Chapter 13 - The Echoes of the Drowning Boy
The lighthouse stood like a skeletal finger pointing at the moon,
its white paint peeling away in jagged strips,
its windows boarded up like the eyes of a blind man.
The sound of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below was a constant,
throbbing roar,
a reminder of the power of the sea that had defined our lives.
I stood at the base of the tower,
the cold wind whipping my hair across my face,
clutching the empty digital drive Julian had given me as bait.
The black SUV pulled up minutes later,
its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin searchlights.
Victor stepped out,
followed by the man in the hoodie—Silas,
the lighthouse keeper,
the man who had lost his son to the storm.
Silas looked older than the hills,
his face a map of grief and rage,
his eyes fixed on me with a hatred that was palpable.
"Where is he?"
Victor demanded,
his voice echoing in the hollow space of the garden.
"Where is my brother?"
"He’s at the top,"
I said,
pointing to the flickering light in the lantern room.
"He wanted to see the water one last time before he gave you the codes."
Victor sneered,
adjusting his coat.
"Sentimental fool.
Silas,
stay here.
If anyone else shows up,
kill them."
Victor and I began the long,
arduous climb up the spiral stairs,
each step a groan of protest from the ancient wood.
The air grew colder the higher we went,
smelling of salt and decay.
When we finally reached the top,
Julian was there,
sitting in his chair,
looking out at the horizon where the dark sky met the darker water.
"Victor,"
Julian said,
not turning around.
"I wondered if you’d have the courage to face me here."
"Courage has nothing to do with it,
Julian,"
Victor said,
stepping into the light.
"This is about business.
The codes.
Now."
I stepped forward,
holding out the drive.
"Here,"
I said,
my voice steady despite the terror clawing at my throat.
Victor snatched it,
plugging it into a laptop he had carried with him.
"It’s encrypted,"
he hissed,
his eyes darting to Julian.
"What’s the password?"
Julian turned his chair,
the blue light of the laptop illuminating the scars on his face.
"The password is a name,
Victor.
A name you’ve spent twenty years trying to erase from your conscience."
Victor’s face paled,
his hands shaking as he typed.
"Don't play games with me."
"The name is Leo,"
Julian said,
his voice rising above the roar of the wind.
"The boy you told Silas I killed.
But you and I both know the truth,
don't we?
You were the one who pushed him,
Victor.
You were the one who wanted the inheritance early,
and you thought if you killed a town boy and blamed the orphan,
I’d be sent away forever."
The drama of the revelation was a thunderclap in the small room.
I looked at Victor,
the realization dawning on me that the secret was far deeper than I had ever imagined.
Victor wasn't just a greedy brother;
he was the architect of the tragedy that had destroyed our childhoods.
"You're lying!"
Victor shouted,
reaching for a gun in his jacket.
But before he could pull it,
the door to the lantern room burst open.
Silas stood there,
his face twisted in a mask of agony,
having overheard everything through the intercom Julian had left active on the stairs.
"You,"
Silas whispered,
his gaze fixed on Victor.
"It was you."
The silence that followed was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced.
The secret was out,
the truth was bare,
May you like
and the storm was finally,
finally coming home to roost.
