Emboldened by the cheers, he exchanged the cutters for a hammer and turned his attention to the next challenge: the boarded-up door. But this didn’t go as smoothly. He stuck the claw of the hammer underneath one of the planks and pulled as hard as he could, but the plank was fixed to the wall with large nails and refused to budge. He persisted for a while longer, but it was clear he was going to need some help.

“Wait there, Son! I’m coming!”

Handsome Frank rummaged in his toolbox. He pulled out a crowbar and clambered through the hole to join his son. Coordinating their efforts, they wedged their tools behind the timber and, with brute strength and clenched faces, managed to rip the plank clear from the wall. A small glimpse of the lighthouse door was revealed.

The Franks stepped back to admire their handiwork. However, it soon became obvious to everyone watching that something wasn’t right. A section of the door was peeking out, a sliver of blood-red wood, but unlike the rest of the building, which was in a crumbling, decrepit state, this particular piece looked immaculate. The wood was unblemished, the paintwork almost glistening.

Frank Junior stepped closer and ran his fingers across the lustrous surface. “It smells fresh!” he shouted. “Like it’s just had a brand-new coat!”

His father did the same. “Good Lord, you’re right.”

“How’s that possible, Dad? How?”

Handsome Frank was shaking his head. “I don’t know, Son. But let’s keep going.”

Amy didn’t know what to make of it, and as she looked around at the crowd, she realized they didn’t either. Hundreds of awestruck faces surrounded her, countless pairs of eyes, puzzled and perplexed, every one of them glued to the lighthouse in anticipation of what was going to happen next. All except for one pair of eyes—a pair fixed on her instead.

Through the sea of bodies and shadowy faces, she spotted him: that same man she’d seen earlier at the bar. A plunging sensation took hold in her stomach. There was that same ice in his gaze, cold and empty, just like before.

“Ryan, who is that?”

But Ryan couldn’t hear her over all the noise. The two Franks had just pried away a second plank, and the crowd was once again finding its voice, erupting into a cheer so loud that it completely drowned her out.

“Ryan,” she said louder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He turned at once. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Amy pointed her finger straight into the crowd, to where the man had been standing. But it was too late—he had already disappeared.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Huh?”

“He’s gone . . .”

“What?”

“The man I saw. Where did he go?”

“Amy, I can’t hear you.”

The Franks were working double time—another plank had just come off and the applause was growing louder.