A voice called out in the darkness, a whisper on the wind, from the recesses of his mind. A plea of help from a sister whom was his anchor.
"Come find me, brother. You were always good at figuring out the clues. Please don't dwell in the past, you must protect Jay. Come find me..."
Mark's eyes flew opened, wide and wild as he looked towards the door of the cabin. Which stood wide open, as if someone had just walked in and just forgot to close it. The cold wind came screaming in, the fire light flickered, then died. Plunging the room into darkness
Jo came running into the livingroom after hearing a crash, almost colliding with Mark. Steady hands landed on his shoulders, Jo looked into the eyes of a man on a mission.
Wondering what could have happened he tried to read what he saw in those eyes. Not sure if he was reading it right but then it clued in when he saw what had fallen over.
It was the painting that Mary had perchased the day of his rescue/escape. The one that was done by their great, great, great grandmother Marybeth ( ofcourse they didn't find that out till later). The painting had been stolen from the family home in the city. The McColly's had kept their home in the city for when they had to go to the city and stay a while.
She was known to all as sweet Beth, also the women who left clues to a secret hidden, no one knows.
That is what Mark and Mary were working on the day that they saw little Jo. The day that changed everything, the day that he and his sister made a choice.