The Lighthouse (Berkley Street Series Book 2)

by Ron Ripley

  George writhed on the deck, trying to get up.

  “Give it up,” she said, yawning. “I’ve trussed you up like a Thanksgiving turkey. You won’t be going anywhere. Not until she arrives and decides what to do with you.”

  “What will she do with me?” George whispered.

  “If you’re lucky,” Mystery said, smiling softly, “you’ll drown and be on your way.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “If you’re not,” she said, the smile fading away, “you’ll drown and be here until the end of time.”

  Chapter 31: Risking a Look

  Shane stank.

  His body smelled of old sweat and fear. Although he had managed to clean up a little with some wet-wipes he had brought along, it hadn’t made much of a difference.

  She doesn’t smell, he thought, looking at Courtney.

  He pulled out a flameless heater from an MRE and prepped a bag for coffee.

  “You look like you know what you’re doing,” Courtney said, coming over and sitting down next to him.

  “Looks are deceiving,” he said with a grin. She had been crying again earlier, but it was to be expected.

  I’ll worry if she doesn’t cry, he thought.

  “Not in your case,” she said confidently. “Everything you are is right out front, isn’t it?”

  Shane could tell the question was rhetorical, but he nodded in agreement anyway. “I don’t see a need to hide anything. Not anymore. I played things pretty close to the vest for a long time. Can’t really tell your friends the house you lived in killed your parents.”

  Her eyes widened, and she said softly, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Shane said, sighing, “it was a long time ago.”

  He shook the bag with the coffee in it and added water to the flameless heater’s bag. Once the chemicals in the heater reacted, he slipped both the containers into a cardboard sleeve, propped them up against the wall at an angle, and relaxed a little more.

  “Did you sleep at all?” Courtney asked.

  “A little, here and there,” he said.

  “How much is a little?”

  “Maybe an hour altogether,” Shane said. He tried not to think about how tired he felt.

  “Do you want to sleep now?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It would only make it worse. Better to stay up until everything is done.”

  “What do you want to do after the coffee?” Courtney said, glancing over at the door.

  “Take a walk,” Shane replied. “I want to see if we can find some more iron somewhere.”

  “Where would we find iron?”

  “We’ll take a quick look around the house,” Shane said. “Then we’ll go down by the pier. We’ll do it together, though. They may be a little cautious around me, and we’ll have to work with what we have.”

  “Yeah,” Courtney said, “I’m not leaving your side, Shane.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said, smiling. “Coffee’s about ready. Want some?”

  “God yes,” she said, sighing.

  Shane poured the brew out into their sole cup and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She blew on it to cool it down, took a sip, and winced. “Damn, that’s strong.”

  “We need it to be,” Shane said. “Sometimes, when we were out in the field, and we were all jonesing for a caffeine fix, we’d take the instant coffee from the MREs and use the crystals like they were chew.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” she said, grinning.

  “You know, chewing tobacco?” Shane asked. When she nodded, he said, “Well, we would stick a pinch of the instant between our gum and cheek. Sort of suck the caffeine out of it.”

  “Sounds absolutely disgusting,” Courtney said.

  “It was,” Shane said, smiling as he remembered. “But you do what you need to do.”

  “And what we need to do today is find iron?” she said.

  “If we can,” Shane said, nodding.

  “What if we can’t?”

  “Hope like hell that we can,” Shane said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  Together they drank the coffee, ate some less-than-appealing breakfast, and got ready for the day. Shane gave Courtney one of his clean tshirts to wear and politely turned his back while she changed. She extended him the same courtesy while he switched out all of his clothes.

  “Ready?” Shane asked her, his hand on the latch.

  She nodded.

  “Remember, we go everywhere together.”

  “Got it,” Courtney said grimly.

  “Okay.”

  Shane took a deep breath and opened the door. The sun had come up only a short time before, and the wind was stronger than it had been. The waves were in a frenzy, the whitecaps mad as they danced along the breadth of water between the mainland and the island. The pier and the stones suffered beneath each wave.

  Shane stood still and looked out at the island.

  He saw nothing out of place. No one walking around, no ghosts waiting for them.

  “Alright,” he said, glancing back at Courtney.

  His eyes widened.

  What remained of Scott stood behind her, and smiled at Shane.

  Chapter 32: In for Rough Weather

  The Boston Whaler pitched and rolled with the ocean. The waves were getting larger, and George could see them from his position on the deck.

  She’ll be swamped soon, George thought, depressed.

  The mystery woman was either unaware of the danger or didn’t care. She continued to lounge in her seat. He could see the knuckles on her hands whiten as the boat rose up, and then followed the curve of a wave down.

  “How are you feeling, George?” she asked pleasantly, no hint of concern in her voice.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Oh, you don’t want to talk now?” she said, laughing. “I couldn’t get you to shut up last night. The promises you made.”

  George kept his comments to himself. He was afraid. Not of her, but of whatever was coming from the island for him. He had no doubt about it. Somewhere, something was on its way.

  And I’m going to die, he thought.

  Mystery stood up suddenly, a triumphant smile on her face. She retained her balance and poise as the boat rolled with the waves.

  “Great Mother,” she said respectfully, taking off her sunglasses.

  Without knowing why George twisted to see who the woman spoke to.

  A middle-aged woman, her face harsh and severe, had arrived, somehow. Her hands were clasped loosely together in front of her, and she looked disdainfully at George.

  George’s heart lost all sense of rhythm, beating erratically as he looked through the new arrival. The edges of her body had no clear sense of definition, and the world beyond was disturbed, as though by a gossamer curtain.

  George struggled as panic flooded him, and his frantic efforts brought a cold smile to the Great Mother’s face.

  “His fear is palpable,” the new arrival said. “You’ve done well, girl. Exceptionally so. Soon we’ll have enough to put the lighthouse to right.”

  “Thank you, Great Mother,” Mystery replied, a sense of awe in her voice. “Do you require more?”

  “A few. Just a few.”

  George continued to struggle, his hands and feet numb from hours of being bound. All of his attempts were useless. Finally, he let out a cry and closed his eyes as he gave up.

  “Bring him to the island,” the Great Mother said. “I must put the newest of the help through their paces.”

  The Whaler’s engine started up, and George felt the boat begin to move. He risked a look and opened an eye. He saw Mystery at the helm, her back was to him.

  “I’m sorry, George,” she said over her shoulder, and there was no true note of sympathy or apology in her voice. “You will not be drowned today. Something worse, I’m sure, but at least you won’t be drowned.”

  George shuddered.

  I’d rath
er drown, he thought miserably. Dear God, please kill me now.

  God didn’t answer, and George began to weep.

  Chapter 33: Uninvited and Unwanted

  Shane closed the door carefully, never taking his eyes off of Scott. Or rather the horror which had been Scott. The dead had mangled the young man. His clothes were gone, but he wasn’t naked. It was worse.

  Scott was nothing more than a bloody sketch of what he had been prior to his death. His eyes were gone. Destroyed sockets seemed to stare at Shane. He had been flayed, all of the muscles laid bare for the world to see. Teeth were broken, shattered remnants of what they had been. Each finger was a twisted horror, a nightmare idea of what the digits should be.

  What did they do with the body? Shane wondered. Did they drag it down into the ocean after? Did they stuff it down amongst the rocks for the crabs and fish to eat?

  “Why’d you close the door?” Courtney asked, confused. “I thought we were going out.”

  “We will be,” Shane said, keeping his eyes on Scott as he answered her. “Cort, do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she said, frowning.

  “I’m going to tell you to do something, and I need you to do it exactly as I say. Do you understand?” Shane asked.

  She nodded, fear replacing the confusion.

  “Good. Without looking around, I want you to sidestep to your right and never take your eyes off of me. When you reach the wall, sit down, close your eyes, and keep them that way until I tell you to open them.”

  He saw her swallow nervously, but she did as she was told. Shane kept his attention fixed on Scott. Finally, he said, “How are you, Scott?”

  The destroyed visage focused on him, and the mouth moved as Scott said, “I won’t lie, Shane. I have been a whole lot better.”

  “Kind of figured that out,” Shane said. “Are you in pain?”

  “No,” Scott answered. “Got to tell you, it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “I don’t imagine it was.”

  “Thanks for opening the door, by the way,” Scott said cheerfully. “For some reason, I couldn’t get through it last night.”

  “Why are you here?” Shane asked.

  “I’ve come for the little whore,” Scott said, laughing. “Dorothy wants you. Wants you all to herself. And, from what I hear, she’s going to make an example out of you. I’m really looking forward to watching that.”

  There was no more joy in Scott’s voice, only hatred.

  “Oh yes,” the young man said softly, “I will enjoy watching you suffer. Watching you die. There’s been some talk of keeping you on, but I hope she won’t. I hope she sends your rotten soul straight to Hell.”

  “She might,” Shane said. “You really can’t rule anything out.”

  “No, you can’t,” Scott said, nodding in agreement. “Anyway, I’ve come to get Courtney.”

  When Scott turned his head to look at her with eyes no longer there, Shane attacked. He threw himself across the short distance which separated him from Scott. He brought the knuckledusters smashing down on Scott.

  The young man screamed a sound of pure rage which instantly gave Shane a headache. Scott disappeared, and Shane lost his balance, tripped, and slammed into the thick wall of the Lighthouse. He knocked over some of the equipment but caught himself before he fell.

  “Courtney,” Shane said, standing up and looking at her. “He’s gone now.”

  She opened her eyes, anger and fear combined within them. She got to her feet and went to Shane. Her body shook, her face was pale, but she exuded strength.

  “Where did he go?” she asked.

  “To wherever they hid his body, I’m assuming,” Shane said, flexing his hands and letting out a deep, shuddering breath.

  “I need something to protect myself with,” Courtney said. “I need it now.”

  Shane nodded his agreement. He turned his attention to the lighthouse door. The latch was iron. The hinges were iron.

  He went to a tool bag set on the floor by the bookcase.

  “Are we going to go the house to look?” Courtney asked.

  “No,” Shane said, pulling the bag open and rummaging through it. “Look at the door.”

  “What about it?”

  “The hinges, the handle. Hell, even the straps on the boards, they’re all made of iron,” Shane said, shaking his head at his own ignorance. He took a pry-bar and a two-pound sledge out of the bag. He carried both over to the door and looked at the hinges.

  “Pinions,” he said, pointing at them.

  Courtney’s smile was cold and knowing. “They’ll pop right out.”

  “Yup,” he said. He fit the edge of the pry bar beneath the lip of the pin on the first hinge and banged it out. He did the same with the other two hinges, handing all three of the pins to Courtney. Then with the door held in place only by the latch and luck, he put the tools down and took the door out of the frame. He set it against the inner wall and examined it.

  The wood was old but still strong.

  This’ll take some work, he sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Courtney asked.

  “Nothing,” Shane said, smiling at her. “Hold onto those pins, alright?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Are we putting the door back up?”

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “I’m going to get one of these hinges off, try to make you a club of some sort.”

  Courtney nodded. She examined the pins and then asked, “So, think these would work too?”

  “In a pinch,” he replied. “I’d rather you have something with a little more reach. I don’t think they’re going to come at us individually. They’ll probably swarm. Dorothy’s not stupid, she’ll have seen we have at least a little iron. That’ll keep her about as honest as possible. Which isn’t much.”

  “No,” Courtney said bitterly, “it’s not.”

  “Alright,” Shane said, picking up the sledge. “It’s going to get loud.”

  Courtney smirked. “That’s how I like it.”

  Shane laughed, caught off guard. “Okay, then. Sounds good to me.”

  He lifted the sledge and brought it down hard on the door.

  Chapter 34: The Forecast

  With her morning run finished, Marie was in her den. She was stretching and cooling down as the news played out on the small television. The forecast was calling for high winds, possible rain, and thunderstorms, with a high-wave warning for the coastal communities.

  She frowned as she straightened up. It’s been too long without any word from him. Or from Amy about him, Marie thought.

  Calm down, she told herself. Amy said she’d let you know as soon as she heard from him.

  You could always call her. There is rough weather coming in.

  Marie nodded to herself, went to her coffee table, and picked up her phone. She dialed Amy’s number, but after three rings, it went to voicemail. Marie left a message asking her cousin to call back.

  Still holding her phone, Marie went and sat down on the edge of her couch. She turned up the volume on the television.

  A yacht had been found drifting off the coast of Maine. The anchor line had snapped, and the Coast Guard was out looking for the crew. No one had been reported missing, but the yacht had left its berth three days earlier. According to the news report, the boat had been spotted anchored close to Squirrel Island, but that had been the last reported sighting.

  Marie frowned.

  An abandoned yacht, last seen near Squirrel Island. Where Shane Ryan is investigating the ghostly connection to a suicide.

  Jesus Christ, she thought, Amy better get back to me soon, or I’ll be going up there myself.

  The idea of being on the ocean again churned her stomach.

  I can’t leave him out there. And what if the crew is there, too?

  Marie turned off the television, got up, and went towards the bedroom. She needed to shower and get to work. In her head, she calculated how long it might take to charter a boat out to the Squirrel Island Lig
hthouse.

  Chapter 35: An Unexpected Guest

  The weapon was ugly. A length of board cut down to roughly two feet. One end was wrapped tightly with strips of one of Shane’s tshirts. The head of the bludgeon was a pair of hinges, beaten and battered into shape.

  “Swing it,” Shane said, stepping back after he had handed it to Courtney.

  The muscles in her forearms stood out as she lifted it up into the batter’s position. She set her feet, her mouth set grimly. She took a deep breath and gave a swing that made Shane’s eyes widen with appreciation.

  “Damn,” Shane said, chuckling. “You would have hit it out of the park.”

  She winked at him, lowering the weapon. “Played softball in high school, and at Rivier University in New Hampshire.”

  “It shows,” Shane said. “How does it feel, though?”

  “Rough,” she said. “Wouldn’t want to try and hit a ball with it, but I think I can crush anything that steps up to me.”

  “Good. You’ve got the pins still, too?”

  She nodded. “Back pocket.”

  “Okay, keep them there. If you lose the cudgel, use those. One in each hand,” he said.

  “Got it.”

  He picked up the last item he had made. It was the third hinge, bent into a crescent shape. He had threaded strips of cloth through the nail holes and made a rough pair of knuckledusters for his left hand.

  “So,” Courtney started to say, and then she stopped. She pointed out the open doorway and Shane turned to look.

  A boat was at the pier.

  Is it the same boat from yesterday? Shane wondered dazedly. Did he come back for his friends?

  “Should we go down there?” Courtney said cautiously. “It’s the same boat as yesterday.”

  “Is it?” Shane asked.

  Courtney nodded. “Terminal Fleet. I saw the name.”

  He caught sight of a woman wearing sunglasses and a large hat, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. She was also wearing what looked like an oversized man’s sweatshirt. For a moment, she ducked down, and when she came back up, she was dragging a man. A man whose hands and legs were bound behind his back. She pushed him over the side of the boat, and Shane heard his body thump on the wood of the pier.