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in the cold wind and waited. No one came.
    Hannah glanced around at the shrubs blowing violently against the white fences and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. This was not a safe place for anyone to be alone in the dark. Feeling like a fool, Hannah blinked back tears. She knew that both Jon and Sarah had been right. This was lunacy.
    She got up from the table and pulled a flashlight from her backpack. Following the flashlight beam, she quickly made her way back to her car. Hannah felt safer inside the locked car and decided to wait a bit longer. But no one came.
    Finally giving up, she turned on the ignition and drove back to the Hammett House. She was grateful to find the lobby empty as she walked inside, as she had no desire to speak to anyone and no interest in forced pleasantries. The night’s chill clung to her bones, and the travels of the day had caught up with her. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a good night’s sleep in a warm bed.
    Hannah walked into her room and turned on the overhead light. Instinctively, she knew the room was different than it had been when she left. Someone had been there while she was gone.
    She slowly set down her backpack and glanced around the room, seeing nothing out of order. Perhaps the maid had simply been back after Hannah had left for Aquinnah. But why would a maid return to a room where the guest had just checked in that afternoon?
    Hannah’s eyes zeroed in on the bed and the quilt, where she saw a sheet of paper set against the array of pillows at the top of the bed.
    She walked to the bed, expecting to find an advertisement for the inn’s services, or perhaps a breakfast menu. But she could hear her heart beating in her chest as she picked up the paper. Before she even read the words on the page, she was certain that the paper had nothing to do with the inn.
    Her hand started to shake as she held the page in her hand. It was an old and yellowed newspaper clipping, an article from The Boston Globe in January of 1884. The headline screamed out news of a shipwreck that had happened off the coast of Gay Head two nights before. The City of Columbus had run aground on the shelf of rock known as Devil’s Bridge, and at least 100 people had perished.
    Hannah put the paper back onto her bed and sat down next to it. Who would come into her room and leave this for her to find? Was the Hammett House involved in some sort of presentation that was being held on this wreck? Perhaps someone had merely dropped the clipping. But why would that someone have been in her room and standing next to her bed?
    She picked up the bedside phone and called the Hammett House’s owner, Grace Pease. Pease answered almost immediately.
    “ Hello? This is Grace Pease.”
    “ Ms. Pease, this is Hannah Forrester.”
    “ Oh, hello Ms. Forrester.”
    “ I’m sorry to be calling you so late…”
    “ Not a problem,” Pease answered. “What can I do for you?”
    “ I just wondered if you or perhaps the maid had been in my room since I checked in this afternoon.”
    “ No, I haven’t. And Mrs. Rogers won’t be back until tomorrow morning to clean. She cleaned your room before you got here today. Was something unsatisfactory?”
    “ No, no, everything was great, thank you. I just found a paper on the bed I thought you or Mrs. Rogers may have misplaced.”
    “ What kind of paper?”
    “ A newspaper article.”
    “ I’ll ask Mrs. Rogers in the morning, but I can’t imagine why she would have been carrying newspapers around while cleaning the rooms. Please accept my apologies, though. I’m sorry that a mess was left in your room.”
    “ No, it wasn’t a mess at all; please don’t think I’m complaining.” The last thing Hannah wanted to do was get the maid in trouble with her boss. “It’s not a problem. You’re just sure that no one was in my room after I checked in?”
    “ Of course I’m sure, Ms. Forrester. We respect our guest’s privacy. And no one has a