Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
They believed themselves untouchable. They trusted their money and influence for eternal protection.
They would learn otherwise.
She had several more days to gather the final evidence, to document everything, and create a record that would survive her potential death.
Then she would act.
Knowledge’s weight crushed her while simultaneously clarifying everything. She understood her duty, even if she faced it alone.
The investigation would continue.
ten
The note waited in Lily’s locker when she arrived at school Thursday morning, someone having slipped it through the vents during the night like a snake finding its way into a garden. Plain white paper, computer-printed text, no signature:
Your research interests are noted. Some local history requires special permission to access. Perhaps a meeting would be beneficial.
Friday, 3:30 PM, Harbor Park gazebo.
Come alone.
Lily read it three times, her hands shaking against the paper. Someone knew about her investigation. Someone had tracked her movements, her schedule, her routine with surgical precision. The casual mention of “special permissions” sounded like code—a polite way of saying she’d crossed a line she hadn’t known existed.
She jammed the note between the pages of her history textbook. During algebra, her eyes kept drifting to the windows. In English, she studied every face in the hallway, cataloging expressions, searching for tells.
At lunch, she pulled Sarah aside and showed her the note.
Sarah’s face drained of color. “Jesus, Lily. This is—who would send this?”
“I don’t know. But they know about my research. They know where my locker is.”
“Or they know someone who does.” Sarah scanned the cafeteria like a rabbit checking for hawks. “This is terrifying. Really terrifying. Maybe you should just stop the project. Choose a different topic.”
“I can’t just stop. I’ve already committed to the lighthouse for my presentation.”
“So lie. Tell Mrs. Henderson you couldn’t find enough source material. Tell her the records were damaged beyond reading. Tell her anything except the truth.”
Lily stared at her best friend. “You really think I should quit?”
“I think you should stay safe. This note—it’s not a request, Lily. It’s a summons. Someone powerful enough to come into school, someone who knows your schedule, someone who talks about ‘special permissions’ like they control access to public records.”
“All the more reason to keep digging.”
Sarah grabbed her arm. “Listen to yourself. You’re talking as if this is some movie. Like you’re a detective hunting clues. But real people with real power don’t send polite notes requesting meetings. They call your parents, or they talk to the principal, or they contact the teacher directly.”
“Then why didn’t they?”
“Because they can’t. Because whatever they’re protecting isn’t legal or legitimate. Because they need to handle this off the books.” Sarah’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Lily, what if you’ve stumbled onto something actually dangerous? What if this isn’t just about lighthouse history?”
The question hung between them. Lily had been so focused on the historical mystery that she hadn’t considered present-day implications. But Sarah was right—legitimate authorities didn’t operate through unidentified messages and hidden assemblies.
“I have to go,” Lily said finally. “I have to find out what they want.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“The note says to come alone.”
“The note came from someone who breaks into high school lockers. I’m not letting you face that alone.”
Warmth spread through Lily’s chest, but cold certainty followed. If this were dangerous, she couldn’t risk Sarah’s safety. “What if they’re watching? What if they see you there?”
“Then they’ll know you have friends who care about you. Maybe that will make them think twice about whatever they’re planning.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of nervous energy and mounting paranoia. Lily studied faces in the hallways, cataloging expressions. She noticed things she’d never paid attention to before—the way certain teachers avoided eye contact, the presence of unfamiliar cars in the school parking lot, the fact that the librarian seemed unusually interested in which books she checked out.
During her free period, she went to the library and researched who might have the authority to restrict access to historical records. The Westerly Cove Historical Society was a private organization, who worked closely with the town government and the lighthouse commission. Property records showed that the lighthouse itself belonged to the federal government but operated through a complex arrangement involving state and local authorities.
And then there were the Aldriches. Every thread of lighthouse history led back to them—the family that had provided keepers for generations, that still held property adjacent to the lighthouse, that had connections to local politics and business. If anyone had the power to control access to lighthouse records, it would be them.
Mrs. Warren approached her table. “Finding everything you need, dear?”
“Actually, I was wondering about access to private family records. Like, if someone wanted to research the Aldrich family history, what would they need to do?”
The librarian’s expression shifted—a barely perceptible tightening around her eyes. “That would depend on what kind of records you’re looking for. Public documents are available through the town clerk’s office, but private family papers would require permission from the family directly.”