The Portrait of Doreene Gray by Esri Allbritten

to have been swept clean of leaves. In addition, several long gouges marked the soil next to the nearest tree. He put the phone to his ear. “Michael? What was it Lupita said she saw out in the woods?”
    â€œSpirits of the dead, crawling across the ground.”
    Angus stared at the gouges. “Right. See you back at the house.”
    *   *   *
    When Michael returned to the house, he found Angus in Suki’s room, looking over her shoulder while she uploaded photos of Enrico and Maureene to her laptop.
    Michael shut the bedroom door and joined them in looking at pictures. “Those two look cozy.”
    Angus nodded. “Maureene hugged Enrico like she hadn’t seen him in years. They were still talking when we left.”
    â€œI know it’s a long shot,” Michael said, “but do you think he’s the mystery father of Maureene’s daughter?”
    â€œI was wondering the same thing,” Suki said. “If only Maureene had brought out a box of baby pictures while they were sitting there.”
    Angus took a seat on the bed and leaned back on his arms. “If Enrico and Maureene are such great friends, why did he tell us he wanted to speak to Doreene?”
    Suki clicked to a new picture. “Oh, Doreene knows him, too. I could tell she recognized him. Why else would she delete the photo?”
    Michael bent to get a better view of the laptop, where Suki zoomed in on the lighted window of Maureene’s cottage. “She looks so happy. I didn’t see much resemblance between the sisters before, but now it’s clear.”
    Suki cropped the photo and saved the new version. “Show him the picture you took, Angus.”
    â€œRight.” Angus stood and dug in his pocket for his phone. “It was while I was talking to you, Michael, that I looked down and saw this.”
    Michael squinted at the phone’s screen, which showed a rather overexposed flash photo. “Looks like dirt, and the base of a tree. What am I supposed to be seeing?”
    â€œIf you’ll notice, there are no leaves on the ground in that area.” Angus pointed. “Also, see those two grooves in the dirt?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œThose could be the marks left by a skeleton dragging itself across the ground, scraping leaves as it went. Spirits of the dead, Michael.”
    â€œWouldn’t there be ten grooves, in that case?” Michael asked. “One for each skeletal finger?”
    Angus made an impatient noise and put his phone away. “Maybe it’s missing some finger bones, or these are from its knees.”
    â€œPelvis,” Suki said absently. “That’s the heaviest, and it has sharp edges.”
    â€œRegardless,” Angus said, “I clipped a pen to the nearest bush. We’ll go back tomorrow and take pictures during the day. I hope we can find the place. It was a nice pen.”
    â€œWe should get some of that stretchy plastic ribbon people tie around trees and stuff,” Michael said. “Wonder what that’s called?”
    â€œFlagging tape,” Suki said.
    â€œLet me guess, you dated a hunter once,” Michael said.
    â€œSurveyor.”
    Angus looked at his watch. “I’m going to my room. We did some good work today.”
    Michael followed him out. “Wait until you hear this shipwreck story, Angus. It’s really tragic.”
    â€œI look forward to it.”
    Suki got up and shut the door behind them. Then she went back to her laptop and pulled up one of the best photos of Enrico, where he had momentarily turned toward the window. “I swear I’ve seen this guy somewhere else,” she muttered.

 
    Eleven
    Angus woke sometime in the middle of the night. He lay in the dark room with the vague notion that he had heard a thump. Then he got out of bed and went to the window.
    The sky was dark, probably with clouds, and showed no hint of moon or stars. The outline of a