Not again! Where is that music coming from? It was after two o'clock in the morning, and LeAnn was looking out the living room window towards the lake. She couldn't believe her eyes; her heart raced. There it was again, a white light floating on the boathouse walkway. Twenty-year-old LeAnn Klein had just bought Tabor Island with its almost two-hundred-year-old house and boathouse. The beautiful old home was on Namakagon Lake in northern Wisconsin. "What is that?" she whispered, scared. Did she dare go down there and see what it was? She stared at the light and could still hear the music. "Pull yourself together, LeAnn," she said out loud, walking away from the window. "This is a safe lake. There haven't been any break-ins or—" She stopped mid-sentence. The music had stopped. She ran back to the window. The light has gone. Confused and frightened, she ran up the stairs to look out her bedroom window. Still no light on the walkway. She opened the window. No music. Thunder rumbled in the distance. She needed to sleep. Closing the window, she turned and sat on her bed. Leaving the lights and her clothes on, she pulled the blankets over her head and fell asleep almost immediately. She was in a deep sleep as the white light floated back and forth on the boathouse walkway. The music began to play.