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)
She opened her laptop and began typing:
Research Log - October 22, 1999
Received an anonymous note requesting a meeting. Note writer has access to the school building and knowledge of my research. that “it’s better not to ask some questions” The pattern suggests the investigation has uncovered something significant.
Need to research: Who has the power to limit entry to historical records? What legal or political connections might the Aldrich family have? Have other researchers asked similar questions?
Decision: Attend meeting but bring backup. Document everything. Prepare for the possibility that the lighthouse project has revealed something more dangerous than historical curiosity.
As she wrote, Lily felt something shift inside her. The curious student who had started this project was being replaced by someone more determined, more suspicious, more willing to take risks for truth. The anonymous note writer had made a mistake—instead of frightening her away, they’d confirmed that her research was on the right track.
Tomorrow’s meeting would be a test. If they wanted to intimidate her, she’d show them that intimidation wouldn’t work. If they wanted to buy her silence, she’d make it clear that her principles weren’t for sale.
And if they wanted to threaten her, she’d make sure she was prepared to fight back.
The girl who had started researching lighthouse history was gone. In her place sat someone who understood that the most important discoveries often came with the highest costs—and who was beginning to think those costs might be worth paying.
Outside her window, the lighthouse beam swept across the harbor as it had for nearly 150 years. But tonight, instead of feeling like a protective guardian, it felt like a warning signal—a reminder that some truths were protected by more than just the passage of time.
The game had changed. The stakes had risen. And Lily Morrison was ready to play by new rules.
eleven
The newspaper morgue reeked of decaying paper and forgotten secrets. Lily hunched over stacks of microfilm boxes, her eyes burning from hours of staring at the projection screen. Research into Catherine Hartwell’s death had become something far darker.
She’d uncovered the pattern.
It stretched back decades, buried among routine obituaries and accident reports. Dr. James Whitmore, the maritime historian, who’d drowned in 1978. Margaret Thornton, the graduate student who’d vanished in 1967. Professor William Morrison, heart attack in 1983. Catherine Hartwell, suicide in 1923.
All had researched the lighthouse.
Lily’s notebook sprawled open beside her, crammed with dates, names, and circumstances. Red ink marked suspicious deaths, blue tracked their research, and black recorded official explanations. The evidence emerged with photographic clarity.
Every ten to fifteen years, someone arrived in Westerly Cove asking questions about the lighthouse’s history. They visited the library, examined old records, and interviewed local residents. They discovered something important.
Then they died.
Methods varied. Drowning, heart attack, suicide, disappearance. But timing remained constant—within weeks of their discoveries, when their research threatened someone. Investigations stayed cursory, conducted by local officials who found exactly what they expected.
Lily loaded another microfilm reel, hands trembling. The Westerly Cove Herald from March 1923 scrolled past in black and white. She slowed when she reached Catherine Hartwell’s death date.
LOCAL WOMAN DIES IN LIGHTHOUSE TRAGEDY Catherine Hartwell, 28, of Boston, died at the base of Westerly Cove Light yesterday morning. Police Chief Samuel Morrison ruled the death a suicide, noting that Miss Hartwell had been despondent over recent personal difficulties. She had been staying at the Seaside Inn while conducting research for her doctoral thesis on New England maritime history.
“It’s a terrible tragedy,” said inn proprietor Margaret Whitman. “She appeared to be such a bright young woman. But she’d been acting strangely the past few days, talking about conspiracies and cover-ups. I think the isolation and pressure of her research had affected her mind.”
Winston Aldrich, lighthouse supervisor, discovered the body during his morning inspection. “She must have climbed the fence sometime during the night,” he said. “Poor girl. These academic types can get too wrapped up in their work, losing perspective on reality.”
Miss Hartwell will be buried in Boston, where she attended university.
Lily stared at the article, her pulse hammering against her throat. Winston Aldrich—that family name from the current lighthouse administration. Her father mentioned a Gerald Aldrich, the current keeper. How many generations of Aldriches had controlled lighthouse operations?
Where were Catherine’s research materials?
The microfilm advanced to the next day’s edition. A small notice caught her attention:
RESEARCHER’S BELONGINGS DESTROYED IN FIRE A fire at the Seaside Inn last night destroyed the personal effects of Catherine Hartwell, the Boston researcher who died earlier this week. Inn proprietor Margaret Whitman said the blaze appeared to start in Miss Hartwell’s room, possibly from an overturned lamp. No other guests were injured, but Miss Hartwell’s research materials and personal papers were completely destroyed.
“It’s another tragedy,” said Whitman. “First the poor girl takes her own life, now this. Almost like someone doesn’t want her work to continue.”