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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

Kevin opened the folder and glanced over the case notes one last time, just to remind himself where he and Amy were headed. Then, to acquaint himself with the shortest possible route, as well as to defer the task of heading home and convincing his daughter of their impromptu road trip, he pulled up the map function on his phone and typed in the name of the town.

Point of destination: Seabrook.

3

3

It had been three weeks since the accident, and not a moment went by when Amy didn’t feel like bursting into tears. All she could think about was her mother—about how much she loved her and missed her, and how much it hurt that they never got a chance to say goodbye.

The funeral hadn’t helped, not that Amy thought it would. No amount of flowers, kind speeches, or sympathetic hugs could possibly bring her any comfort, or change the fact that her mother would still be here if she hadn’t gotten in the car that morning, or if she’d left just one minute earlier, or one minute later, or if the driver of the other vehicle had bothered to look up from their phone and see that the light was red. If any one of those things had happened then her body wouldn’t be buried in the ground, and Amy wouldn’t be forced to endure this nightmare, forced to confront a future that now seemed so unbearably bleak.

Sometimes she wondered if the pain would ever go away. It was constant, like being stuck on a treadmill, a vicious cycle of anger and sorrow with no finish line in sight and no way of getting off. And what made it worse was that everyone seemed to want to help. Her father was on her case all the time, incessantly trying to get her to start “living normally” again, as though doing so might fast-track her through her grief, and her best friend had made a point of turning up every day to check in on her, a routine that seemed to imply Amy was fragile and delicate and in constant need of being watched. Amy appreciated that people were worried, and she was sure they meant well, but their persistent efforts to try to steer her through this emotional minefield only made the road ahead seem even more daunting and hopeless.

Like clockwork, though, while Amy was locked away in her room, staring at her laptop and perusing yet another website dedicated to “overcoming loss,” the familiar rattle of Sam’s car could be heard pulling up outside. Amy considered crawling under her sheets and pretending she wasn’t there, but Sam was nothing if not persistent. And it seemed today would be no exception.