The Lighthouse (Berkley Street Series Book 2)

by Ron Ripley

  Scott shook his head, unable to give her an answer.

  “Courtney?” Shane called.

  “Got it,” she answered. “Now what?”

  “Spread it out right in front of the door, please,” he said. “And don’t look, okay?”

  “Okay,” Courtney said. She brought the tarp to the door, stretched it out, and then turned to Eileen. “Come on, hon, let’s go inside.”

  Her expression was one of dazed confusion, Eileen allowed Courtney to help her stand up. Together they went to the keeper’s house.

  Scott was alone.

  “All set?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah,” Scott said. “And the girls went inside.”

  “Good,” Shane said. “You may want to go inside too, Scott.”

  “No,” Scott responded, his voice sounding oddly mechanical to his ears. “He’s my best friend.”

  “Alright,” Shane said. “Be ready.”

  A moment later, Scott heard Shane’s footsteps on the stairs. They were heavier than before, and the man came down steadily. Soon, Scott could see him. Shane walked carefully, stepping on each riser. Once again, he was bare-chested, and blood stained his hairless flesh.

  Dane Wesser, Scott’s best friend, was limply draped over Shane’s shoulder. Dane’s body flopped and jiggled curiously, lifelessly with every step Shane took.

  When the older man reached the ground floor, he grimly exited the lighthouse and gently placed Dane’s body on the tarp. Scott could see why Shane was shirtless. The black tee shirt he had been wearing earlier was on Dane’s stomach. Dane’s braided tan belt had been removed from his khaki shorts, looped around the shirt and cinched tightly.

  “Why?” Scott asked softly.

  “Why what?” Shane asked, getting down on his knees.

  “Your shirt?”

  “To keep his intestines in,” Shane said bitterly. “He was gutted like a fish.”

  Scott felt the urge to vomit, but he kept it under control. Silently, he watched Shane wrap the tarp around Dane, and then roll him carefully and gently in it. When he had finished, Shane looked up at Scott and said, “Will you help me move him?”

  Scott nodded. “Where?”

  “We’ll bring him around the back. There’s an old shed, it’s seen better days, but it’s empty. We can put him there until someone comes and gets us later, alright?”

  “Yeah,” Scott whispered. “Yeah, alright.”

  “Good.”

  Not really aware of what he was doing, Scott helped to pick up Dane, whose body was incredibly unwieldy, and together he and Shane went around the lighthouse. In the back was the shed, its door wide open and hanging cockeyed off of its hinges.

  Shane backed in and said, “Here, on the right.”

  They maneuvered in the tight confines of the small structure and put Dane’s body on a shelf that kept him off the ground and was barely long enough to fit him.

  “Thanks,” Shane said as they left the shed and he closed the door, sliding the latch in place. “Will you do me another favor?”

  “Sure,” Scott said numbly. “What is it?”

  “Go in, grab a t-shirt out of my bag and bring it down to the pier?” Shane said. “I need to wash myself up. Salt water isn’t great for it, but I won’t waste what little fresh water we have.”

  “Yeah,” Scott said. “I can do that.”

  “Thanks,” Shane said. He hesitated, then he added, “Listen, I’m sorry this happened to your friend. I truly am, Scott.”

  Scott nodded, and Shane left for the pier.

  Scott stood outside the shed a little longer. Then, with a shudder, he went into the keeper’s house. He needed to get the shirt for Shane.

  And he needed to tell Eileen about where Dane’s body was.

  His body, Scott thought, and tears filled his eyes. Oh Christ, his body …

  Chapter 13: Down at the Pier

  Shane was thankful the weather was warm, and that the breeze coming off of the ocean was equally warm. He had managed to scrub Dane’s blood off of his body, and he sat on the pier, air-drying. The salt water had left an unpleasant residue on his flesh, but it was far more preferable than the remnants of Dane.

  He took his cigarettes out, lit one, and exhaled as he looked at the water. The waves smacked the large stones at the base of the island. The water was rough, angry. A glance at the yacht showed it at the end of its tether.

  It’ll break free soon, Shane thought glumly, and he wondered when Marie might get out to them. He needed the kids, and the body, off of the island.

  He heard footsteps on the path behind him and he turned quickly.

  Courtney was approaching, holding his gray t-shirt in her hand.

  “Fantastic,” Shane said around his cigarette. “Thank you so much.”

  He got to his feet and walked towards her. She gave him a small smile as she handed it to him. He could see the fear and concern in her eyes.

  After he had put the shirt on, he sat back down on the pier and she joined him. Several minutes of silence passed by before she asked, “What happened?”

  “Dane was killed by a ghost,” Shane said.

  Courtney shook her head. “How? I mean, come on, how can a ghost hurt someone?”

  “I don’t know how,” Shane said, then to himself, No, she doesn’t need to know. “I just know they can. It’s like bumble bees. They look like they shouldn’t be able to fly, but they do. I don’t know how a ghost can hurt someone, but they do.”

  Courtney hesitated, then she said, “How was he killed?”

  “Badly,” Shane answered. “We’re going to leave it at that.”

  She nodded, accepting the reply. “Scott’s not taking it well.”

  “They were good friends?” Shane asked.

  “The best. They’d been friends since first grade,” Courtney said.

  Shane shook his head, finished his cigarette, and pinched out the butt. He stripped the paper off of the filter, tore up the filter, and then put the debris in his pockets.

  “Most people would have thrown it in the water,” Courtney said.

  “Hm?” Shane asked.

  “Your cigarette butt,” she said. “They would have tossed it into the ocean.”

  “Old habits,” Shane said, smiling. “They die hard.”

  The waves moved in, struck the rocks, broke apart, and then repeated the pattern.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” Courtney said softly. “Too bad it’s terrible, this place.”

  Shane nodded his agreement. “I have to find Dorothy.”

  Courtney frowned. “Who?”

  “The ghost I spoke to last night before you all showed up,” Shane clarified. “Clark, the one who killed Dane, he said she’s in charge. I need to speak with her. But I need to find her first.”

  “Where do ghosts hide?” Courtney asked. “I mean, this is a small island. Where can they be?”

  “Lots of places,” Shane replied. “We’ve got the lighthouse and the keeper’s house. The shed, and the pier. There has to be a cistern or something like it.”

  “For the water,” Courtney said, nodding. “Yeah. There wouldn’t be a well. They would have had to bring it in and store it here.”

  “And there’s the cellar,” Shane said, glancing back at the house. He saw Scott in the window, watching them.

  “Scott’s keeping an eye on you,” Shane said.

  “I know,” Courtney said, sighing. She didn’t bother to look. “He gets a little jealous. It’s what I get for dating a guy four years younger than me.”

  “Strange that he gets jealous,” Shane said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You don’t strike me as the type of person who’d cheat,” Shane said. “I think you’d be more likely to tell him you were done and move on if you were interested in someone else.”

  “Yup,” Courtney agreed. “That’s me. He knows it too. I’ve told him. Doesn’t mean he’s listening to me, though.”

  Shane nodded.

/>   “So,” she said, “what do we do now, wait for your friends to notice you haven’t written or replied?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Not much else to do about it. Just going to try and keep the rest of you safe. If I can.”

  “Thank you,” Courtney said softly. “For all of us. I don’t think either Eileen or Scott will see it that way, but I do. Thank you.”

  Shane nodded, trying not to look in her green eyes. After a pause, he said, “I need some coffee. How about you?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  They both got to their feet and began the short walk back to the keeper’s house. Scott was no longer at the window.

  “Will you start looking for Dorothy right after coffee?” Courtney asked.

  “Yup,” Shane answered.

  “What do you need?”

  “Iron knuckledusters, light, and a whole lot of luck,” Shane said.

  “Where are you going to start?” she said.

  “The cellar,” Shane said.

  They lapsed into silence, turning up the path towards the keeper’s house. The sounds of their footsteps were swallowed up by the waves. Soon they reached the front door, and Courtney opened it for him. Shane smiled and nodded his thanks.

  When he entered the house Shane saw Scott and Eileen sitting in the living room. Both of them were exhausted, deep shadows beneath their eyes, stubble on Scott’s face.

  “I’m going to make coffee,” Shane said to them. “And I’ll heat up some food. You’ll both need to eat. Letting your bodies get too hungry or thirsty isn’t the way to last this one out. Understood?”

  Scott nodded.

  “Eileen,” Shane said sharply. The young woman looked up, surprised. “Did you hear me?”

  “No,” she said softly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “You need to,” Shane said grimly. “This place isn’t nice. It isn’t friendly. Whatever is here, hurts people. I need to you to pay attention. I need you to eat. All of you. Not eating and not drinking is going to get you hurt, and probably me.”

  “Do you need help getting the food ready?” Courtney asked.

  Shane nodded. “Any help would be great, Cort.”

  She blushed slightly at the nickname and passed by him to go into the kitchen. Scott’s face reddened too, but it was from anger and not attraction.

  Good, Shane thought. Maybe it’ll help him to pay more attention to her.

  Chapter 14: Angrier and Angrier

  Scott didn’t care about Shane having gone racing into the lighthouse after Dane. He didn’t care the man was making them food.

  All Scott cared about was the inappropriate amount of time Courtney, his girlfriend, was spending with a forty-something-year-old guy. Dane being dead didn’t help Scott’s attitude.

  But it’s all about ‘Cort’ now, he thought angrily. The pet name caused his anger to flare and his hands to itch. He had never wanted to hit anyone as badly as he wanted to hit Shane Ryan.

  It would have been worse if Shane was actually hitting on Courtney in front of him. Shane wasn’t though.

  No, Scott fumed, she’s attracted to him. To a God-Damned forty-year-old! he snarled inwardly. Christ, she’s in there helping him cook! She won’t even let me near the stove at her place.

  Briefly, he contemplated sucker-punching Shane, but with the idea came the realization that if he didn’t knock the man out, Shane would probably beat the hell out of him.

  I just want to leave this place, Scott complained to himself. Get good and far away, then we can figure out what the hell happened to Dane.

  The thought of his friend twisted his gut and Scott dropped his chin to his chest.

  “Scott,” Eileen whispered. “Did you hear that?”

  He was about to say ‘no’ when he did hear something. A creak followed by a soft groan.

  From the second floor.

  Another creak filtered down, then a third.

  Someone’s walking up there, Scott realized.

  Eileen turned toward the kitchen door, and he stopped her.

  “Wait,” he whispered.

  She looked at him, surprised, and she asked in a low voice, “Why?”

  “What if the person up there is a friend of Shane’s?” Scott asked. “I’m having a hard time believing all of this ghost stuff. Especially after Dane was killed.”

  Eileen hesitated, then she shook his hand off of her. “I don’t believe it.”

  Scott watched her leave the room, and then he turned his attention to the stairs. The steps drew nearer. He got to his feet and walked softly over to the railing. The wood was cold and smooth beneath his hand. He held onto it as he peered up into the dim light of the second floor.

  A man appeared, and Scott took a nervous step backward. It was the naked man he had seen on the pier the night before.

  “Scott,” Shane said, suddenly at his side.

  Scott stared at Shane, unable to speak briefly. Then, finally, he managed to stutter out, “He’s see-through.”

  “I know,” Shane said. “Go on back, please. Let me speak with Mike here.”

  Scott could only nod as he backed up and found himself between Eileen and Courtney. In horrified, but fascinated silence, they watched the scene before them unfold.

  Chapter 15: A Conversation

  Shane slipped the iron knuckledusters onto his right hand, and he waited for the man at the top of the stairs to speak.

  “You should leave,” Mike Puller said.

  “I’d like to,” Shane replied. “Can’t though. No reception for the phone. And someone decided to mess around with my ability to connect with the internet.”

  “She wants you gone,” Mike said, moving a step closer.

  “She can want me gone until Hell freezes over,” Shane said pleasantly. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

  “You’ll leave now,” Mike said, advancing another step.

  “No,” Shane said. “I won’t kill myself like you did, Mike.”

  The statement caused the man to hesitate. “How do you know my name?”

  “I’m a friend of Amy’s cousin,” Shane said. “I was asked here.”

  At the mention of Amy’s name, Mike Puller lowered his head. “I’m sorry she has to carry this weight. I didn’t want her to.”

  Puller fixed his eyes on Shane. “Doesn’t mean you get to stay.”

  “I stay because I want to. And I’ll leave when I want to. Do you understand me?” Shane asked. He drove all semblance of politeness from his voice. “I’m going to find out what the hell is going on, and then you’re all going to leave. Am I understood?”

  Puller chuckled. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “Cliché much?” Shane asked him.

  Puller glared and raced down the stairs at him. Shane slipped to one side, and Mike Puller spun around and snapped, “Think you’re clever? Think she won’t find out about you?”

  “Dorothy had best forget about me,” Shane said softly, “and worry about learning to live with the living.”

  “The island is hers,” Puller stated matter-of-factly. “The lighthouse is hers. The keeper’s house is hers. You had best remember all of that.”

  “Go,” Shane said. “You’re boring the hell out of me. Go put some clothes on.”

  Mike Puller snarled with rage and hurled himself at Shane.

  Shane didn’t bother stepping aside. He adjusted his position, raised his right fist up and brought it smashing into Puller’s face. The ghost’s eyes went wide as the iron struck him.

  A short scream pierced the air, and Mike Puller vanished.

  Shane lowered his arm and wondered, tiredly, When is Amy going to check her damned email and see I haven’t written in?

  He sighed as he walked away from the stairs. Courtney, Eileen, and Scott all stared at him as he approached.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked them.

  “You punched a ghost,” Courtney said.

  “Only worked because of the iron I had on. Th
ese knuckledusters,” he said, slipping them off and putting them back into his pocket, “their iron, and a friend of mine gave them to me. Back when we had a little run-in with some other, equally unpleasant ghosts.

  “Come on in the kitchen,” he said as he passed by them. “I’ll tell you what little I know about what can slow a ghost down.”

  They followed him, and as he and Courtney finished the preparation of the MREs, he told them about iron, and how to use it.

  Chapter 16: Going Down

  Scott was sulking in a corner, they had survived the night and the morning had slipped by uneventfully. Eileen lay on the sleeping bag, and Shane wasn’t sure if the girl was awake or asleep. She was quiet, and she had cried again after they had eaten. Courtney had spoken with Scott, and whatever it was had resulted in his new bad mood. Courtney sat beside Eileen, her hand on her friend’s shoulder. When Courtney saw Shane looking at her, she smiled.

  Shane smiled back.

  “When are you going to go into the cellar?” Courtney asked.

  “In a little while,” Shane replied.

  “What do you think you’ll find there?” she said.

  “I’m hoping I’ll find Dorothy,” Shane said.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Of course, I am,” Shane said gently. “I’d be a fool not to be. I don’t know what I’ll run into down there. I know I’ve got a minimum of three ghosts to deal with, possibly more. It all depends on how many others Dorothy and Clark have bound to them. No, I’m not looking forward to this at all, Cort.”

  “Do you need me to go downstairs with you?” she asked. The fear was thick in her voice.

  Shane smiled at her. “No. No, but thank you. I want you, Eileen, and Scott up here, where it’s safe.”

  He stood up and stretched.

  “Shane,” Scott said bitterly, “what do we do if you get taken?”

  “Set the house on fire,” Shane replied. “And hope someone sees you and comes out to investigate.”

  He left them, passed through the kitchen, and went out the back door.

  It was nearly mid-day, and the sun was strong and true. The island was warm, smelling sweetly of saltwater, and Shane wondered what he would find in the cellar of the house.