The Lighthouse

Cassie stared at her along the barrel of the gun. Her stance was that of someone familiar with handguns, the “good shot” she’d once claimed to be-feet apart, weight evenly balanced, hands and arms and weapon steady. But her eyes… they were like windows in a house where neither lights nor fire burned. No one lived there anymore. No one to appeal to for mercy.

But Alix wouldn’t beg for her life, not even if begging would save her. She’d fight, she’d use the only weapon she had now: words. She swallowed, made herself speak, willed her voice to be steady as she did so. “You don’t want to shoot me, Cassie. We’re friends… I thought we were friends.”

No response, not even a headshake.

“You must have had a good reason for… for what you did. I’m your friend, I can help you-”

“No one can help me anymore.” Flat voice, emotionless. “I have no friends.”

“Not among the villagers, no. I know how those people are, they despise me too just because I’m an outsider-”

“Outsider. Yes, that’s right, that’s what I am.”

Keep her talking, Alix thought, try to get her to put the gun down. Or distract her, try to take it away from her.

Cassie said, “You’re afraid.”

“Of course I’m afraid. You’re pointing that gun at me. You’re the second person who’s done that tonight.”

“Second person?”

“The other one is Adam Reese. He’s outside somewhere, not far from here, and he has a rifle. That’s why I came in here, Cassie. I was afraid he’d shoot me.”

Cassie was frowning. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth! He and Mitch Notovny and Hod Barnett and Seth Bonner showed up at the lighthouse tonight, crazy drunk. Reese shot out the windows, blew up our car, broke in-”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie? They tried to kill us, Cassie, I swear it to you. I got out, ran for help, but my husband’s still trapped out there. I’ve got to call the state police. Won’t you let me do that?”

“No!”

The gun wavered, and for a sickening instant Alix thought Cassie would fire. Then the woman’s head jerked slightly to one side, as if she might have heard something outside. She listened for only a moment, but when she again gave her full attention to Alix, the critical moment had passed.

“I don’t believe you,” she repeated. “You think you can put me off my guard. Why would those men do things like that?”

“They’ve been harassing us for a week, trying to force us to leave the lighthouse-all sorts of ugly tricks. Now… I think they believe it was my husband who killed Mandy.”

Cassie was silent.

Alix said softly, “Why, Cassie? Why did you do it?”

“Why? She wanted too much, that’s why. The first time she came here and said she knew about Miranda, I gave her the five hundred dollars she asked for. She said she’d go away, but she didn’t. She came back for more.”

Miranda, Alix thought. According to the newspaper stories, that had been the name of the murdered hitchhiker-Miranda Collins. Then she remembered another fact from the news stories: Miranda had been a student at the University of Oregon. The university located in Eugene, Cassie’s former home. The university where her former husband had taught.

“Mandy knew you’d killed Miranda,” Alix said. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why she tried to blackmail you.”

“She saw me put Miranda’s body out on the cape that night. God knows why she was out there. Wild little thing. She should have known better.”

Yes, Alix thought, she should have known better. But Mandy had wanted so desperately to get out of Hilliard, and her attempt to extort money from Alix-the information she’d wanted to sell must have been nothing more than things she’d overheard Novotny and her father and the others plotting to do against the outsiders at the lighthouse. How foolish she’d been. And how dearly she’d paid for her foolishness.

Alix said, “How much more did Mandy want?”

“A thousand dollars. I don’t have that much money. I told her that when she came here the other night, while I was working late at the gallery. But she didn’t believe me, oh no. She pranced around in there, saying I must have money, look at all the expensive artwork for sale, and then she started batting the windchimes, tossing one of the big driftwood birds in the air, and she dropped the bird and it broke one of my nice chambered nautiluses. I couldn’t let her get away with that. I took her by the throat, I slapped her, I told her I’d kill her if she didn’t leave me alone. It scared her. She pulled away and went running out of the shop.”