Chapter 12
twelve
Lily’s eyes snapped open before dawn on Halloween morning. Through her window, the lighthouse beam swept across the harbor in steady pulses, each rotation marking time toward the confrontation that would determine everything.
The house breathed around her—her father’s alarm would sound in an hour, her mother stirred in the kitchen below. Tuesday morning sounds in a life that would end tonight.
Every document, every artifact, every piece of evidence that proved the Aldrich family’s crimes. Create an irrefutable record no one could dismiss or bury.
Gerald Aldrich would wait for her. His polite threats yesterday had made that clear, community concern masking violence. But time had run out.
Lily chose death.
Dark jeans, a black sweater, sturdy boots. Her camera bag sat beside her desk, loaded with fresh film and extra batteries. The tunnel map she’d drawn from memory folded into her pocket.
Her journal lay open to last night’s entry, words that read as prayer and promise: I’ve become someone who understands that history is made by people who choose to stand up for truth, even when it costs them everything.
Steam rose from the kitchen. Her mother stood at the stove making pancakes—Lily’s favorite breakfast. The normalcy cut through her chest.
“You’re up early.” Martha didn’t turn from the stove. “I thought you might want a good breakfast before school.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Lily sank into her chair, studying her mother’s profile. Would this be the last time she’d see her making breakfast, humming softly, hair mussed from sleep?
Martha set golden pancakes before her. “Eat. You need your strength for that presentation today.”
The presentation. Her senior project deadline—she’d almost forgotten. In hours, she’d stand before her history class and present lighthouse research while hiding everything she’d really discovered.
Lily ate slowly, memorizing each bite, her mother’s cooking rich with love and seventeen years of shared breakfasts. Light and sweet, perfect pancakes that might be her last.
“I love you, Mom.” The words tumbled out.
Martha’s eyebrows lifted. “I love you too, sweetheart. You don’t usually get sentimental over breakfast.”
“I’m grateful. For everything. For you and Dad and this house and . . .” Lily gestured around the kitchen. “All of it.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. But you’re acting mysterious lately.” Martha settled across from her. “Is everything okay? You’ve seemed different the past few weeks.”
Different. The investigation had transformed her, changing a curious teenager into something harder and more determined. She’d lost her innocence about her town, her family, her own safety. She’d gained a terrible understanding of how evil hides behind respectability.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about the future.”
“College applications stress everyone out. But you’ll get in wherever you want to go. You’re smart and hardworking and—”
“Mom.” Lily reached across the table and caught her mother’s hand. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that you raised me right. You taught me to care about truth and justice and protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”
Martha squeezed back. “Now you’re really worrying me. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just wanted you to know.”
Robert appeared in the doorway, hair sticking up, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. “Morning, ladies. Something smells good.”
“Pancakes.” Martha stood to fix him a plate. “Your daughter’s being unusually affectionate this morning.”
“Is she?” Robert studied Lily’s face. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
“Everything’s fine, Dad.” She stood and wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent of coffee and lighthouse machinery. “I’m just happy to be here with you both.”
He hugged back, arms strong and protective. For a heartbeat, she felt safe in a way she hadn’t in weeks. But safety had become an illusion she couldn’t afford.
“I should get ready for school.” She stepped back.
“Your presentation’s today, right?” Robert asked. “The lighthouse project?”
“Yes. This afternoon.”
“I’m proud of you for choosing something about our local history. Not everyone would for a school assignment.”
If only he knew how deep that history ran. How many secrets the lighthouse held. How much danger his daughter faced because of it.
“I learned a lot.”
The school day blurred past in forced normalcy. Morning classes, lunch with Sarah, smiles and nods at appropriate moments. But her mind ran elsewhere, checking final preparations and contingency plans.
Five different locations around town held copies of her evidence. Sarah had a package with instructions to open if Lily disappeared. Dr. Coleman had another.
During lunch, she said goodbye without saying goodbye.
“Want to come over tonight?” Sarah stabbed at her salad. “We could work on that calculus homework together.”
“I can’t. I have things to finish up.”
Sarah studied her friend’s face. “You’ve been acting strange lately. More than usual, I mean. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m fine. Just stressed about senior year stuff.”
“Well, if you need to talk about anything, you know I’m here, right?”
Lily nodded, her throat closing. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Okay, now you’re being weird. Since when do you get sentimental?”
“Since I realized how lucky, I am to have you in my life.”
Sarah smiled, but her eyes remained worried. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Another lie. By tomorrow, she’d be triumphant or dead.
Her presentation went well. She stood before her history class and spoke about the lighthouse’s construction, its role in maritime safety, and the families who had tended it over decades. She showed photographs of the exterior, architectural drawings, and shipping records from the town archives.
She spoke about keepers who had dedicated their lives to protecting ships from the dangerous rocks of Westerly Cove. She talked about the community’s relationship with the lighthouse, how it had become a symbol of safety and guidance.
She didn’t mention the tunnels. She didn’t mention the Aldriches. She didn’t mention the murders, or smuggling, or corruption that had infected her town for generations.
“In conclusion,” she said, standing beside her display, “the Hawthorne Point Lighthouse represents not just a structure, but a tradition of service and sacrifice. The people who have cared for it have done so knowing that their work protects others, sometimes at great personal cost.”
The class applauded politely. Mrs. Henderson praised her thoroughness and asked questions about her research methods. No one suspected that the girl presenting had uncovered one of the most extensive criminal operations in the state’s history.
After class, Lily packed up her presentation materials with steady hands. Tonight, she’d discover if her real research was worth the cost.
She spent the afternoon at the harbor, perched on the rocky outcropping where she and Sarah had shared so many conversations. The October wind cut cold, carrying salt and seaweed, and waves crashed against the rocks in a steady rhythm.
Here she’d first started thinking seriously about her senior project, back when she believed the lighthouse held only historical mysteries. Now she knew it held something far more dangerous—and far more important.
She pulled out her journal and wrote what might be her final entry:
Tonight I’ll enter the lighthouse knowing the Aldriches will be waiting. I’ll try to gather the evidence that will expose their crimes and bring justice for their victims. I’ll try to survive long enough to see them brought to trial.
But I’m also prepared for the possibility that I won’t make it out alive. If that happens, I hope the evidence I’ve hidden will be enough to continue the fight. I hope the letters I’ve written will help people understand why I made this choice.
My hands shake as I write this. My stomach knots with each wave that crashes below. But underneath the terror runs something else—a strange peace. I know I’m doing the right thing. I know some truths are worth dying for.
Margaret Thornton was worth dying for. Dr. Whitmore was worth dying for. All the people who might be killed in the future if this criminal operation continues—they’re worth dying for.
I’ve become someone who understands that history is made by people who choose to stand up for the truth, even when it costs them everything.
If I don’t survive tonight, I hope I’ll be remembered not as a victim, but as someone who chose to fight. I hope my death will mean something, will contribute to justice, and will help protect future generations from the darkness that has plagued this town for too long.
I love my parents. I love Sarah. I love this town enough to die for it.
Whatever happens tonight, I’m ready.
- Lily
She closed the journal and stood, brushing sand from her jeans. The lighthouse beam was beginning to show against the darkening sky, and she could see her father’s silhouette in the lamp room, checking the equipment one last time before his shift ended.
Time to go home. Time to make her final preparations.
Dinner passed in silence. Her parents seemed to sense something had shifted, but they didn’t push. Martha made Lily’s favorite meal—meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans. Robert talked about his day at the lighthouse, routine maintenance and equipment checks.
Lily memorized every detail. The way her father’s hands moved when he described repairing the beacon motor. The sound of her mother’s laugh when he told a story about a confused tourist. The warm light from the kitchen chandelier cast gentle shadows on their faces.
“I have homework to finish.” She stood after helping clear the table.
“Don’t stay up too late.” Martha’s eyes followed her. “You look tired.”
“I won’t.” Another lie in an evening full of them.