Page 3 of Murder in the Lighthouse

“I hope that doesn’t get around town. I don’t want people to think we’re buying favors from the police department. Lucien and I made the offer because the force is understaffed. For a town that keeps growing, three officers isn’t nearly enough. If adding one more person is the difference to keeping us all safe, it’s worth the money. That’s all there is to it.”

“No need to justify it to me. I’m happy to have extra backup on the street. I know Colt feels the same way. I don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re doing a good thing for the town.”

Brogan left it at that as she walked back to the parking lot, feeling like she’d been sucker-punched. Her stomach hadn’t felt this way since eighth grade when Amy Shetterly elbowed her in the gut during a volleyball championship game. She should’ve known that keeping any secret in a small town was damn near impossible. Would it matter overall? Would it change how people perceived them? She hoped not. She liked being able to fit in here.

Heading out of the lot, she took a left on Beach Street, then a right on Ocean as her thoughts turned from worrying about her own problems to the overall oddities of the Heywood case. By the time she pulled her Range Rover into a graveledparking lot in front of the keeper’s cottage, officially known as 14 Lighthouse Lane, her head felt like mush. It was full of questions and puzzling aspects of how someone could disappear in a town the size of Pelican Pointe where everyone knew everyone else’s business.

And why would Sam abandon his car at this location? It was up on a hill overlooking the town and, ultimately, the ocean. Had he met someone at the lighthouse who promised him information about his sister? Had Sam ever left the area at all? And where was Bethany?

Brogan glanced toward the thick woods across from where she sat in the car. Could Sam have met with foul play in those woods? It wouldn’t be the first time such things had happened there. She recalled the stories about a serial killer using those same woods as cover to bury his victims.

A chill ran through her body as she studied the towering lighthouse overlooking Smuggler’s Bay, restored to full function only a dozen years earlier. A sad thought occurred to her. Could Sam have gotten curious and ended up going inside? Had Theo or anyone else checked that out? she wondered. Had it been thoroughly searched from top to bottom? Or had Sam gone too close to the edge of the cliff, lost his footing, and taken a tumble down the side of the bluff?

“Not that,” she stated aloud. “Someone would have found his body by now on the beach below,” she reasoned. But thinking about all that brought out a round of anxiety so terrifying she found she couldn’t move, even a few inches to where her handbag was to dig for her phone and send a text message to Lucien.

Frozen by an unseen fear, she took a deep breath, trying to shake off the paralysis that gripped her. She knew she couldn’t let panic win, especially with no one around, alone in the middle of a parking lot by herself. With resolve strengthening within,she forced herself to move her arm. With her fingers, she began to dig for her phone, feeling around in her bag before finally pulling it out.

A tap on the window glass made her jump. She looked out the driver’s side window to see Lucien standing beside her SUV. Her fingers fumbled with the door lock.

Lucien noticed she was visibly upset. He opened the door and reached for her hand. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“How did you find me?” she managed.

“Eastlyn told me you were headed here. What the hell happened?”

She blurted out all the wrong things they’d assumed about Sam’s case. With it, her list of questions in a long, word string. In addition to that jumble, she told him about Sam Heywood’s Subaru, which was left in the parking lot. “The bottom line is he might still be in that lighthouse.”

Lucien seemed skeptical. “We should get hold of Windsong.”

“His name’s Woodsong. Theo. We had his name wrong. She dug in her bag for the business card she’d taken from the police station. “See? I was getting ready to call…somebody. You. Actually.”

“What scared the crap out of you, though? You looked white as a sheet. I don’t think you heard me drive up and park next to you,” Lucien pointed out as he keyed in Theo’s cell number. He glanced around the area and realized that even though the lighthouse overlooked the town, even though it was in broad daylight, the place gave off an abandoned, spooky vibe. “Did you see something or someone?”

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. I got this…eerie feeling that someone might be watching me…from the woods…or maybe from the top of the lighthouse.”

His eyes scanned upward to the tower and realized it wasn’t the best place to be alone. “Didn’t they used to have community Halloween parties here every year back in the old days?”

“They did. They tried to keep the tradition going, but after IDing the serial killer as the local pharmacist and recovering his victims’ remains in those woods, Murphy had a tough time convincing the town to continue,especiallyon Halloween. These days, the keeper’s cottage is mostly used for more upbeat events. Get-togethers like wedding receptions, sports banquets, baby showers, and community stuff. You can see how the cliff makes a perfect backdrop for taking photos. This is where they take school pictures now.”

Feeling better and talking things out with Lucien always helped—she stepped out of the car, her open-toed slingbacks crunching on the gravel. The salty tang of the ocean filled her senses. The wind whistled through the air, carrying a sense of something that prickled her skin. Brogan squared her shoulders, steeling her spine against whatever force kept her on guard.

As the two made their way closer to the lighthouse, the November air had a bite to it. The waves crashing against the rocks below signaled that morning high tide still lingered. The lighthouse loomed above them; its off-white stucco walls battered by the constant wind.

When Theo finally answered his phone, Lucien rattled off the reason he’d called. “Brogan and I are standing outside the base of the lighthouse. We were wondering if you looked for Sam Heywood inside the tower.”

Lucien could tell Theo didn’t mind the intrusion. The guy answered in a methodical, cop-speak tone. “The day I found the car, I went inside and looked around, underneath the spiral staircase, checked out the base and foundation rooms, but I didn’t go all the way up to the lantern room, maybe halfway up. I didn’t see the point of going to the top. Besides, it’s not a publicplace where you have access. You can’t just stroll inside and check the place out. The town keeps the place locked down tight for obvious safety reasons. The fear of jumpers is always there.”

“That makes sense.”

“It does. Heywood couldn’t get in because the doors were locked. There were no signs any doors had been jimmied. I had to ask Colt Del Rio for the keys. I now have my own set. Do you want to go in and look around anyway?”

“I suppose that would be a waste of time if the doors were locked on the day he abandoned his car. Why would he do that? Leave his car here?”

“No idea what was going through his head. All I know is that he had searched multiple times in Wilder Ranch Park along with the search teams to find his sister. The day he disappeared; he came directly from Santa Cruz. We think he drove here to put up flyers around town.”

“And then disappeared,” Lucian concluded.

“Exactly.”

---