Page 2 of Surging Reef
He’d never forget the smile Naveen had given Anne when the guards had dragged him away.
A setup.
He sighed and allowed a new wave of pain to wash over him. He was so fucking stupid.
Maybe he deserved to die here.
* * * *
The breaths rasped in Kazimir Wrenley’s chest as he ran as fast as he could without hurting Pharos, his dog of two weeks. Well, the dog wasn’t two weeks old. The vet estimated him to bethree, three and a half years, but Kazimir had only had him for two weeks.
That night he’d snuck in to see Wolf Point Beacon, a lighthouse built in 1852. They didn’t have tours like many other lighthouses did, but he’d gone there to see it and had noticed a padlock on the door.
If they didn’t want people to enter, they should’ve locked it up properly. He was only having a look. It wasn’t in use, and he would never touch anything he shouldn’t.
He’d gone at night. It took away some of the magic to have to poke around by the light of his phone’s flashlight instead of taking in its full glory in daylight, but he couldn’t afford to get caught, and people noticed things when they were awake.
Still, the oak floorboards had taken his breath away, and it was clear someone had lived there. There was a room he assumed had been a kitchen, and there had been a small pantry with a few shelves still intact. Amazing. When he’d looked his fill, he’d left the lighthouse in the same condition he’d found it—apart from the bolt cutter he’d taken to the padlock.
When he’d left Wolf Point Beacon, he hadn’t been running. He’d walked in the calm of the night until he’d heard a low whine.
There, on the side of the road, he’d found Pharos. The poor little thing was unable to stand, his right back leg at an odd angle, and his fur matted with mud and dirt and blood.
Kazimir had taken him to the vet, learned he was an unchipped border terrier, who’d spent some time on the streets. He’d most likely been hit by a car and was now the proud wearer of a pink cast. The problem was he wasn’t allowed to run on the cast, and Kazimir needed to run. Luckily, Pharos accepted being carried.
Since Wolf Point Beacon had been a success, he’d grown bold and gone to Hamwick Point. It’s the only Heidenstamlighthouse he wouldn’t have to travel for days to see, and it was on his list.
The list contained over 2,500 lighthouses, and he’d visited two hundred fifty-three of them. He had some way to go, but he didn’t mind.
One day, he’d own a lighthouse. He’d seen a documentary a few years ago about a group of men who bought old lighthouses and renovated them. He’d do that, but only with one. He didn’t dream about buying, fixing up, and then selling. No. He wanted a lighthouse. A pretty lighthouse where he would live, where the salty winds would caress the walls, where icy water would splash in the winter while he was warm and cozy inside and could look out over the roaring sea.
He didn’t know shit about renovating things, but he put away every penny he could because one day—one day—he’d own a lighthouse. Not a Heidenstam lighthouse. The one he’d visited today was cool. An iron tower resting on steel pipes with a spiral stair in the middle, fifty-nine feet tall, and finished in 1863. Impressive, but he didn’t want to live in one like that.
He would if it were the only kind he could get his hands on, but he’d always pictured himself in a masonry lighthouse, or maybe a screw-pile.
A shout sounded behind him. He cursed and upped his speed. He’d only wanted to see if he could climb the steel construction. The door into the staircase had been locked properly, not with a padlock, so he couldn’t get in. Or maybe he could’ve. He had his break-and-enter backpack with him, and in it he had a lock pick, but he wasn’t super quick at picking locks, and it was the middle of the day. It would look suspicious if someone caught him fiddling with the lock.
Instead, he’d dropped the backpack on the ground, told Pharos to guard it, and climbed the crisscross bars. He believed he could’ve climbed to where the solid wall took over, butsomeone had spotted him.
It wasn’t in use, so there shouldn’t have been a lighthouse keeper, but a man had come out of the small house situated nearby.
Kazimir had jumped down, grabbed the backpack and Pharos, who was waiting for him at the bottom, and ran. He hadn’t believed the idiot would chase him.
“Almost there.” He hugged Pharos a little tighter as he aimed for the cattle grid. His car was on the opposite side of the field, and luckily, the cows were hanging out at the other end of the pasture.
He didn’t have a clue how Pharos reacted around cows, and he didn’t want to find out. Especially not since they needed to get out of here, and he wasn’t allowed to run on his cast.
Kazimir sped up as the car came into view. They crossed another cattle grid, and he put Pharos down to unlock the car.
“In you go, bud.” He opened the passenger door and huffed as he lifted Pharos and put him on the seat. He’d strap him in later. He ran around the car and threw himself inside. He fumbled with the key for a bit, but got the car started and drove off.
He looked in the rearview mirror. The man had stopped by the first cattle grid. Kazimir didn’t think he’d be able to see his license plate from there.
“We did it!” He held up his palm to Pharos for a high five and got a yip in return. They’d have to practice more. He could do a high five if Kazimir held a treat in his other hand.
He drove for a minute or two before he stopped and put the seatbelt harness on Pharos. Then he blew out a breath and got them rolling again. “Time for some ice cream, don’t you think?”
Pharos only panted, tongue lolling, which Kazimir took as a yes.
