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Chief Bennett continued to study her for a moment before he released his hold on the porcelain mug. He then slowly slid the file across the table. Since they were near the restroom at the back of the coffee shop, Chief Bennett waited until someone disappeared inside before following up.
"I made the copy myself, so no one knows why you wanted to meet with me," Chief Bennett revealed as he carefully surveyed those inside the café. "You and I both know how rumors spread, and I'd rather not see your parents hurt by your…"
"Actions?" Phoebe gave the chief a sad smile. "I'm telling Mom and Dad tonight over dinner that I'm looking into what happened all those years ago."
Chief Bennett immediately began to shake his head in response, but she held up her hand to prevent him from expressing his displeasure and disagreement with her decision once more.
"You should know that Chloe and I received an anonymous message through the Graveside Mysteries' website that someone saw an apparition of Jenna walking alongside the back road that leads to my family's pond." Phoebe hated lying, but it was the only way some of the residents of Bar Harbor would talk about what had happened that winter. "I don't want to be viewed as a hypocrite to my audience, Chief. I'll investigate the sighting just as I would any other death related to folklore or an urban legend."
"Look for yourself then, Phoebe," Chief Bennett advised with displeasure as he pointed toward the folder. "Before you go around alarming people about some quack wanting to stir up trouble, read over the report. Your sister fell through the ice, hitting the back of her head in the process. Sadly, Jenna couldn't find her way back to the surface."
Phoebe slid the manilla folder off the table, holding it in her hands.
What if the chief was right?
What if, buried within the official account of Jenna’s tragic accident, Phoebe discovered something even more disturbing? Such as the possibility that her parents had been right all along—her visions of the dead were merely symptoms of a fragile psyche.
"Chief, would you mind ordering me a Chai tea while I read through this?" Phoebe asked, shifting her gaze from the folder to him. She didn't want him studying her as she read over the details. One side of his mustache lifted in understanding. "Here. Take my card and—"
"Put your credit card away, Phoebe." Chief Bennett pushed back his chair. "My treat."
Phoebe waited until the chief was standing in line and drawn into a conversation by a local before opening the file. The first thing that stood out was her sister's name. Jenna Marie Bennett. The typed letters fit perfectly in the first squared section.
Skimming the basic facts of Jenna's personal information, Phoebe finally found more pertinent details on the second page. Chief Bennett had documented that a 911 call had been placed at twenty-three minutes after ten on a Sunday morning. He arrived to find Lilith Burrow standing in the driveway. She was emotional and hard to understand, but she eventually led him through a thick patch of woods to the family pond.
Phoebe's chest tightened as she read the chief's objective account of arriving at the pond. She could picture the scene so vividly—her father cradling Jenna's lifeless body, frantic and desperate as he called out her name over and over again.
The report stated the ice had been disturbed in several areas. Phoebe recalled how her father had run to his boat covered with a tarp. He had managed to cut the small anchor loose and use it to break the ice. All he could think about at that moment was reaching his daughter. There was an asterisk next to that specific line to direct the reader to Kenneth Burrow's statement about using the anchor to punch holes in the ice.
Phoebe released a shaky breath.
She could still hear the noise of the anchor slamming down on the ice repeatedly as if it were happening right at this moment. Her heart ached for her father, knowing the torment he still carried with him from that day.
To her knowledge, Kenneth Burrow had never returned to the pond.
Phoebe was positive the only reason her parents hadn't sold the land was due to not wanting anyone else to own the place where their oldest daughter had died.
Chief Bennett returned with her chai tea. He took a moment to search her features, no doubt trying to gauge her emotional state after reading over portions of the report. Phoebe managed to smile her appreciation as she accepted the teacup.
The warmth of the porcelain seeped into her chilled fingers.
"I'll just be another minute," Phoebe said softly, not wanting to discuss any of the details just yet.
She could have opted to read the report in private, but that would not have afforded her the ability to ask relevant questions as they came to her. Fortunately, the chief didn’t seem to mind. It was evident that he was hoping she would agree with his initial findings.
Phoebe steeled herself and continued reading, though each word seemed to drag her back to that awful day. The report was thorough but devoid of emotion. It clinically relayed the facts of that tragic morning—the 911 call, her parents' frantic state, and the evidence at the scene. In no way could it capture the anguish of her family being ripped apart.
Phoebe couldn't stop the tremor in her hand as she turned to the last page of the report—the autopsy details. The clinical language seemed so at odds with the sister she had loved. The cause of death was listed as asphyxia due to submersion, with a secondary head injury. The report noted no other contusions and bruising on Jenna's body.
The commentary went on to list various internal observations about Jenna's lungs and brain, confirming the drowning. Phoebe skimmed over the anatomical descriptions until an odd detail caught her eye—dirt and debris found under the fingernails on both hands.
Phoebe read the line again, but the dirt underneath Jenna's fingernails made no sense. The night before, Phoebe and Jenna had given each other a manicure while watching a movie. Jenna's nails had been a bright cherry red, flawlessly polished. There was no way Jenna had accumulated dirt under them in just a day.
"Chief, it says here dirt and debris were found underneath Jenna's fingernails.” Phoebe glanced up from the file. "That's not possible. We had just painted our nails the night before. We even soaked our fingers in warm water mixed with lemon juice to soften our cuticles."
Chief Bennett stroked his mustache thoughtfully, but it was clear to her that he was about to produce some type of excuse to make such a discovery a non-event.
"I assume the sediment and organic material came from the pond, Phoebe. Probably just enough that the coroner needed to record such a detail by law. It happens, but there is no need to draw conclusions based on natural occurrences."
