Chapter 6
SIX
brooks
Brooks spread Lily’s research across his desk at the station. Martha had given him the box yesterday afternoon, and he’d spent most of the evening reviewing the contents. Now, in the early morning quiet before the shift change, he could focus on what the seventeen-year-old had discovered.
The notebooks detailed an organized investigation into the lighthouse’s role during Prohibition.
Lily had tracked smuggling routes, corrupt officials, and money changing hands.
She’d been building a case about crimes that occurred decades before she was born, but her notes suggested the operation hadn’t ended with Prohibition.
One page caught his attention. She’d created a timeline of researchers and journalists who had investigated the lighthouse over the decades. Beside each name, she’d noted what happened:
Catherine Hartwell (1923) - “Fell” from lighthouse, ruled suicide
Dr. James Whitmore (1956) - Drowned when sailboat capsized
Margaret Thornton (1967) - Disappeared, never found
Various others, all meeting unfortunate ends or leaving town suddenly
The pattern went back a century.
Brooks pulled out his phone and texted Officer Daniels.
Brooks: Need you to pull death certificates and police reports for the names I’m sending. Going back to 1923.
He photographed Lily’s list and sent it over. If the Aldrich family had been eliminating threats for generations, there would be evidence. Convenient accidents left trails.
His office phone rang. Chief Sullivan.
“Brooks, we’ve got a situation. Mrs. Rena Zamil called in. Says someone broke into her garden shed last night. Normally I’d send Daniels, but she specifically asked for you.”
Brooks remembered the name from Lily’s case file. Mrs. Zamil had been the witness whose statements changed between interviews. “I’ll head over now.”
The Zamil house sat two blocks from the lighthouse, close enough that the keeper’s cottage was visible from the front windows. Mrs. Zamil met him at the door, a woman in her eighties with sharp eyes and trembling hands.
“Detective Harrington. Thank you for coming.”
“Chief Sullivan said you had a break-in?”
“The shed. Nothing taken, but things were moved around. Boxes opened, papers scattered.” She led him through the house to the back garden. “I wouldn’t have called except for what I found this morning.”
The shed door stood ajar. Inside, cardboard boxes lined the walls, most labeled with dates and contents in faded marker. Mrs. Zamil pointed to one box near the back, its lid askew.
“That one contains old photographs and papers from when my late husband worked for the town. He was on the volunteer search team when that poor Morgan girl went missing.”
Brooks pulled on gloves and examined the box. Someone had rifled through it recently. Photographs lay scattered across the top, and several manila folders had been pulled out and hastily shoved back.
“Mrs. Zamil, do you know what was in these folders?”
“Search grid maps, volunteer assignments, witness statements. Dennis kept copies of everything from the search. He said the official investigation felt incomplete.”
“How did Dennis get copies of witness statements?”
She looked around, almost as if checking to see if anyone else was nearby. “Chief Morrison was careless, often asked for volunteers to do things around the station. Dennis saw an opportunity because had concerns about how Chief Morrison handled things.”
Brooks felt a chill. “What kind of concerns?”
“The hidden cove. Dennis noticed it wasn’t included in the search grid, even though it appeared on all the coastal survey maps.
When he asked Morrison about it, he was told the cove was inaccessible and didn’t need searching.
” Mrs. Zamil’s hands clenched. “Dennis went there anyway, on his own. He found evidence someone had been there recently. Disturbed sand, fresh marks on the rocks. He took photographs and gave them to Morrison.”
“What happened?”
“Morrison told him the photographs showed natural erosion and ordered him to stop spreading rumors that would upset Mrs. Morgan. Dennis backed down. He had a family to support, and Morrison made it clear that pursuing the issue would cost him his job with the town.” She met Brooks’s eyes.
“But he kept his copies of everything. Just in case.”
“Are those photographs still here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They’re gone. Whoever broke in took Dennis’s photographs of the cove and his notes about what he found there. They left everything else.”
Brooks examined the box more carefully. Whoever had searched it knew exactly what they wanted.
“Mrs. Zamil, I need to ask you about your witness statements from 1999. You gave two different descriptions of what Lily was wearing the day she went missing.”
The elderly woman’s face crumpled. “I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me that for twenty-five years.”
“You can tell me the truth now.”
“The first statement was accurate. I saw Lily wearing a red jacket and carrying a black camera bag. I remember because red was her favorite color.” Mrs. Zamil’s voice shook.
“Two days later, Chief Morrison came to my house. He said I must have been confused, that other witnesses saw her in a blue sweater with no bag. He suggested I correct my statement before it caused problems for the investigation.”
“He pressured you to change your story.”
“He implied my memory was faulty. Made it clear that contradicting the official narrative would reflect poorly on me.” She looked at the scattered photographs.
“I’ve regretted my cowardice every day since.
If I’d stood firm, maybe the investigation would have followed different leads. Maybe they would have found her.”
Brooks made careful notes. “Mrs. Zamil, the break-in suggests someone is worried about what Dennis documented. I need to know everything he told you about that cove.”
“He said he found fresh tire tracks leading to the water’s edge.
The sand showed signs of recent boat activity.
And there were marks on the rock face that suggested someone had been climbing down to a lower area that wasn’t visible from above.
” She hesitated. “Dennis thought there might be a cave or tunnel entrance down there. He wanted to investigate further, but Morrison forbade it.”
“Did Dennis ever go back?”
“Not that I know of. But he kept watching the area. He noticed boats coming and going at odd hours, always at night. He documented what he could from a distance.” Mrs. Zamil’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“A week after Lily disappeared, Dennis told me he was going to contact the state police. He said the local investigation was compromised and someone outside Westerly Cove needed to know what he’d found. ”
“What happened?”
“He died of a heart attack two days later. Fifty-three years old, no history of heart problems, perfectly healthy.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Just like Robert Morgan six months after that. Just like everyone who got too close to the truth.”
Brooks felt the pieces clicking into place. A coordinated effort to silence witnesses and eliminate evidence. Dennis Zamil had been another victim of the same operation that killed Lily Morgan and her father.
“Mrs. Zamil, I’m going to have the state crime scene techs process your shed for evidence. And I need you to think carefully about whether Dennis kept any other copies of his documentation. Hidden somewhere the person who broke in wouldn’t know to look.”
She considered this. “Dennis’s mother lived in the house on Elm Street until she passed in 2010.
After she died, I cleared out her attic and found a box of Dennis’s things she’d been storing.
I brought it home but never went through it properly.
” She paused. “It’s in my basement. I’d forgotten about it until now. ”
Twenty minutes later, Brooks carried the dusty box out to his car. Mrs. Zamil had insisted he take it immediately, her fear apparent. Someone had broken into her shed looking for evidence. If they realized Dennis had made additional copies, they might come back.
Back at the station, Brooks locked his office door and opened the box. Inside: more photographs, handwritten notes, and a manila envelope marked “FOR AUTHORITIES IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME.”
He opened the envelope carefully. Dennis Zamil’s notes detailed everything he’d observed at the hidden cove. The photographs showed tire tracks, disturbed sand, and most importantly, what appeared to be a concealed entrance in the rock face at the base of the cliff.
Dennis had documented dates and times of suspicious boat activity over several weeks following Lily’s disappearance. He’d noted vehicle descriptions and partial license plate numbers. He’d even managed to photograph two men loading wooden crates from a boat onto a truck at three in the morning.
The photographs were grainy and taken from a distance, but Brooks recognized the location. The same hidden cove where Vivienne’s vision had led them. The same cove that hadn’t been searched during the official investigation.
His phone buzzed. Daniels.
Officer Daniels
Got the records you requested. You need to see this. Six of the deaths on that list were investigated by Chief Morrison. All ruled accidental or natural causes. No autopsies performed on any of them.
Brooks stared at the message, then at Dennis Zamil’s photographs. The corruption went deeper than he’d thought. Morrison hadn’t just covered up Lily’s murder. He’d been protecting an operation for years, possibly decades.
Another text from Daniels.
Officer Daniels: Also found something weird. Morrison’s accident report from 2000 was filed by a deputy from the county sheriff’s office. Deputy’s name was Kenneth Morrison. David Morrison’s brother.
So the family had investigated itself. Convenient.
Brooks organized the evidence into chronological order.
Between Lily’s research, Dennis’s documentation, and the official case files with their suspicious gaps, a picture was forming.
The Aldrich family had run a smuggling operation from the lighthouse for generations.
The Morrison family, as police chiefs, had protected them.
Anyone who discovered the truth was silenced.
And now Melissa had vanished while researching the same history.
His phone rang. Vivienne.
“Brooks, I need you to come to The Mystic Cup. I’ve had another vision, and this one was different.
Clearer. I saw the cave Dennis Zamil photographed.
There’s an entrance to the tunnel system there.
That’s how they’ve been moving contraband.
That’s where Lily found the evidence that got her killed. ”
“How did you know about Dennis Zamil’s photographs?”
A pause. “I didn’t. I saw the location in my vision and recognized it from old survey maps of the coastline. Who’s Dennis Zamil?”
Brooks explained quickly about the break-in and the evidence he’d recovered. Vivienne’s vision had led her to the same location Dennis had documented decades ago, without any knowledge of his investigation.
“Brooks, there’s more. In the vision, I saw Lily hiding something in that cave before they caught her. A recording device. She was documenting everything she found. If we can locate what she hid, it might still have evidence on it.”
“After twenty-five years?”
“It’s worth checking. If Lily was as careful as her mother claims, she would have used something waterproof, something that could survive.” Vivienne’s voice carried urgency. “We need to search that cave before whoever broke into Mrs. Zamil’s shed realizes there’s evidence still hidden there.”
Brooks checked his watch. Four in the afternoon. Enough daylight left for a preliminary investigation. “I’ll meet you at the lighthouse in thirty minutes. Bring flashlights and climbing gear if you have it.”
“Brooks, we should tell Chief Sullivan.”
“Not yet. If the Morrison family compromised the investigation before, I need to know the current chief can be trusted. He’s been helpful so far, but his father went missing in 1978 while investigating the lighthouse.
That disappearance was never solved. I need to be sure Sullivan isn’t part of the cover-up before I bring him into this. ”
Vivienne agreed, though he could hear her reluctance. They were going into a potentially dangerous situation without backup, following leads that had gotten multiple people killed.
But they were also the first investigators to piece together evidence from multiple sources, to see the full scope of the operation. For the first time in a quarter century, someone had a chance to expose the truth.
Brooks secured the evidence in the station safe, after making additional copies, and left a note for Sullivan explaining where he’d be and why. If something happened to him, the chief would find the documentation.
Then he headed for the lighthouse, where Vivienne waited beside her car, a backpack slung over her shoulder and determination in her eyes.
Time to find out what Lily Morgan had hidden in the cave. Time to discover whether her courage decades ago could still bring justice today.
Because if the pattern held, Melissa had very little time left. And the only way to save her was to follow the trail Lily had blazed when she died trying to expose the truth.