The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse

by Jack Dey

  “Of course. It is only to be expected, Mr Tyson, when our daughters make wrong choices. Be assured we will remove the problem with the utmost sensitivity to your privacy.”

  Dillon hung up the phone and pondered with amazement how easy it was to be rid of such an embarrassing situation; and with this new revelation causing his anxiety to rise, he grabbed the car keys and staggered for the car... he needed to keep $500.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 49

  Marguerite loved sleeping on her stomach, but the baby was pressing on her wherever she turned and couldn’t get comfortable. Katarzyna had gone to school while Majiv and Mr Lieberman were at work and Ima had gone down for an early midday nap, leaving Marguerite feeling alone, claustrophobic, fat and very unattractive lying around inside the apartment. Ungainly, she rolled over onto her side, staring at Katarzyna’s empty bed, but the baby objected and kicked her every time she moved as if it had to resettle after each change. Ima had assured her the baby's actions and placement in the womb at this stage of development were typically that of a girl.

  When Marguerite’s unoccupied mind turned to the chance meeting this morning with the stalking stranger, a shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the unimpressive dark features of his severe face. She had first seen him in the customer queue at the bakery and his demeanour was one of someone who was trying to place her in a jigsaw puzzle... What did he want from her and why was he so intense? If she was an underaged pregnancy, what was it to him? People like him judged without knowledge and had no idea of the circumstances behind her situation and she wasn’t about to torture and kill her baby just because it was a product of deceit.

  The day was dragging and Marguerite’s mind felt numb, yet the more she thought, the less things made sense. Glancing to the second-floor window, the curtain had been pulled back and the warm sun was streaming in and she felt like she needed some fresh air. Maybe she would take a short stroll while Ima slept, giving the baby and herself some much needed exercise. Pushing herself to her elbows and then struggling for her feet, the baby objected and kicked her again.

  “Okay, Mummy gets the hint, little one.”

  Feeding her arms through a lime green cardigan, Marguerite left the light woollen fabric open at the front with the buttons undone, nimbly protecting her shoulders against the late spring breezes. The buttons wouldn’t do up over the baby, anyway. Then she pulled on some elastic waisted long pants over her house dress and tucked it in. “Well, at least I look like I feel,” she conceded, checking her reflection in the bedroom mirror.

  Quietly creeping down the stairs and into the entryway of the apartment, Marguerite checked for noises, satisfied Ima was still resting. The door opened slowly, silently gliding on the heavy hinges and as she stepped cautiously to the sidewalk, Marguerite checked up and down the street. Satisfied no one was watching, she pulled the door closed and waddled breathlessly down the street. The baby was heavy in her womb and she struggled for breath, panting hard even at a gentle walking pace, but the sun was warm on her back and it made her feel better immediately.

  Her heart was hammering at the exertion and as people gawked, she wondered what she looked like to passing strangers... probably an awkward sight, she conceded. When she’d walked about two hundred yards from the apartment, Marguerite decided she’d had enough and turned around on the spot, facing the opposite direction with the safety of her home easily observable from where she stood.

  *~*~*~*

  About to solve his first case, Willis smiled to himself, imagining a stream of shining accolades gurgling from the boss of the CIB and over his deserving persona. Daydreaming as he walked to the unmarked car with Roy, Willis assumed this would be the start of a heroic career and his last day playing peek-a-boo with Missing Person’s files.

  A new, unmarked grey Chevy Belair shone even in the CIB building’s undercover parking area and as Roy thrust the key into the solid door, the door locking stalk popped up on the inside, indicating the door could be opened and access gained. Threading his lanky frame into the vehicle and leaning across the saloon seat, Roy reached for the passenger side to unlock Willis’ door. As the two slightly built men took their seats, the new vehicle’s suspension settled under their weight and soon two reverberating booms chased around the parking area, with the driver and passenger barriers slamming shut in unison.

  Roy fumbled with the key and inserted it into the ignition and twisted it, cranking the big Chevrolet V8 engine. With an enthusiastic whir, the big engine turned over and then caught, filling the undercover garage with a youthful roar. Roy pushed the gas pedal and the engine responded quickly, searching for the open road and to demonstrate the high speeds it was more than capable of producing. With the strong aroma of new interior leather making his eyes water, Willis had already wound down his window and Roy quickly followed suit. Eager to get started, Roy pulled on a steering column lever while the heavy vehicle jumped as the transmission found forward gear, straining against the vehicle brakes and when the parking brake was released, the car lurched forward in response. Pushing down on the throttle, the new police car purred and easily climbed the slight gradient out of the car park and onto the main street.

  After weaving their way through heavy city traffic, the grey Chevy eventually turned into Crescent Street. “Is this where you live?” Roy asked with a frown.

  “Yeah, down toward the other end,” Willis responded. “Slow down. That’s the bakery she was working at,” Willis disclosed.

  Roy stared into the window, craning his neck. He could see a crowd of people lined up inside the shopfront.

  “They sell great pastries,” Willis bragged, as the car slowly ambled past.

  “Really?!” Roy declared, as if he was talking to a simpleton.

  “My place is just there and the girl lives... well, what do we have here?” Willis pointed to a girl waddling down the sidewalk. “That’s her!” Willis exclaimed excitedly.

  Roy pulled up beside the girl and commanded, “Marguerite Anne Dillon?”

  Marguerite’s shocked expression stared back in terror. “Who are you?! What do you want?!” she panicked, looking to the front door of the apartment still one hundred yards away.

  “My name is Senior Constable Roy and this is Constable Willis. We have a Missing Person's bulletin out for you and we understand that you are a minor. Carnal knowledge carries a jail term in this state,” Roy stated emotionlessly, both getting out of the car.

  Marguerite searched for an escape route and began to pant heavily as the two men surrounded her, pulling her toward the car. “Please! Leave me alone! I am happy here with my new family. Don’t take me back to my father. He will kill me!” Marguerite pleaded. She began to scream even louder, somehow hoping to attract the attention of Ima and safety.

  The two policemen handled her forcefully, shoving her into the back of the vehicle and forcing her to land heavily onto the bench seat until eventually the door slammed shut and locked with finality. The man who’d recognised her earlier that morning climbed in next to her while Marguerite screamed, trying frantically to open the door, but it wasn’t going to budge.

  Attempting to quieten Marguerite’s tirade, Roy bellowed, “SHUDDUP!”

  But as Marguerite watched the apartment door slip past, a final desperate scream filled the vehicle interior, feeling her new life ebbing hopelessly by. Stunned into desperate silence, Marguerite turned in her seat and watched her security drifting away as the apartment door disappeared and the grey Chevy drove swiftly out of the street. Shocked and whimpering, Marguerite could only imagine what horrors awaited her, worrying desperately for her baby's safety.

  *~*~*~*

  Ima’s little round frame broke into the bakery shopfront, her face red with the exertion of her panicked run and began desperately searching around the crowded room. Majiv noticed the strange appearance of Ima into the bakery, knowing she didn’t come down into the business unless there was an emergency.

  “Eleazar!
Eleazar!" Ima shouted, terrified.

  The crowd began to murmur and stare at the woman.

  Mr Lieberman entered the shopfront amongst the crowd. “What is it, Ima?!”

  “Marguerite is gone! Tell me you have her down here,” Ima pleaded.

  Mr Lieberman sighed heavily, anguish written in his eyes. “She is not here... the young man yesterday. It has to be related.”

  “What should we do, Eleazar? Do we call the police?” Ima entreated, her concern mounting.

  “I think this is the work of the police, Ima. I have seen that look on the young man’s face many times before when the authorities came to my village and took away my family members during the holocaust. No... the only thing we can do now is pray and trust our Marguerite into Father’s hands.”

  *~*~*~*

  Before long, the word reached the Christian church community and people began to fast and pray, holding Marguerite before the Throne. The evening meal had been cancelled for the Lieberman home, fasting instead for the safe return of Marguerite. The family conversation was interspersed with desperate prayer around the Lieberman table and shrouded with many tears, with Ima staring desperately at the empty chair where Marguerite used to sit.

  Old Tom Jefferson heard about the family crisis and he had driven to the family as soon as he got word. The Liebermans had been there for him in his crisis, and now it was his turn to offer a compassionate shoulder.

  The prayer and fasting went on into the early morning and at about 2 am, the Liebermans' phone rang, breaking into the intense atmosphere. Ima’s worried eyes glanced across to Eleazar and he returned her concern, but then she hurried to answer it.

  “Hello,” Ima whispered.

  The voice on the end of the phone was breathless and faltering. “Number...12...Grimond...Street...please...hurry."

  Then the phone went dead.

  “Eleazar...! Eleazar...!” Ima cried hysterically. “Marguerite is in desperate trouble and she needs us urgently. Number 12 Grimond Street.”

  Tom launched from his seat, heading for the door. ”I know this street and I am going to bring her back.”

  “I am coming too, Tom!” Majiv responded.

  “This might get messy, Majiv. Her father may be violent toward me and the police may be called. I’m willing to stand in the face of this crime and take the ire of the authorities. You are not a soldier like me, Majiv,” Tom responded. “Tonight may have far reaching consequences.”

  “I don’t care. Marguerite needs me!” Majiv responded dispassionately.

  “Okay. Come on, but do what I tell you!”

  After blessing the two men with Jesus’ protection, the Liebermans settled back into frantic prayer.

  Close to 2:30 am, number 12 Grimond street was in complete darkness when Tom and Majiv stole up to the front of the house. Tom put his ear to the door, listening to someone gently moaning inside. He stood back and launched his body at the door like a battering ram, with his foot making direct contact. The door buckled under his kick and his foot went right through the thin layers of the wooden structure, leaving a football-sized hole where he could reach inside and open the door.

  Stunned by what he saw, Tom hesitated for a second, gawking at the chaos; but even in the semidarkness, the house was a battlefield with furniture splintered all around and bottles laying scattered and broken. The body of a man lay prostrate on the floor and then another smaller body lay on a lounge close by, with the intense smell of body odour, blood and stale alcohol reefing at Tom’s stomach. He’d seen this scene and the indelible smell many times as a soldier caught up in a terrible war. Tom picked through the carnage to the lounge and found Marguerite’s bruised and swollen face staring—unconscious—back up at him. She had a sheet wrapped around her pelvis and it was soaked in blood, causing Majiv to choke at the sight and trying to hold the contents of his stomach.

  “Is she alive, Tom?”

  Tom listened to the raspy breathing and felt for her pulse. “Yes, Majiv, but only just. We need to get her to Ima... and quickly.”

  The Liebermans were alerted to Tom and Majiv’s arrival by an impassioned knock, and as the door swung open, the sight of Marguerite's battered body made Katarzyna gasp. As Tom pushed the door open against the wall, he gently carried Marguerite inside, the blood soaked sheet still wrapped around her body.

  “Place her on the kitchen table!” Ima ordered, already knowing what had happened. “We need to work quickly, Katarzyna, and you must be strong. Boil some water and keep it coming until I tell you to stop. You men... get out and close the door. Katarzyna, you are about to learn what we women must endure.”

  As she was closing the kitchen door, Ima pleaded with the men to pray.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 50

  Tom, Majiv and Mr Lieberman knelt by the lounge, their heads bowed in prayer, pleading for Marguerite's life. When a strong, overpowering presence surrounded the tiny room, Mr Lieberman paused and his demeanour suggested he was listening to a confiding voice. Then the old man whispered, breaking the sacred silence, “I believe our prayer is to be answered, but it’s not safe for Marguerite to remain here. The authorities and her father will return to our home, attempting to force her back into the same situation and possibly then she will not survive.”

  “I have friends in a county across the country,” Tom offered unexpectedly. “They’re Christian folk and aren’t afraid to be involved in desperate situations like this. They will look after Marguerite and protect her.”

  With a sombre nod, Mr Lieberman agreed with Tom’s plan. “This sounds good to me.”

  Majiv’s expression was one of nervous desperation. “I would like to go with her, too.”

  Mr Lieberman suspected that there had been something developing between Majiv and Marguerite and now it had been confirmed. The old man carefully considered the consequences of Majiv’s statement and finally nodded, but his grim expression left Majiv even more anxious.

  “I... I would like to marry Marguerite when we are of age,” Majiv’s vulnerability made his tone deepen like a man, but he wasn’t used to discussing his emotions in such an open situation. Devoted to the girl he wanted to marry, Majiv had spent all of his spare time encouraging and admiring Marguerite, holding her hand and urging her to fight for her life and now he was more certain of his desire than ever.

  Backing Majiv’s assertion, Tom glanced at Mr Lieberman and quickly added, “You’re already old enough to marry Marguerite in the county where we’re going. I believe seventeen is the legal age there!”

  Majiv held his breath, and when Mr Lieberman assented, he beamed and bubbled excitedly, “Marguerite turns seventeen in a couple of weeks!”

  *~*~*~*

  Needing constantly to monitor Marguerite and seize sleep when she could, Ima moved a mattress into the girls' bedroom and laid it on the floor. With the battle raging for Marguerite’s life turning in her favour, a critical point had been passed as the fever abated and the grave infection subsided. Meticulously, Ima had cleaned Marguerite's bruised face and treated her injuries, but only now did she resemble the pretty girl she’d always been.

  Tuned in to the slightest noise, Ima awoke in the middle of the night and leaned towards her patient, hearing Marguerite's breathing had increased and then she realised she was crying. Reaching for a small torch, Ima switched on the insipid beam and pointed it to the ceiling, giving enough light to recognise Marguerite’s outline.

  “Hello, dear child,” the older woman whispered, reaching for Marguerite's hand and squeezing it lightly.

  Marguerite gently squeezed back, realising she was safe among her family once more. “They killed my baby, Ima!” Marguerite whispered in a flat, defeated voice and then broke and sobbed.

  “I know, dear one, I know,” Ima’s tears overflowed and ran down her face. “You need to get well again, Marguerite. Father God has not finished with you yet,” she gently encouraged.

  Marguerite’s bruised expression pain
fully swivelled toward Ima, trying to talk through tears and severely swollen lips. “Why, Ima? Why did God allow this to happen?”

  Ima sighed heavily at the question, knowing Marguerite wasn’t condemning in her attitude, just trying to understand. “Sometimes there are no answers to questions like this, dear one. Father didn’t destroy your baby, Marguerite. The devil did that with the help of deceived people. This world is overrun by the devil until Father calls him to account and restores it back into Jesus’ hands. That day is coming soon, while tragedies like this can still be turned around for good, if we trust Father to do it. Do you remember how the devil tricked Adam and Eve into giving up their right to live with God forever in the Garden of Eden?”

  Marguerite nodded.

  “Well, God sent Jesus, His perfect son, to Earth to become a man and to sacrifice His life on the cross. He regained our right to spend eternity with Father again, by his dreadful death on the cross. Jesus is the only one perfect in every way and He was the only one good enough to purchase our right back for us, by giving His life. Had He not done that, then we would have been forever kept out of Father’s presence and spent eternity in punishment with the devil. In fact, when Jesus was a baby in His mother’s womb, the devil got wind of Father’s plan and tried to destroy all the baby boys of Jesus’ time, hoping to destroy our Saviour and the only way back to our rightful place with Father. He has always attempted to destroy God's plans.”

  As the battered girl listened intently, Ima gently stroked Marguerite's soft hair.

  “There also seems to be an age of accountability, Marguerite. An age of innocence, after which Father holds us responsible for knowing the difference between right and wrong. Your baby, Marguerite, had no knowledge of right and wrong and is safely in Father’s hands and will live with Him in eternity, forever. That's true even for women who deliberately abort their babies. We, however, have to choose to accept Jesus as our Lord and Saviour or follow the devil’s way. If we choose Jesus, we will live forever in Father’s presence, too. Once you know Jesus as your Saviour, your baby will be waiting for you to enter the Heavenly Garden of Eden again and you will be wonderfully reunited.”