wood ducks or mallards. Soon new saplings of birch will appear; the other foliage will recover leaving no trace of the violent obscenity that transpired there. The hill behind deserves to be called Beautiful Green Hill; for it is once again at peace with its incomparable stand of Giant Blue Stem grass waving in the soft westerly breeze.—Did not a novelist earlier in the last century write of the early pioneers passing over the great prairies of North America and seeing before them, "The Sea of Grass?" I believe those were Conrad Richter's words.

"This has been fun to have the chance on my free day to drive out earlier and have the time to sit here on this turn-of-the century-porch and finally do some reading. I'll have to .do it most every Friday this summer; at least those when Dan's not on call. He should be along in a couple hours then we'll have a light lunch and be on our way to our place."

After pausing for a moment to glance at her watch, Jane again rose from her chair, swung open the porch screen door and sat down on the wooden front steps. "I can't see where there would be any harm in a quick look at the island," she thought, at the same time drawing her binoculars from her pack. "A month ago I...