No one comes.
I could sit down and wait, see if the guards get to me first or if Ness comes out. Now that I have a pause to think, I wonder about all those cars, what they’re doing here, why the lighthouse is empty. My fight with Ness fades for a moment as I realize something fishy is going on, as the reporter in me resurfaces from beneath the damaged lover.
What code would he use? I try his birthday every way I can think of. And then I realize who will know. But I’ve got no way to get in touch with her. I pull out my phone. One measly bar. And the battery is low from getting in late last night. I leave the sunken stairwell and walk around the lighthouse until I have two bars and the data light comes on.
I search my email inbox until I find Henry’s instructions for driving up here. There’s a number for the guard gate and one for Ness’s house in case I’m running late. I try the house number. It rings eight times before I get voicemail. I hang up, count to ten, and try back.
This time, someone answers after the third ring. A man. “Vincent?” I ask.
“Speaking,” he says.
“This is Maya Walsh. We met down by the boathouse the other day. I’m a … friend of Ness’s.” It feels painful to say, for this is both an understatement and a lie. “I need a huge favor. I need to get in touch with Victoria Carter, Ness’s ex. Can you help?”
“Sure. I don’t have her number on me, but I can track it down for you. Is this a good number to call you back?”
“How long will it take?” I ask.
“Ten minutes. I’m down at the boathouse now. Monique might have the number if you want to try her.”
“Yes. Give me her number.”
I wait while he pulls it up. I watch the woods, where I expect the guards to emerge at any moment. Vincent gives me the number, and I hang up and call Monique. She answers on the first ring.
“Monique? This is Maya Walsh, Ness’s friend, the one staying in the guest house. I need to get in touch with Victoria, Holly’s mom. Do you have her number?”
“Yes,” she says, “but I don’t think she’ll pick up. I always have to leave a message. She’s a very busy woman.”
I clench my fist in frustration. “Okay, give it to me anyway. Or can you think of some way I might get in touch with Holly?”
“Why? What’s going on?”
A jeep emerges from the woods, one of the white security vehicles. A man on foot follows soon after.
“Nothing much,” I say, my heart racing. “She left something down at the guest house, and I think she needs it. What’s Holly’s number?”
I put her on speaker. Monique tells me the number, and I key it into my phone.
“Oh, Ms. Walsh? You might want to text her first. You’ll freak her out if you just call.”
“Of course,” I say, but I’m glad of the reminder.
I open up my messenger.
Holly? It’s Maya. Can I give you a quick call?
I hit send and back around the edge of the lighthouse. The guard on foot has jumped in the jeep, which bounces down the muddy road toward me.
I watch my messages. After an eternity, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Sure.
I call. Holly picks up and says, “Headquarters of the No-Rain Society.” Which is better than a greeting or an apology or an explanation for how we left things.
“Reporting bright and sunny conditions here,” I tell her. The jeep is halfway to the lighthouse. There’s no place for me to hide. “Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “There’s totally nothing to do here. I was going to get the cable going, but the customer service people won’t talk to me.”
“Yeah, they suck,” Holly says. “Gimme a minute. I’ll call and have it up and running in no time. That book was boring, right?”
“No, that’s okay,” I say, a bit desperately. “I don’t mind calling them. I was just hoping maybe you knew your dad’s security PIN. That’s what they’re asking for. But if not, no big deal. I can get back into that book.”
I duck my head back, thinking one of the guards in the jeep saw me. I hear the engine rev. Only my pulse is racing faster.
“Oh, no worries,” Holly says. “That’s easy. It’s my birthday.”
“Of course,” I say. I hurry around the lighthouse and down the steps toward the door. Holly says something, and then she’s cut off. I look at my phone. No bars. I hurry back up, wave the phone at the fickle gods of cellular communication, and get a single bar. I start to call back, can hear the guards talking on the other side of the lighthouse, one saying to go inside, the other saying he’ll check the back. As soon as I call Holly, they’ll hear me. When—bless her—my phone vibrates with a text.
Dropped you. 09-22-28. l8r
Back down the steps, I figure I’ve got one chance. I punch in the code, expecting more damn red lights.
But there’s a clunk, a green light, and I push my way inside.
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