Trouble and Treasure (#1, Trouble and Treasure Series) (18 page)

As we neared the lighthouse, I wanted to
turn back towards town. As far as I could tell, no one had followed
us and no one should know where we were. It meant that I could book
us into a hotel for the night and we should be fine. Amanda could
get her shower, get her meal, and get a soft bed for the night. And
I could jolly well get a beer.

She picked up the closer we got to the
lighthouse, her shoulders angling towards the window, her cheeks
pressed against it as she tried to get the best view of the
building.

I’d seen my fair share of lighthouses over
the years, not because I was an aficionado or anything, but because
I’d been to many places and plenty of coasts. It was always popular
to bury your treasure on the coast. Probably because it was the
first point of contact with land after lengthy sea voyages, and
also the point at which sunken treasure might wash ashore after a
storm.

The lighthouse before us was built into the
rock behind it. The first two thirds of the tower looking as if it
almost grew organically from the cliff face itself; being made from
the same light-colored stone. In familiar style, reinforced windows
appeared along the length of the tower, spiraling around so they
could match the internal staircase that spiraled around inside,
leading to the powerful lamps above.

Though the clouds were gathering faster and
faster, there was still enough light that the lighthouse cast a
shadow, and I had to admit my eyes were drawn to it with keen
interest. Though I honestly didn’t think that any of this would
work, and that this wasn’t the real solution to the clue, I
couldn't deny the tingle of exhilaration that jumped across the
back of my arms and down my back. Dammit if I wasn't a treasure
hunter, and dammit if I didn't love my job.

These days most lighthouses were automated,
and I was thankful not to see a car as I pulled up on the bare
gravel parking area on the cliff above the lighthouse. There was a
serious rail that ran around the edge of the cliff, splitting only
at one point as it led onto stairs that descended down the side of
the cliff and onto the wide stone ledge that led around the bottom
of the lighthouse, a rusted green, copper colored door visible at
the base of the building below. The stairs that led down the side
of the cliff looked sturdy; massive metal bolts securing them to
the rock.

I turned off the engine, this time pulling
the handbrake on; while I had to admit that we might require a
quick getaway, I didn’t want to see my car roll off the side of a
cliff and into the sea.

I got out of the car, face turning to the
sky above, those clouds racing ever quicker.

Amanda got out too, and I watched her wince,
pain obvious as she put weight on her feet.

I turned, shook my head, and motioned with
my hand back to the car. “You can stay in the car.”

“
I know I can stay in the car,” she said as
she straightened her back, “Just as I know I can get out of the car
and join you in trying to solve this clue.”

I didn't bother repeating myself; it seemed
as though she had made her mind up. Though she winced with every
step she took on the hard and rough stone of the parking area, I
turned away. I considered taking off my own shoes and offering them
to her, but I could plainly see that I was a few sizes larger, and
I didn’t want her to trip while she was walking down the stairs and
fall into the raging sea below.

Then I remembered something. Damn, I had a
pair of high heels in my boot, and no, they were not mine. Let's
just say they were left over from a one night stand.

I rushed to the boot, searching around my
junk until I found them. I had intended to drop them off at the
owner's office – a fiery red head who had been ridiculously
good-looking. With one thing and another, mostly running into
Amanda Stanton and trying to secure the Stargazers before every
criminal in the world managed to beat me to them, I hadn’t managed
to drop the heels off. When I produced them triumphantly from my
boot, you should have seen the look on Amanda's face. Her chin
dimpled with amusement as she took a quick look at the heels then
down at my feet.

“
They aren't mine.” I said, voice too
forceful. “They are from a one night stand,” I
clarified.

The look on her face didn't improve. She
crinkled her nose in disgust.

“
Look, if you want to come along, you're
going to need some shoes, and this is all I've got.” I dangled them
in one hand.

She didn’t look pleased, and she still
looked insulted from the one-night-stand comment, if insulted was
the right word. But she limped over and took them from me, turning
them over in her hands.

“
Do they pass?” I said, voice
sarcastic.

“
They will do, not too high that I’ll break
my neck going down the stairs.” She checked the thick and
not-too-high heel with her hands, trying to pull it apart as if she
was testing the strength. She shrugged, put one hand on the car to
support herself, and wriggled into them.

I tried not to watch, though she was
showing an appreciable amount of leg from the slit in her skirt;
despite my nature, it didn't seem right. So I turned, played with
my jaw, and took the opportunity to survey the road. It was a
one-way road that terminated at the small area I'd parked in. The
only way out was along the way I’d come in. It meant it was
fantastic to see oncoming traffic, and bad if we’d to get away,
because if someone was blocking the road further up and was waiting
for us, there was no way past. Not for the first time, I got the
distinct feeling that the best thing to do was to get the hell out
of here and find a hotel to stay in for the night.

Something didn't feel right. Maybe it was
the fact this clue of Amanda’s was shaky, or maybe it was more. I’d
been in this business long enough to realize you had to trust your
gut, even though your gut didn’t speak in easy-to-understand, full
sentences. Speaking of guts, Amanda's stomach took the opportunity
to rumble, and she clutched a hand to it, looking embarrassed.

She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast,
and while Elizabeth's breakfasts were massive, that had been a long
time ago. She wouldn’t have drunk anything either. She kept
swallowing uncomfortably, even patting a hand to her throat.

“
Let's get it over with as quick as we
can,” I mumbled.

She walked away from the car, and though
she was slow, and had an obvious limp, she managed to stay upright
and stable. Rather than pay attention to her injuries, she took the
opportunity to stare across at the lighthouse. Playing with her
lips, she walked closer to the rails, latching her hands onto them
as she leaned forward and tried to track the path of the
shadow.

“
Do you think the lighthouse is open?” she
asked.

No, I didn't. You didn’t leave a lighthouse
unlocked, unless you had a big butch lighthouse operator who lived
there. The thing about tall abandoned buildings was that every kid
in the local district would find some way to vandalize them.

Amanda, one hand on the railing, moved the
other around, her fingers drawing a circle in the air. It was
obvious she was trying to track where the probable shadow would
move and where the light from the flood lamps could cross
it.

I stared at a section of the cliff face
below us, right near the railing. The railings, though sturdy,
looked old. Even if they’d been replaced once or twice since the
lighthouse itself had been built, the section of cliff they were
dug into looked as if it hadn’t changed.

I walked over to the top of the steps,
teeth grating as something distinct caught my eye. With a quick
glance across to the lighthouse I realized that the thing catching
my eye happened to be in direct line of the lighthouse, both in
line with its shadow and with one of the windows its powerful lamps
shone through.

Without a word, I took to the stairs, feet
dancing out in front of me, metal grating ringing from the impact
of my steps.

Amanda asked what I was doing, even came to
follow me, but I was too focused to answer. I didn’t want to lose
sight of what I’d seen: that glint of metal near the stairs.

I stopped, dropping to my knees and latching
a hand onto the railing and pulling myself out from the steps,
until I was leaning as far from them as my arms could manage. To my
left, just in reach, was a metal trinket. It would have been
innocuous were it not for the fact it was lodged into the stone, a
crack having been formed in the rock by some fashion, and the metal
trinket being shoved tightly down it.

I leaned out as far as I could until my
fingers brushed against it.

Amanda stopped several steps above me, both
hands on the railing, her body pressed into it, her face tense as
she watched me. She didn't ask what I was doing; apparently it was
obvious. When I managed to latch my fingers over the trinket and
began to pull, I recognized it was an impossible task to yank it
out of a stone. I gave it my best shot, grunting all the time, but
it didn't work.

I drew myself back in, swearing
forcefully.

Amanda stepped down, hovering close to
me.

I straightened up, cracked my shoulders, and
shook my head.

Amanda grabbed the railing and pressed
against it as far as she could, obviously trying to get a better
view of the trinket. “Do you think that's it?”

No, I honestly didn't. It had caught my eye,
yes, and technically it was in a place where the shadow met the
light. That didn’t mean it was our next clue. It was just a shiny
trinket that had managed to catch my attention, but god dammit if I
wasn't a treasure hunter; when I saw shiny, I tended to move heaven
and earth to get to it.

“
You know, I think I might be able to reach
it.” She stood up onto the step above, grabbing the railing with
both hands and leaning forward.

“
Hey, what are you doing?” I said, stepping
in.

She'd had a big day, and just like you
weren’t meant to drive heavy machinery when you were drowsy, you
sure as hell were not meant to lean over railings on a cliff when
you were dead fatigued.

“
Do something useful, and hold my arm,” she
said as she brought one leg up and tried to haul herself over the
railing.

“
No you don't,” I snapped, “Get back over
here.”

It was too late; she’
d already managed to climb over the
railing, still holding on with both hands, one foot on the edge of
a step, one wedged onto a tiny rock ledge.

“
Amanda,” I snapped, voice even angrier,
“Get back here.” I moved in to grab her, to secure an arm around
her and to latch my free hand onto the railing to ensure she
couldn’t fall. As I did she let go of the railing with one hand,
using the other to span the gap and grab hold of the trinket. It
was the most precarious of positions, and I had to say my heart
beat frantically seeing it.

“
Amanda.” I latched one hand onto the
railing. I put my other arm flat against her forearm as she held
the railing, securing it in place with perhaps the most determined
grip I’d ever mustered.

“
It will be fine,” she said, voice shaky as
she tried to yank at the trinket sunk into the rock.

“
No, it won't be fine. Now get the fuck
back here.” Keeping my arm were it was, I pressed into the railing
further, letting go of it with my other hand and leaning out to
grab hold of the back of her skirt.

She fidgeted but kept her stance, and kept
trying to yank the object free.

“
Amanda.”

T
here was a monumental clap of thunder from above,
accompanied by a massive flash and, you guessed it, the powerful
drive of rain.

Neither of us were expecting it, and though
Amanda only tensed, flinching a fraction at the surprising sound,
it was enough to see her footing slip.

I launched against the railing, grabbing her
arm and skirt as I tried to yank her backwards.

Though she tumbled down the rocks, her shoes
sliding and scampering wildly against the rough stone, I managed to
secure her in place, somehow wrapping my arms around her waist,
though I dangled half over the railing myself.

Her breath was sudden and shallow, her
diaphragm pressing up against my arm in puffs and spurts. Dammit if
I couldn't feel her heartbeat reverberate through my arm as it
pressed so closely to her chest.

She hadn't even screamed, though now she
started to whine, somewhat like one of those old klaxons from World
War II that warned people of air raids.

I pulled her back in, until I had her back
secured against the railing, but before I could try and pull her
back over, she crossed one of her arms over, grabbed the railing,
turned and faced me. She clambered over herself, despite the fact I
hardly wanted to let go of her. She somehow wriggled free, and
before I knew it, jumped back over the railing and stood beside me,
pressing her back into the metal, taking several massive
breaths.

I shook my head, it was literally the only
thing I could do.

She offered me an awkward, toothy grin.
“Thanks.”

I kept shaking my head. This girl was
crazy.

The rain began to drive down harder now. I
was already sopping wet, and I watched as rivulets ran fast down
Amanda's face, pooling off her chin and dribbling down her
neck.

She shivered, drawing her shoulders in and
shuddering, because hell it had gotten cold.

Blinking hard and trying to hide under my
eyebrows as I attempted to stare through the driving rain, I turned
back towards the object still embedded in the rock. That would be
when Amanda thrust a hand in front of my face, a small metal chain
dangling there. Brow clicking down, lips pulling apart, I grabbed
it from her, somewhat like an excited child grabbing a cookie from
the cookie jar.