By Jim Anderson
At first light, Tom anchored the pontoon boat off the southwest tip of Spirit Island. He hadn’t fished this spot for years. Yellow House Point, locals called it.
He put out his line and waited for the perch.
Lights came on in the two-story house. All of them at once. The front screen-door creaked, and a woman glided out in a white terrycloth robe.
Just that, he knew. Nothing more.
She stared across the water. Tom’s hands ached. His heart raced. Somehow, even at that distance and in that light, he saw the bruises around her throat.
His line jerked.
“I write to keep a light on.” – the writer