The Legend of Annie Murphy by Frank Peretti Page A

new.” He found the article and brought it into focus. “This news story indicates that she was shot by Sheriff Potter while trying to escape from the jail—” He stopped short, surprised. “It’s written in the past tense, as if the shooting had occurred the day before . . . but the date of this newspaper is June seventh.”
    â€œSo Sheriff Potter is supposed to have shot Annie Murphy on June sixth,” Dr. Cooper said with a half smile.
    â€œBut Jay photographed her alive on what would have been June eighth,” said Mac.
    â€œWhich would have been the same day our friend the sheriff says he chased her, which would be a full two days after she was supposed to have been shot. And he still hasn’t shot her.”
    Mac had a thoughtful look on his face. “There’s something fishy going on here, some incorrect information.”
    â€œSo there’s still hope for my kids!”
    â€œRob, see what else you can find out about this deputy, Erskine Hatch. He may have kept a journal or records of some kind.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œAlice, anything else?”
    Alice nodded. “An artifact—direct proof of Annie Murphy’s existence.” She opened a corner cabinet and brought out an object covered with plastic. Setting it on the table, she removed the plastic, unveiling a fine wood sculpture: an old miner smoking a pipe, sitting on a keg of blasting powder. She gingerly turned the piece over to show the inscription on the bottom. “You can see her name here, ‘A. Murphy.’ Notice the crudeness of the letters and the numbers of the date. It looks like someone had to show her how to form the letters, stroke by stroke.”
    Both Mac and Dr. Cooper recognized the carving technique. They’d seen it before in the cliff above cemetery hill. “Yes,” said Dr. Cooper, “the weeping woman was carved by Annie Murphy, no doubt about it.”
    Rob had been scrolling further through the microfilm and announced, “Those photos of Annie brought something to mind. Come look at this.”
    They huddled around the microfilm viewer as Rob scrolled down to an article in the Bodine Register headlined, “Ghosts Visiting Bodine?”
    Dr. Cooper and Mac skimmed the article.
    â€œâ€˜Ghosts . . .’” Dr. Cooper read aloud. “‘. . . several ghosts sighted around the town . . . one thought to be Annie Murphy . . .’”
    Mac exclaimed, “Here you go, Jake, third paragraph: ‘the ghosts of two children are said to have appeared near the Crackerby Boardinghouse, and another, that of a young girl, in front of the court- house. Judge Crackerby emphatically denies the rumors.’”
    Dr. Cooper’s heart leaped. “Jay and Lila!” He leaned closer, carefully reading the whole article. “They were seen at the boardinghouse, the courthouse . . . on the roof of the mercantile! They’ve been all around that town!” He had to laugh with pride. “They’re trying to track down Annie Murphy! They’re retracing her steps. Way to go, kids!”
    Mac had skimmed down toward the bottom of the article. “And look at this, Jake: It says Bodine had several small earthquakes during that time. Those would have to be the same gravitational disturbances we’ve been feeling. Because the vortex joins past with present, both worlds are feeling the same disturbances.”
    Dr. Cooper read further. “‘. . . as well as several mysterious rock slides from the cliffs around town, also blamed on the visitation of Annie Murphy’s ghost.’” He shot a glance at the carving of the old miner. “So Annie Murphy’s carving away right now—a century ago.”
    Mac was getting excited. “Jake, this means there have to be more carvings. Your kids may have already found some of them.”
    â€œAnd,” Dr. Cooper added, “they’ve figured out that