by Tim Myers
“Come on,” Michelle said with a laugh. “Jackson had a way of agitating people by his very nature. He could have pushed any of them until they snapped.”
Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t wash, and the police will see that, too. You have one choice. You can try to get away, and Elise and I won’t stop you. Who knows? If you get a big enough head start, you might just escape.”
“The roads are closed, remember?” she said, not bothering to deny his accusations any more.
“You can take my truck. You could probably get through,” Alex said, though he doubted it would get far in the sand.
Michelle shook her head, and Alex saw the knife-blade draw blood from Elise’s neck. “Nice try, but you’re not in any position to dictate my behavior. What is it with you men? Do you think of all women as helpless little creatures you need to order around, or worse yet, protect? That was the trouble with Bartholomew. My unfortunate husband thought he could save me, the poor thing, and when he finally realized that he couldn’t, he tried to throw me away. I didn’t go cheaply, though. With his divorce settlement, I won’t have to worry about money ever again.”
“He wasn’t smart enough to get a pre-nup?” Alex asked.
She laughed. “The fool was in love, and I decided to make him pay for it. Danvers was going to blow that, so he had to go. He didn’t even suspect that I’d come after him, can you believe that?”
“No, I don’t,” Alex said. “I think that’s what the match book was all about. He wrote a note that you were with Benning, but that he had to watch you, too. That’s what the M2? Entry meant; I’d bet my life on it.”
“You may not realize it, but you already have.” She shrugged. “Keep your note. I’ll take it off your dead body later. Jackson must have seen me leaving Danvers’ cottage. He told me he was going to get half my money, but I never gave him a chance to tell me how. It was amazing how easy it was to twist that sash until he couldn’t breathe. He fought hard, but it was no use. I was too strong for him.”
“Okay, you win,” Alex said, knowing this was his chance. “Here’s the note.”
He started to hand it to Michelle. If he could get her to drop her guard for a second, he’d throw himself onto the knife if it meant giving Elise a chance of getting away.
She wasn’t going to do it, though. “Throw it on the cooktop.”
He did as he was told, and as Michelle turned the burner on, he saw her grip ease ever so slightly. Alex reacted, not even thinking about what he had to do. He threw himself at her, grabbing at her hand with the knife. She instinctively lunged at him, and he felt the blade go deep into his shoulder.
“Run,” he yelled at Elise, but she wasn’t about to desert him. She grabbed for a nearby pan and swung it at Michelle’s head.
It glanced off, and Michelle picked a cast iron skillet from the rack above the island. Alex pulled the knife out of his shoulder, and cried out in pain as he did so. Elise looked at him for an instant, but it was too late. The skillet connected with her skull, and she went down in a heap on the floor.
Alex was on the ground beside her, and the blood was seeping from his shoulder wound. Michelle considered them for a moment. She was reaching for the knife to finish them off when Alex heard something banging from the lobby.
“Give up,” he croaked. “The police are here.”
“You’d better pray it’s true, but it’s probably nothing. One of the shutters probably came loose again.” She stared hard at him. “If there’s a chance your girlfriend is still alive, you’ll keep your mouth shut, or she’s dead when I get back.”
Alex nodded numbly.
The second Michelle was out of the kitchen, he crawled to Elise, holding one hand over his shoulder wound.
“Elise? Can you hear me?”
She didn’t move, and Alex thought he was going to die.
As he cried silently, Alex saw her stir.
“Alex?” she asked softly.
He touched her face lightly. “Can you stand up?”
“I think so,” she said as she pulled herself up. “My hair must have softened the blow. You’re hurt,” she added as she stared at his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” Alex said. “Help me up.”
“You shouldn’t move,” Elise said, her words slurring a bit. How hard a hit had she really taken?
“If we don’t go right this second, we’re dead.”
He managed to stand, though he was in great pain. Grabbing a dish towel, he pressed it against the wound in his shoulder. The pain ratcheted up another level, but he managed to take it.
“Where can we go?” Elise asked. “She’ll find us.”
“If she does, she does, but Elise, if we’re going to die, we’ll do it fighting. We need to get to the top of the lighthouse.”
A plan was forming in his mind. They were in no position to ambush Michelle given their injuries. Between Alex’s deep shoulder wound and Elise’s probable concussion, flight was the only option they had.
As Alex led her out the back door, Elise asked, “Why are we going up there?”
“It’s our only chance.”
Elise nodded. “If we have to die, I’d rather it be there.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Alex said. “I have an idea.”
“I hope it’s a good one,” she said, and they stumbled out together into the growing night.
After they were inside the lighthouse, Alex told Elise to lock the door.
“Do you really think that’s going to stop her?” she asked him.
“It might slow her down, and that could be all we need.”
As they started to climb the first steps together, there was a pounding at the door.
“I know you’re in there,” Michelle screamed. “Let me in.”
“No,” Alex shouted. It was clear that the police weren’t coming to their rescue. He was losing blood despite the compress, and Elise was disoriented from the blow. Things looked bad for the two of them.
“Can you make it up to the top of the stairs?” Alex asked her.
“Can you?”
“With your help,” he answered with a grin. Outside, there was a more regular pounding now, and Alex figured Michelle was using the axe to break her way in. As he and Elise stumbled up the stairs, he said, “At least this lighthouse isn’t as tall as ours.”
“I’d never make up Hatteras West,” Elise said.
When they finally got to the top, Elise looked around in vain. “What good did this do us, Alex?”
“We have to light the beacon lantern,” he said as he fumbled with the matches on a shelf beside the lantern.
“What good is that going to do? It won’t stop her.”
“No, but it will tell everyone where we are,” he said, and then added with a weak smile, “besides, our neighbor threatened to call the police if we lit it again. Can you think of any better reason?” After the matches slipped out of his hand again, he said, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to do it.”
Elise retrieved them, and then lit the mantle of the lantern. After she hung it in place, she moved back to Alex, who had slumped down against the brick side.
“Hang in there,” she said.
“Elise, there’s something you should know,” he said, and then he began to choke. Had Michelle hit something more vital than muscle when she’d stabbed him? How much longer did he have?
“Alex, save it for later. We’ll get out of this.”
“I don’t think so. Not this time. I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” she answered as she began to cry.
As he slumped down, Alex said, “I was going to ask you to marry me.”
They both were crying now as he asked, “What would you have said?”
“I would have said yes,” she answered. “I don’t want it to end like this.”
“I’m beside you, in a lighthouse, with a lit beacon,” Alex rasped out the words. “There are worse ways to go.”
“You’re not getting off th
e hook that easily,” Elise said. “You made a promise to me, and I’m going to see that you follow through with it.”
“There’s nothing left that we can do,” Alex said.
Elise kissed him, quickly but firmly. “My head’s starting to clear. We’re not finished yet.”
That’s when they both heard the door below them crash open.
A few seconds later, they heard Michelle run up the stairs toward them.
Chapter 12
Elise stood quickly, and Alex watched her as she took the lantern from its hook. “How will they know we’re here if you take the light out of the prism?” he asked, his voice getting weaker and weaker.
“It’s time for Plan B,” she said.
“I didn’t know we had one of those,” Alex said softly, but he wasn’t at all sure she’d heard him.
As Michelle neared the top landing, she called out, “It was just the wind. No one’s going to rescue you. I was going to kill you both quickly as a favor, but that’s out now. You’re going to pay for making me chase you down like dogs.”
As she neared the top step, Alex saw that Elise was pulling the lantern back to strike out at Michelle. The only problem was that she’d be able to see it coming.
He had to do something.
Screaming out in pain, Alex lunged for Michelle. She still had the fire ax in her hands, but his action startled her so much that she must have forgotten what she was holding. In the second she lost her focus, Elise brought the lit lantern down on her head. She struck Michelle with such force that the glass base holding the kerosene broke, and Michelle caught fire.
With his last gasp of breath, Alex pushed her backward, sending her tumbling down the steps, lighting the way as she fell. Each step in its turn lit from the spilled kerosene, and Alex knew that they had just a few minutes before the fire consumed them all.
That’s when he heard the shouting from below them.
On the ground, a wave of men came in at the base of the lighthouse. Alex leaned over the edge and saw them beating at the flames on Michelle, trying to stop the fire. The stairs were easier to extinguish, since they’d gotten less fuel than the killer had. They were easily extinguished with a blanket, and the last thing that Alex remembered was looking up at Elise and saying, “I’m sorry.”
And then the world went black.
Chapter 13
Alex awoke in a hospital room, but he didn’t see the cream-colored walls, the tiled ceiling, or the bed he was in.
All he saw was Elise.
He tried to talk, but he couldn’t manage more than a grunt.
Elise looked at him, tears in her eyes, and she smiled so brightly he thought his heart would explode. “Sore,” he managed to say as she delicately hugged him. “Need water.”
She gave him a sip, then another, and his throat felt instantly better.
The next thing he asked was, “Are you okay?”
“Fortunately my head’s thicker than Michelle counted on,” Elise said.
“Did she make it?” Alex asked.
“She’s in the burn ward,” was all that Elise would say.
He could see that she was distressed by what she’d been forced to do.
“You saved us.”
She shook her head. “You took a knife that was meant for me, and then you distracted her long enough for me to hit her with that lantern.”
“We saved each other, then.”
“I can live with that,” Elise said. She touched his healthy shoulder and said, “You’ll be okay soon. She didn’t do as much damage as they first thought, and as soon as you got a transfusion, your vital signs perked right up.” Elise brushed a bit of hair out of eyes and said, “It looks like you’re going to have to live up to your end of the bargain after all.”
“Bargain?” he asked, his head still swirling from what had happened.
Elise looked shattered by his reaction. Why was she acting that way? Then it all came flooding back to him. “We’re getting married,” he finally managed to say with a smile.
“If you still want to,” she answered softly.
“Try to stop me,” Alex replied, and without thinking, she started to hug him. He pulled back from the pain, and she looked at him lovingly. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure you’d still want to marry me. Alex, I won’t hold you to it. You proposed when you thought we were both going to die. It’s not fair to make you marry me.”
“No one can make me. I want it more than you know.”
“Not as much as I do. You know, it’s amazing what Michelle was willing to do just for money. I hope it never has a hold on me that way.”
Alex smiled at her. “You’re marrying an innkeeper. Being rich won’t ever be a problem for you, Elise.”
She kissed him again, and then said, “We’re rich, Alex, in every way that counts but a bank balance or a stock portfolio.”
He was about to reply when they both heard a familiar bellowing voice coming from the hallway. “He isn’t my brother by birth, but he’s still my family. Now, if you don’t move out of the way, I’m going to move you.”
“He means it,” another familiar voice said.
“It’s Mor and Emma,” Alex said with a smile.
Elise nodded. “I figured they’d be here soon. I called them as soon as you went into surgery. Now, I’d better go let them in before Mor breaks the door down.”
“I can’t wait to tell him the good news,” Alex said.
“Too late,” Elise answered with a laugh. “It was the first thing out of my mouth.”
As Elise went out to clear the way for their friends, Alex let his mind drift away. It had taken a crisis to bring them the last step together, and Alex knew that nothing short of the end of the world would ever keep them apart again.
Afterword
It all began with a lighthouse on the coast. I’ve long been a fan of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, and when I turned from writing short stories to novels, I knew that I wanted to have a lighthouse at the center of the story. But having a lighthouse wasn’t enough. In my research of occupations, I came across an article in a magazine that said the number one fear of innkeepers was dealing with the dead body of a guest. My first thought was, cool! How perfect. So I decided to create a lighthouse inn on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, not far from the real Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. I made time to take three days to visit the Outer Banks, and while there, I took careful notes and photos of the lighthouse, the main and duel keeper’s quarters, and the surrounding land, dunes, developments, and the ever present nearby ocean.
I was ready to write my book, or so I thought. And then I stopped in at a local diner, a hole in the wall where the locals met and ate. I like local color, not a place that isn’t tied to the land and the people around it.
And I found that I barely understood the folks who surrounded me. We were all from North Carolina, but it was almost as though we spoke different languages. Their idioms, mannerisms, and even their ways of thinking were different from mine, and in a sudden burst of sadness, I realized that I couldn’t write the book I wanted to write. After all, the characters of a novel are a huge part of the story for me, and I couldn’t depict these folks I didn’t know realistically. I was a product of the mountains, not the sea.
That was it! I could put the lighthouse in the mountains! And why not? This was a work of fiction, after all.
But there had to be a reason for that lighthouse to be there, not just the capricious whim of the writer.
And that’s where I was stuck.
As I rode the ferry back toward the mainland, I gave myself the ride home, about seven hours, to figure out not just why a lighthouse could be in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, but why it had to be there.
I turned off the car radio, rolled down my windows, and drove.
I was five hours into the drive, and I’d come up with—and discarded—dozens of ideas.
And then it hit me. I knew. Pulling over to the side of the road, I jotted the idea down on a
Wendy’s napkin so I wouldn’t lose it, and the rest of the way home, I started creating Hatteras West, my very own lighthouse in the mountains. The book flowed fast and furious, and I even put Bear Rocks, one of my favorite spots in the Dolly Sods Wilderness Area in West Virginia, beside the lighthouse as well. Why not surround myself with the things I loved?
I eagerly told my agent about the completed book, and she agreed to read it immediately. Less than three days after she received it, I got a telephone call.
She loved the book, but hated the lighthouse.
I was crestfallen. The lighthouse was the spine of the narrative, the hook that held everything else in place. Without the lighthouse, and what it meant to my protagonist, Alex Winston, the book was nothing. My agent’s exact words were, ‘No one will believe it, and certainly no one will buy it.’
I had a choice. Get rid of the lighthouse, or the agent.
I kept the lighthouse.
At that point, I chose an editor based on an old recommendation someone had once made and submitted the novel over the transom and into the slush pile.
Then I tried my best to forget about it and started working on something else.
Eighteen months later, I got a telephone call at 7:45 on a Thursday night.
“Is this Timothy Myers?”
This was before the Do Not Call lists, so it was a typical time for telemarketers to phone. I thought, “I don’t need new storm windows, I’m happy with my long distance carrier, and I have no need for vinyl siding.”
“It is,” I said.
“This is Kim at Berkley. I just read your book, and I’ve got to tell you, I found it quite charming.”
A wave of panic swept over me, not elation. I had no idea at that point what book I’d submitted to her, since I’d written and sent out several since then. As she continued to talk, I searched for a clue, any clue, about the book she found enchanting.
