Chapter 18 - THE LIGHTHOUSE AT THE END OF THE WORLD
The rain turned into a torrential deluge as Daniel pushed the Crown Victoria beyond its mechanical limits, the speedometer needle vibrating violently against the 120 mph mark. Route 27 was an empty ribbon of wet asphalt cutting through pitch-black pine barrens.
His thoughts raced faster than the engine.
*Why Lily?* If they just wanted the Sterling inheritance, Claire’s fake death and Victoria’s marriage to Daniel would have been enough. Why the psychological torment? Why break Lily’s spirit on that tennis court?
Then, the memory of Victoria’s trial hit him with sickening clarity.
During cross-examination, Victoria’s high-priced attorney had tried to introduce a sealed medical file regarding Lily’s genetic lineage, which the judge had thrown out as irrelevant. Daniel had assumed it was a desperate smear campaign against Claire’s memory.
What if Lily wasn't Daniel’s daughter?
What if she wasn't Claire’s daughter either?
At 11:52 PM, the Montauk Point Lighthouse emerged from the coastal fog like a jagged black monolith. Built on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic, the historic beacon was dark, its sweeping light decommissioned years ago.
Waves crashed against the rocky shoreline eighty feet below with a sound like rolling thunder.
Daniel killed the car’s headlights a quarter-mile away, coasting the vehicle into the tall sea grass. He slipped into the storm, wearing black, carrying two extra magazines and a tactical knife strapped to his thigh.
The wind nearly tore him off his feet as he approached the base of the lighthouse. The iron service door was unlocked, rattling against its frame in the gale.
Daniel drew his weapon, slipped inside, and eased the heavy door shut.
The spiraling iron staircase wound upward into suffocating darkness. The only sound was the howling wind outside and the rhythmic, hollow drip of rainwater leaking through the old brick masonry.
He began his climb, stepping lightly on the balls of his feet, keeping his back against the curved stone wall.
One flight. Two flights. Four flights.
At the sixth landing, he heard it.
A voice. Soft, melodious, singing an old French lullaby that Daniel hadn't heard in five years.
*Fais dodo, Colas mon p'tit frère...*
It was the song Claire used to sing to Lily when she was a baby.
May you like
Daniel’s chest tightened to the point of agony. He raised his gun, rounded the final spiral of the staircase, and kicked open the steel hatch that led out onto the glass-enclosed lantern room.
***
