The Legend of Annie Murphy by Frank Peretti

the ruins that remained. “Annie and the kids would be moving about in the town and relating to it the way it once was, am I right?”
    â€œYes, especially Annie,” Mac replied. “Though she’s between both worlds, she would mostly relate to the physical layout of the past where she’s making the carvings.”
    Rob clicked on a microfilm viewer on a side counter. “And here’s the outcome of that auction, Professor.” He scrolled through old, microfilmed pages from the Bodine Register , the local newspaper of that time. A headline read, “Judge Crackerby Highest Bidder,” and the smaller headline added, “Crackerby Takes Ownership of Murphy Mine.”
    â€œWhat about this sheriff, Dustin Potter?” Dr. Cooper asked.
    â€œThere are several mentions of him in the Bodine Register ,” Rob replied, “as well as a record of his election as sheriff in 1874, but I haven’t found any mention of what eventually happened to him. Strangely, he seems to disappear from the pages of history not long after June eighth, 1885.”
    Mac and Dr. Cooper looked at each other.
    â€œDisappeared from history or from the past altogether?” Cooper wondered.
    Mac was intense. “If he never returned to the past, it’s doubtful the kids ever made it back to the present.”
    Dr. Cooper’s eyes were set like steel. “We’ve got to know.”
    Mac turned to Rob. “You’ve found nothing about him after June eighth?”
    Rob scrolled further through the microfilm. “I did find one clue for you, although you may not like what it suggests.” He found the news article and pointed it out.
    Dr. Cooper read the name. “Hatch. Deputy Erskine Hatch.”
    Rob explained, “This and some other articles tell how he was appointed sheriff in Bodine the week following June eighth.” He looked over his shoulder at them. “This seems to suggest that Sheriff Potter was no longer around.”
    Alice added with sadness, “I wish we had better news for you, but as near as we’ve been able to uncover, the judge became a rich man, and the sheriff never returned to Bodine. As far as anyone knows, Annie Murphy was shot by Sheriff Potter and buried right before June eighth, 1885.”
    There was a knock on the door. Rob moved quickly to answer it. Another student stuck his head in and presented Rob with a small package marked “One-Stop Photo.”
    â€œThe pictures from the night camera!” Dr.
    Cooper exclaimed.
    â€œIn less than an hour!” the student proclaimed proudly. “I had them put a rush on it.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Dr. Cooper received the package from Rob and tore it open. He pulled out the stack of photographs and froze, his eyes narrowing. His gaze locked on the first photo, and he felt his insides tightening like a drum. He handed it to Mac and then gazed with even more intensity at the second photo. He passed that one along and examined the third, then the fourth. By now they were all looking at the photos, passing them around in awestruck silence until Alice finally whispered, “My word . . . it’s Annie.”
    Two of the photos were blurry as if taken in a rush, but some were crystal clear and showed a ghostly figure, a young woman with red hair and frightened eyes.
    Mac was stunned. “Incredible! Absolutely incredible!”
    Cooper looked up from the photos and mused, “But consider this: These pictures establish that she was alive the morning of the eighth.” He looked at Rob. “So she couldn’t have been shot before the eighth.”
    â€œAnd certainly not by Sheriff Potter,” said Mac, “because he was thrown into the present before he got the chance.”
    Dr. Cooper asked Rob, “Do you have anything more about Annie’s death? Any details at all?”
    Rob scrolled through the microfilm. “There’s one more article with nothing