The Precipice (5 page)

“Certainly.” Amelia turned to Elizabeth and took her hands in hers. “Lizzi, I’m sorry. Why don’t we have dinner this evening on the veranda? Anthony is doing a clambake on the beach so it should be rather quiet there. We can continue our conversation then.”

“Sure, Nana. You go ahead,” trying desperately to hide her disappointment. She watched the trio head back up the path toward the inn, wondering why Kurt was tagging along.

It was such a beautiful day, Elizabeth decided to continue her walk to the lighthouse. She only wished she had brought along some drawing supplies. She really needed to get started getting some design ideas down on paper. Her conversation with Vera was weighing heavy on her mind.

____________

The path Elizabeth had been following brought her down the steep hill, out of the woods, to a small clearing. Just off the end of the path to the right was a small shed that had been used to store kerosene, back in the days when a full-time lighthouse keeper tended to the light before it was automated. Kerosene was deliberately stored far enough away from the lighthouse so that a fire in the shed wouldn’t take the lighthouse with it. In those days, lighthouses were essential to ships passing near the shore. They were not equipped with sophisticated navigational equipment like they have in present day to warn of impending danger.

Directly in front of her was the lighthouse at the end of a breakwater that jutted two hundred yards out into the water. It stood majestically before her like an old friend. A fortress of sorts. A form of refuge to a young girl escaping a bit of her childhood. A fortress to a young woman who needed some time to herself to get her head on straight. The tower was not open to the public, but she knew where the key was kept and proceeded to push open the door to the shed. The inside of the little shed was quite dark but her eyes were adjusting quickly. She could just make out some tools hanging on the walls, boxes of who knows what stacked up against the far wall. It wasn’t a large space by any stretch of the imagination, approximately fifteen feet by twenty feet. After groping in the semi-darkness for a few seconds, Elizabeth’s hand touched the familiar key hanging from the nail to the left of the door. It was still kept where it had been for years. The door to the lighthouse was kept locked at all times. Guests were given tours upon request by a member of the staff. It was a favorite spot for painters and photographers as well.

She lifted the key off the nail hook and stepped back out into the bright sunshine. Her eyes took a moment to readjust to the light. She pulled the shed door closed and headed out to the breakwater toward the lighthouse. It was a treacherous walk across large boulders with blunt edges lying at precarious angles. She would have to keep her eyes focused on her feet and where she was placing them. Many times as a teenager, she was in a hurry to get out to the lighthouse and caught a foot between two rocks, falling in her haste to escape the inn, scraping knees and hands in the process. She had the scars to prove it.

Elizabeth headed out across the rocks, starting slowly, but picking up the pace after she got rhythm in her step. It was like hopscotch with consequences. One wrong move and she would be suffering a scrape on her knee or a twisted ankle. She chose her steps carefully, looking up briefly from time to time to check her progress. The closer she got, the tinglier her body became. After a few minutes of total concentration and careful placement of her feet, she found herself at the door of the lighthouse. She inserted the key into the lock of the huge wooden door and turned. There was an audible click and she pulled with all her might to open the door. The bright sunshine penetrated the entryway as she opened the door slowly. There was a cold, musty, but familiar smell that hit her in the face upon entering. Again, her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the tower. She turned and pulled the door closed. It made a familiar, loud thud. She locked it from the inside and tucked the key securely inside the pocket of her capris. She’d rather not have any company; she wanted to enjoy the solitude of the lighthouse—just like years ago when her grandmother would come looking for her for dinner. At first, the lighthouse was the last place she looked. Maybe it was because of the rocky hike to get out there. Eventually, Amelia caught on and the lighthouse became the first place she looked for her granddaughter. Elizabeth headed toward the narrow wooden steps that spiraled to the top of the light. Her footsteps echoed in the base of the tower.

Elizabeth was a little winded when she reached the top of the stairs, but it felt good to be back at the light. She could see the world from way up there. She pushed open the door and stepped out onto the outside balcony, a narrow walkway with a railing around the top of the light, sixty feet above the rocks below. The sheer height of the balcony from the rocks could make almost anyone feel lightheaded. Elizabeth immediately felt right at home. She headed around to the side facing the open ocean, passing an apparent work area complete with yellow tape across a section of the missing railing. She made a mental note to avoid that section on the way back. Reaching the far side of the light, she backed up against the outer wall, bent her knees, and eased herself down into a seated position with her legs crossed. She took a deep breath. With everything that was going on at the inn, she had some things to think about and this was a great place to do it.

Her grandmother needed her help. She was about to throw in the towel and give up the inn. She is focusing more energy and time on locating the missing teen than getting the attorney big wig off her back. It’s time to figure out what’s going on. Chief Austin doesn’t have a lot of experience solving a missing person’s case, much less a murder...murder at Pennington Point Inn? Could it be possible? It was important to consider and evaluate each piece of evidence objectively.

Her gut was telling her that the Renard/Girard situation may not really be resolved. She needed to follow through on that. She couldn’t just take her grandmother’s word who took Renard’s word. Also, she wondered what the deal was with Mitchell. Is he legitimate? Is he really a tennis pro? One way to find out. She could take a lesson...What about the previous pro? What was his name? Aaron something or other. What happened to him? Who are the parents whose daughter is missing? Who is the daughter? Who are the other guests? Who is the attorney that is harassing her grandmother? These questions needed answers.

Elizabeth was feeling overwhelmed. She gazed out to sea and enjoyed the breeze off the water caressing her face. She was completely secluded on the far side of the light in her own little refuge. She stretched out her legs toward the water with her back still against the outer wall. It was early afternoon so the sun was still high in the sky, but on its way back down to the horizon. The warmth felt good to her. She soaked it up and started to drift off to sleep.

Chapter 5

T
he loud thud of the lighthouse door startled Elizabeth. Her eyes flew open. At first it brought her back in time and she thought it was her grandmother. Then she gasped, realizing she had locked the door on the way in and she had the key! Her eyes grew wide. She jumped to her feet and tiptoed to the balcony doorway and quietly stepped to the top of the stairwell inside the lighthouse. She held her breath and listened. She couldn’t see anything in the dark and there were no audible footsteps. Was someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her? Who had another key? Did someone break in
?
Her mind was racing. She wanted to hear a sound, any sound.
What am I going to do?
There was nowhere for her to go. She was trapped. Trapped on a walkway that was high above the rocks below and entirely unsafe with the railing under repair. She wondered what had she been thinking when she decided to ascend the stairs.

She waited and listened. Still nothing. She reached for her pants pocket. No cell phone!
So much for calling a knight in shining armor.
She was on her own...The silence was deafening. She was nearly paralyzed with fear. Did she just imagine the door slamming? Had she been dreaming?
It was taking everything she had to convince herself to head down the lighthouse stairs but she knew she had work to do, for her grandmother and her boss.

She cursed under her breath and started to slowly make her way down the dozens of steps on the inside of the lighthouse, stopping and listening periodically. There seemed to be many more steps than there were when she had headed up earlier. The occasional small windows that punctuated the sides of the lighthouse let in enough sunshine to negotiate the stairs safely but she could not see if there was anyone waiting for her at the bottom. It was quite dark there, darker than she imagined. As she reached the last step the shadows overwhelmed her. She jammed her right hand down into the pocket of her pants, groping for the key to the lighthouse door and her freedom. Quickly retrieving it, she took a few more steps toward the exit in the shadows, guessing where the door was, and fumbled with both hands to grasp the key and guide it into the lock. She squinted in the dim light to help her aim. In her haste, the key kept missing its mark. She sensed someone lurking behind her. She tried the key again. Suddenly she felt a large hand on her right shoulder. Letting out a shriek, she whirled around, slamming her back against the door, eyes wide in fright. The sound of the key hitting the floor took a second to sink in.

“Need help with the key, miss?” It was a low, almost sinister male voice.

Suddenly, there was a click. Elizabeth was staring into the eyes of Renard, his face illuminated by his flashlight. He was a large man. Not really that tall, but what he didn’t have in height, he made up for in bulk. She didn’t remember him looking so threatening before. She tried to conceal the fact that he had startled her. The sound of her heart racing was loud in her ears. Could he hear it? Was she breathing?
Keep breathing!
Her body had an annoying habit of shutting down the breathing function in extreme situations or even during periods of intense focus. But she couldn’t afford to pass out right now.

Renard bent down to retrieve the key, never taking his eyes from hers. Elizabeth froze, not knowing what he was going to do. He stood up with the key resting in the palm of his hand. She started to reach for it and he quickly closed his fingers into a fist, still looking deeply into her eyes. She pulled her hand back slowly, returning his gaze.
What was he up to?
She was completely trapped. She wondered why she hadn’t pulled the key out of her pocket sooner, as she was descending the stairs. Of course, taking her eyes off of where she was placing her feet on the narrow stairs could have caused her to misstep and go tumbling—certainly not a better scenario…
What is this guy going to do?
She searched his eyes looking for a clue.

Elizabeth watched in amazement as he started tossing the key into the air, just a few inches at first, and then higher and higher until it reached a height of twelve to eighteen inches. Her nostrils flared as she caught a whiff of his sweaty body odor mixed with the mustiness of the old building
.
Should she try to grab the key in mid-air? Even if she successfully snagged it, she still would have to get it into the lock, turn it, push the door, and get out. He didn’t look like he would allow her to do that. Maybe she should try reasoning with him.

Before she could speak, he opened his mouth and barked, “What were you doing here?” His eyes narrowed, demanding an answer.

She gasped quietly, taken aback by his question. Who was he to question her about why she was there? She could ask him the same thing. She decided to just play along and not get him riled up. He literally held the key to her release from the lighthouse. And no one really knew she was there. Could this guy be connected to the disappearance of the girl?

“Well?” He was getting impatient. She needed to choose her words carefully.

“Oh…I used to come here all the time as a kid. My grandmother, Amelia, would come find me here when it was time for dinner,” she desperately threw that out as thinly veiled justification.

He furrowed his brow slightly, looking a bit puzzled. Just as quickly, though, his face brightened, acknowledging his understanding. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth. It’s you.” His voice softened slightly. His words were slow and deliberate. “I didn’t realize you were back,” stopping short of an apology for scaring her half to death. “I was just concerned about just anyone, ya know, one of the guests, finding their way up here and getting hurt, what with the railing being repaired and all.”

“Well that’s certainly understandable…and very responsible of you,” she added, trying to give him a verbal pat on the back. Lord knows she wouldn’t want to touch him.
Please let me out of here.
She felt panic starting to rise inside of her and she was doing everything in her power to repress it. “Thank you for doing that. I’m sure my grandmother would be very pleased to hear that. I should go and catch up with her now…thanks for your help.” Did she dare ask a question?
“But if the door is kept locked, how would any of the guests be able to get in?”

He carefully considered her question before answering. “Because one of the keys came up missing recently.” He let that hang in the air for a while.

Great! It could be in just about anyone’s hands. This was not good.
She needed to get out of there.
“Well, I should really be going.” She looked at him expectantly and stepped to the side so he could open the door for her.

“Yes. Well, let me help you with the door. It can be a bit stubborn, especially after we had it re-keyed not too long ago. Gives me a bit of trouble now and again, too.” He skillfully slipped the metal key into the lock in the door, turned it, put his hand on the handle, but stopped short of actually opening the door. He paused. Elizabeth held her breath.
Please let me out.
He turned and met her eyes. “You need to be careful that you don’t get hurt while you’re here, Miss Elizabeth. I’m sure your grandmother would not like anything to happen to you.” He turned back toward the door, leaving Elizabeth to wonder what that meant. She didn’t have long to ponder. He gave the door a solid push, allowing the bright sunshine to flood the small, dark room.

Before he had time to stop her, Elizabeth pushed past him, brushing against his body, into the warmth of the day and the freedom of being on the outside of the lighthouse. She took a deep breath. The brisk sea air never smelled so good. Then she considered the key that was still in his possession. She turned back toward the door and boldly put her hand out for the key. Renard was standing, straddling the doorway with the door pulled close to him, as if trying to prevent her from seeing what was inside. It made her curious what she wasn’t able to see in the dim light but her desire to flee was much stronger than her curiosity at the moment. She would have to return another time to find out. “I should return the key to the shed,” she ventured.

He didn’t move. It was as if his feet were cemented in place like a sentry at his post. He held his gaze into her eyes and calmly answered, “I’ll take care of it when I head back up the hill.”

Realizing she really had no choice, she turned back toward the rocky breakwater and headed away from the light. She pushed an outstretched arm into the air and offered, “Okay, thanks. See you later.” She hoped that sounded as casual and nonchalant as she needed it to be. She then scampered deftly across the rocks, not taking the time to look back.

____________

Elizabeth reached the clearing in front of the inn, after racing up the hill and through the woods from the lighthouse, a little winded again and still trying to shake off her encounter with Renard. She made a mental note to get to the gym more often. Arriving with a sense of determination to help her grandmother get to the bottom of whatever was going on, she needed to find Chief Austin to find out as much as she could. She wasn’t sure what just transpired at the lighthouse and was feeling very uncomfortable about it.
What is Renard’s deal, anyway?
Elizabeth also had a nagging feeling about those tunnels. She shuddered at the thought, but her gut was telling her she should take a look just to be sure there was nothing amiss below. First, she would find the chief and start with him.

Just as she reached the front door to the inn, she had to step back because Kurt pushed the screen door from the inside. She was face to face with him again, a little too close for her comfort. She stepped backwards, bumping into one of the bikes parked near the porch railing. Elizabeth whirled around just in time to watch it fall over, knocking over the bike next to it. She cringed. Thankfully it was just the first two and not the entire fleet lined up on the porch waiting for guests to take them for a ride. Kurt rushed to her aid to right the bikes. “Here, let me give you a hand with these.”

Elizabeth felt her face turning red in embarrassment.
Way to make an entrance!
“Thanks…not one of my more coordinated moments,” trying to make light of the moment. She took a double take at the entire offering of bikes, noting that there were a couple more available than she remembered seeing last night. Of course, it had been late and it is possible she just didn’t notice all of them.

“So, how about a little tennis?” he offered.

“Oh, I don’t know…I didn’t bring my racquet,” she blurted out, as if that was going to make a difference.

“Not a problem. I’ve got several demos that the sales reps have been pressing me to try. Besides, I actually just had a cancellation so I’m free for the next hour.”

“Well, I don’t know about a lesson…” She was trying hard not to blush.

“It doesn’t have to be a lesson. We could just hit the ball around a bit.”

Elizabeth recognized this as an opportunity to get to know him a little better and, perhaps, find out what he knew. She wondered what she was afraid of.

“C’mon. What are you afraid of?”

She tried not to look startled at his question. “Alright. Give me a minute to get changed.” The chief would have to wait. So would the tunnels.