As Carolyn went into her bedroom for the night, she smiled at Captain Gregg's portrait hanging on the wall. She prepared for bed. But instead of turning in right away, she put on a bathrobe and went out on the widow's walk.

"Good evening, Mrs. Muir."

"Good evening, Captain. I assume dinner with Martha was your doing?"

"She was more than willing to accommodate."

"Then our visitor meets with your approval?"

"Indeed. And you may refer to the young man as our guest."

"And you approve of Candy and Neil asking for outside assistance?"

Captain Gregg considered the question. "Yes. Especially given what he said about those . . . blasted bilge rats."

"Do you think they really . . ."

Captain Gregg bowed his head. "They are certainly capable of such heinous behavior." Then he snorted. "Though that lily-livered coward would have given them anything they asked for to save his own hide."

"He did leave Gull Cottage to me."

"He wouldn't have dared let it go up for auction."

"No, I suppose not. Though since he never married or had children, everyone assumed it would. Even me."

"Yes, well . . . Perhaps at the end, he realized amassing great wealth is not the goal, merely the means to an end."

"You know, I never thought about it."

"How do you mean?"

"Who gets the proceeds of the auction?"

"I am not sure. However, I shall check on that now."

Captain Gregg disappeared. Carolyn pulled her bathrobe a little tighter. She heard a noise behind her. Turning, she saw Michael and waved him out to join her.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Well, Mrs. Muir, like I said earlier: protecting you is my first priority. Kitt told me you were up here, so I figured I would check in. Make sure you're okay."

"Oh, I'm fine. I like to come up here."

"Okay." Michael looked around. "Odd place for a porch, though."

Carolyn smiled. "It's called a widow's walk. A place for a sea captain's wife to watch for her husband's safe return. And hope that he does."

"You have an interesting home, Mrs. Muir."

"It was built in the 1860s by Captain Daniel Gregg."

"Relative of Claymore Gregg?"

"Great-uncle. Captain Gregg left behind a lot of things when he died: ships' logs, journals, that sort of thing. I used them when I wrote my book about him."

"I'll have to pick up a copy and read it." Michael grinned at her. "Perhaps I can even get the author to sign it."

Captain Gregg appeared, quite close to Carolyn.

"Michael, I am again sensing that anomalous reading. And before you ask, no, there doesn't appear to be any danger to Mrs. Muir. Though it is closer to her than to you."

Michael scanned the widow's walk, pausing momentarily when he looked where Captain Gregg was standing. He also looked out into the darkness, in case there was something nearby.

"Definitely have to ask April to look into that. Good night, Mrs. Muir."

After he had left, Captain Gregg said, "That infernal machine can sense me." Then, more thoughtfully, he added. "And possibly that young man can as well. Neither can see or hear me. But they are – somehow – aware of me, nonetheless."

"Perhaps we should formally introduce you to them."

"Perhaps."

"Oh, and did you get an answer, Captain? About the proceeds of the auction?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. The money was split evenly amongst the town, the seaman's home, and a scholarship fund to the University of Maine. Probably wanted to ensure everyone spoke nicely about him after he was gone."

"I always said Claymore was a decent man deep down."

Captain Gregg snorted. "Claymore lacked depth enough to hide even a half-decent man. And now, Mrs. Muir, you should go to bed."

"Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Mrs. Muir."

Captain Gregg bowed to her. She smiled and nodded her head in return. Then she went inside and to bed. Captain Gregg stared out into the darkness down at the black car in the moonlight, its red light slowly moving back and forth.