A Genealogy Mystery Series
Mystery
Date Published: March 5, 2024
Publisher: Harbor Lane Books, LLC.
In a bid to heal from the grief of a personal loss, forensic genealogist, RaeJean Hunter, takes on a straightforward case —identify human remains found on a nearby college campus, believed to be the 180-year-old remains of Mary Rogers, a woman who died mysteriously in 1841 and was believed to have been buried in the nearby cemetery that had washed away. It should be simple enough, a project to get her back in the game.
Unfortunately, it quickly becomes anything but. In fact, it becomes downright dangerous.
Someone doesn't want RaeJean to investigate the puzzling death of the woman whose death inspired Edgar Allan Poe's "The Mystery of Marie Roget." As she follows clues through four states and discovers living family members who both help and hinder her search, she quickly realizes that the secrets of Mary Rogers' demise were never meant to be exposed.
What lengths will someone go to keep the truth buried in the past? As threats escalate and RaeJean and her family's lives become endangered, she's forced to follow every lead and use every skill she has to find the answers she needs before it's too late. Using DNA from two famous New England families, historical data, modern genealogical techniques, and a little guidance from a seemingly mystical antique desk, RaeJean takes on the cold case despite being given every reason to abandon it.
After all, what truths have been hidden for 180 years that would be worth bribery, kidnapping, and even murder?
RaeJean Hunter is about to find out.
Exerpt
Chapter One
Come on, girl! It’ll be fun.” It was mid March and I stood in my bathing suit on the edge of our pool in Wyncote, Pennsylvania. Our corgi, Sophie, watched from ten feet away, ears !at against her head. Her look suggested she wasn’t joining me. She didn’t like water, never mind "fifty-eight-degree water. It would be shocking.
Every year, my husband, Sam, and I vied for the title of First-In-The-Pool. Today, I was determined to swim and win regardless of the pool temperature.
“It’s now or never!” I leaped in, submerged, and then in a split second, shot straight up out of the frigid water. “It’s cold! It’s cold! It’s cold!”
Sophie circled the pool, barking as I splashed my way to the steps and climbed out.
“Phew! What a wake up call, Sophie!” I toweled my hair while she licked my wet legs.
“You win!” Sam shouted from the back door, saluting me with his steaming coffee mug.
“I’ll be in as soon as I dry of.”
He grinned, disappearing back inside.
Five minutes later, I grabbed the hot mug as the last fragrant squirts of Cinnabon coffee gurgled from the Keurig. Something had changed in me overnight. It could have been the promise of spring, with the leaves budding, but I had a hunch it had something to do with the phone call from late yesterday afternoon. A potential client needed a genealogist.
Whatever it was, I felt alive again. Smiling, I joined Sam in the breakfast nook.
“You look happy. Finally beat me to the "first dip. How was it?”
“Bloody cold.” I sipped my coffee in silence. The strong brew made my lips tingle. Or maybe it was simply rekindled optimism.
I, RaeJean O’Leary Hunter, a notorious workaholic, hadn’t entered my home office since the mental fog set in six months ago. Life’s current had pulled me under. Today, I’d resurfaced, gasping for a breath of fresh air.
Sam gazed at me over the rim of his mug. “Thinking about returning to work?”
“Actually, I am. I received a voicemail late yesterday about a case that could be a good segue back to work. Easy, I think.” My stomach $uttered at the prospect, but I knew I had to take the plunge, not unlike diving into the frigid pool in order to feel like a winner again. I smiled to myself.
Sam grinned. “That’s great. Maybe we should resume the office remodel.”
“I’d like that.” We’d purchased the house as is and had been remodeling for a while. Actually, it was more of a restoration, but we’d suspended our work when I got pregnant. If I took the case, I’d need a workspace other than our library. 2 The Desk from Hoboken
“Great. I’ll call the contractor.” He kissed me and disappeared into his office.
After rinsing my cup, I scrambled upstairs with the intent of checking on my neglected office and preparing it for the work crew. I rushed past the door to the room where I’d wallowed for months. After two steps, I froze. A lingering compulsion sabotaged my plan. Instead, I stepped back and entered the unlit nursery.
Scooping up the stuffed bunny that Sam had bought the day we’d learned I was pregnant, I sat in the Boston rocker, reliving the months after our loss. The tiny bunny sprawled across my lap as I agonized over the only thing I tended to worry about since that time, the secret I’d kept from Sam.
Determined to move on, I sucked in a breath and glanced down at Sophie. “Big girls don’t cry.”
It worked. Today, I didn’t shed a tear.
I stood, tossing the toy onto the chair. “Let’s go.” I followed the dog as she padded out the door.
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