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Back The Lighthouse Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. PART ONE
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 8
  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. PART TWO
  13. 12
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 18
  18. 19
  19. 21
  20. 22
  21. 23
  22. 24
  23. 25
  24. 26
  25. 27
  26. 28
  27. 30
  28. 31
  29. 32
  30. 33
  31. 34
  32. 35
  33. 36
  34. 37
  35. 38
  36. 39
  37. 40
  38. 41
  39. 42
  40. 43
  41. PART THREE
  42. 44
  43. 45
  44. 46
  45. 47
  46. 49
  47. 50
  48. 51
  49. 52
  50. EPILOGUE

And she didn’t mind at all. Not one bit.

25

25

The mood at the lighthouse was quieter than Amy and Ryan had expected. The crowd, which had been full of bravado a few minutes ago, now seemed uncharacteristically subdued, as though it was only just dawning on them what they were there to do. They had organized themselves into a semicircle behind the ringed wire fence and were barely making a sound. The only murmur of conversation came from a few near the front, too far away for Amy and Ryan to make out. Amy stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck, but they were stranded at the back and couldn’t see a thing—just a sea of heads, hundreds of them.

“What’s going on?” she whispered into Ryan’s ear. “Why’s everyone so quiet?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe they’ve got cold feet?” Despite his height advantage, Ryan couldn’t see much either. “Come with me,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “Let’s get closer.”

With Amy following in his slipstream, Ryan squeezed and bumped through the mass of bodies and staked out a spot right up against the fence, a perfect place from which to see everything going on. Ryan took a moment and looked around. A quick glance at the crowd confirmed to him what he already suspected: these were all locals. He recognized every single face, including one of particular interest: Handsome Frank. Seeing Frank wasn’t any great surprise—he was a stalwart of the town and a long-time believer in the spooky folklore of the lighthouse. But what interested Ryan was where Frank happened to be standing (front and center) and what he’d brought with him (a considerably large toolbox).

“Ah, there’s the culprit,” Ryan said.

Amy turned around. “Who?”

“Frank from the hardware store. Guarantee you he’s the one who has spearheaded this.”

“You mean Frank, as in Handsome Frank?”

“That’s him.”

Frank was tall, standing well over six feet, with a perfectly manicured pencil mustache and a head of slick brown hair that was evenly swept back. Next to him, standing just as tall with a baseball cap spun backward, was someone younger and strikingly similar, far too similar not to be related.

“I’m guessing that’s his son beside him?”

“Yep, Frank Junior.”

“Of course.”

The two Franks and a few others appeared to be engaged in a serious discussion. The focus of the deliberations, which were taking a very long time, seemed to concern the issue of who was going to break in.

“Are they actually going to do anything?” Amy remarked. “Or are they are going to spend the night talking about it?”