Exclusive Excerpt
I tapped the edge of the teacup and reached for the tablet Rosemary held out. Turning the screen around, I scrolled through the information before me.
“This is interesting,” I said.
Rosemary nodded. “I know. It’s the first time I heard someone mention a second ship. Everyone seems focused on the Hollow Siren, so this came as a surprise.”
I looked at the name attached to the article Rosemary found. “Everyone except Henry. You said you found the article on the university’s website?”
“Sure did,” Rosemary replied. “The historian was very well liked there. He had a few articles published by the university’s press.”
The sound of slurping and sighing made me turn my head toward Mortimer, who was enjoying a hot cup of tea beside me. He eyed the tablet in my hands with an amused expression. “Let me guess,” Mortimer said. “The articles are all about the ship.”
“Not all,” Rosemary corrected. “Some are about the family that owned it.”
Mortimer raised a brow, and she shrugged, defeated. It appeared that Mortimer had a good point—for all intents and purposes, Henry seemed to be obsessed with the Hollow Siren. I wondered what it was about it that made the historian so attached to the ship. I mean, sure, a treasure was exciting to study, but there were so many historical events in human history with mysterious pasts. Why focus on this one ship?
It was strange. Even for Henry.
I skipped ahead in the article, focusing on Rosemary again. “When did all these articles get published?”
She checked the notes she had made in a leather-bound journal and said, “Most came out in the last year or so. I can double-check when I get back to the funeral home. I left the rest of my notes with Ellie.”
Mortimer and I exchanged twin looks of awe.
“You were researching this while your mom is visiting?” Mortimer asked.
Rosemary winced. “It was a good break from the hectic energy back at home. And I couldn’t leave Ellie to run the funeral home all on her own for so long,” she explained. “What kind of business partner would I be if I did that?”
“Right, of course,” Mortimer said. I noticed the pitch of his tone bordered on the skeptical and I had to agree. It was certain that Rosemary diving into researching a random death and burying herself in her work had a lot more to do with her needing a break from her mother than with Ellie requiring help. In the time I’ve known the two funeral home owners, I had yet to see Ellie requiring assistance. She was a force to be reckoned with.
I smiled at Rosemary, swallowing down the million questions I had. Family was a lot. I knew that better than anyone, and if Rosemary needed a break, then I was more than happy to provide it.
Putting the tablet down, I leafed open one of the books Mortimer had brought with him when the two Wardens came by this morning. The title page was promising, a bold script spelling out “Famous Disappearances in the West.” The Hollow Siren was listed prominently in the third spot on the table of contents, and I quickly flipped the pages to reach the chapter that belonged to it. There were a good twenty pages devoted to the ship and several black and white photographs displayed throughout the dense text passages. I recognized one of the images as the photo of the ship that Henry opened his presentation with on the weekend. My heart stopped momentarily at the memory of the historian.
Shaking off thoughts of Henry, I put all my attention on the book splayed open on the coffee table in front of me. My legs tingled and I had to rearrange them, sitting up higher on my knees.
“Hmm,” I mused as I read one passage.
Mortimer pulled his reading glasses down on his nose and looked down at the page. “Find anything interesting?”
“Maybe. This book says that the Whitmores were known for being secretive, going as far as to hire actors that resembled them to distract the public from themselves.”
Mortimer’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I didn’t realize they were so famous.”
“Me neither,” I agreed. “Although it’s possible they were simply eccentric.”
“I guess we’ll never really know now,” Rosemary said.
Frowning, I perused the rest of the article but wasn’t able to unearth any more than we already knew. According to the historical papers we’d found, the Hollow Siren departed from the west coast on March 16th, just as Henry said it did. The two couples on board were experts in sailing and the men had even been known to dive in dangerous tides and beat some of the most extreme world records. The Whitmores’ past made it all the more bizarre that they somehow managed to vanish in the water, though I supposed there was no messing with nature. The ocean took what the ocean wanted, or that was what Mortimer said when I told him about this part of the sordid tale.
Aside from the photograph taken not long before their departure, there were records of reports from the docks of crates being loaded onto the Hollow Siren the night prior. Some of the reports stated that the crates contained diving equipment and provisions, while others said they were full of gold and jewels. Considering the times and the little information we could gather about the ship; it was hard to establish the truth behind the words.
On that date of the year 1911, the ship set off in perfect weather. But less than a week later, a storm was said to have been spotted within the ship’s original course, and it disappeared, never to be recovered. For decades, people speculated on what may have happened and the Hollow Siren attracted a sort of cult following of historians that all wished to uncover the truth. No one did. Of course.
The mysterious aura surrounding the ship was infectious, and I found myself getting dragged into the stories, making my own speculations about what may have occurred.
I was in the midst of one of these theories when a loud knock startled me back to the room. I glanced from Rosemary to Mortimer, asking, “Were Finn and Ellie planning to stop by?”
“Not that I know of,” Rosemary said. “Ellie is knee-deep in paperwork back at the funeral home.”
“And Finn is doing a double shift at the hospital,” Mortimer said. “Apparently their head mortician quit, so he has to fill in.”
Grimacing, I stood up and walked out of the living room, taking a sharp right toward the front door. On the way, I passed by Theo, who was too busy polishing off a bowl of whipped cream to notice me. The rascal was going to pay for that later. Cats may not be allergic to the stuff like changelings were in human form, but no one could handle that much dairy without consequences. I rolled my eyes, preparing for a night of caring for the furry troublemaker while he spent hours with an upset stomach.
Padding past the kitchen, I neared the front door and rose on my tippy toes to peer through the small window in its center. My heart rate slowed. It was only the mailman.
I opened the door gingerly, a wide smile stretching my lips.
“Hi, Danny.”
The mailman grinned. “Hey, Lyra. Got something for you,” he said, handing me a small package wrapped in brown packing paper. “Needs a signature.”
I eyed the package. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember ordering anything recently. Most of the supplies for the morgue had already arrived earlier this week, and I confiscated my credit card from Theo after I caught him ordering ten large pizzas on a random Tuesday. I wonder what it is.
Signing for the delivery, I thanked Danny and waited until he drove off to rip into the package. Under the paper was a slim notebook with a leather cover and a long leather string that wrapped around it several times. Slowly, I unwrapped the string, my eyes widening as I read the name scratched into the front page. Shutting the door behind me, I returned to the living in complete stupor. The manor drifted by me in a blur and when I reached the others, I had forgotten they were there at all.
“What do you have there?” Mortimer asked.
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering between my temples. Fingers slick with sweat, I put the notebook on the coffee table, taking a step backward. “It’s Henry’s journal,” I answered. “I think he sent it to me before he died.”
“Why would he do that?”
Shivers tripped down my spine. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “But if he sent this to me, then it could only mean one thing. Henry Barlow knew he was in danger, and he needed to keep this notebook safe. Whatever is in here, it could be the key to solving his murder.”
Copyright © A.N. Sage with permission from Oliver-Heber Books.
Mistbrook Manor #2
When life gives you mysteries, add a little magic and stir.
When funeral home director and secret sleuth Lyra Moore gets a mysterious call from a hidden society of undertakers—her peaceful life of tending roses and evading dark fae princes takes a dramatic turn.
A shocking death at a historical presentation sparks whispers of a long-lost treasure tied to a sunken ship. Between cryptic threats from a shadow prince seeking her hand in marriage, a changeling cat acting strangely, and a killer lurking too close for comfort, Lyra must decide if solving this mystery is worth the price.
As the lines blur between friends, foes, and unearthly suitors, the case grows more perilous—and personal—than she ever imagined.
Will Lyra find the truth behind the treasure, outsmart a murderer, and keep her heart intact? Or will the shadows she has spent decades escaping consume her first?
Prepare for magic, murder, and mayhem in this enchanting paranormal cozy mystery that will leave you guessing until the very last page!
Romance | Mystery Cozy [Oliver-Heber Books, On Sale: May 13, 2025, e-Book , / ]
A.N. Sage is a bestselling, award-winning author of mystery and fantasy novels. She has spent most of her life waiting to meet a witch, vampire, or at least get haunted by a ghost. In between failed seances and many questionable outfit choices, she has developed a keen eye for the extra-ordinary.
A.N. spends her free time reading and binge-watching television shows in her pajamas. Currently, she resides in Toronto, Canada with her husband who is not a creature of the night and their daughter who just might be.
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