Page 84 of Whispers from the Lighthouse
“To the lighthouse?”
“If you’re up for it. I thought maybe we could . . .” He trailed off, suddenly uncertain. “Never mind. It’s probably a bad idea.”
“No. I want to.” Vivienne understood what he wasn’t saying. They’d nearly died there. They’d forged their connection there. They needed to reclaim it as something other than a trauma site.
Brooks parked in the small lot. The lighthouse grounds looked different in afternoon sun—peaceful, even welcoming. The keeper’s cottage was boarded up pending historical society restoration, but the tower itself stood proud against the sky.
They walked the path together, neither speaking. The cliff where Vivienne had found Melissa’s button. The entrance to the basement where the tunnels began. The door to the tower itself, now locked but visible through the fence.
“The FBI cleared it last week,” Brooks said. “Sullivan has the keys if you ever want to go inside.”
“Maybe someday. When it doesn’t make my ribs ache to look at it.”
They stood at the fence, watching waves crash against the rocks below. The beacon would activate at dusk, its lightsweeping across the water in steady rhythm. A warning. A guide. Both at once.
“Lily’s at peace now,” Vivienne said quietly. “I can feel it. She’s not trapped here anymore.”
“Because of you.”
“Because of us. You trusted me when no one else would. Followed leads that made no sense. Let me guide you with visions and intuition instead of evidence.” She turned to face him. “That’s what solved the case. Not my abilities or your detective work. Both together.”
Brooks smiled. “Best partnership I’ve ever had.”
“Mine too,” Vivienne said. “I never thought I’d work with law enforcement. But this . . . this works.”
“It does.” He looked out at the ocean. “Ready to do it again?”
“On the next case? Absolutely.”
They stayed at the lighthouse until the sun began to set, talking about the future. Brooks’s permanent position. Vivienne’s expanding business. The possibility of consulting on more cases together. Professional plans for a not-quite-typical partnership.
As they walked back to the car, Vivienne felt Mathilde’s presence—not urgent or warning, just approving. Her great-great-grandmother had built protections into this lighthouse, had fought the Aldriches in her own time, had started a legacy that Vivienne was continuing.
But she was doing it differently. With a partner. With support. With purpose.
The beacon activated as they drove away, its light cutting through the gathering dusk. Vivienne watched it in the side mirror, feeling its steady rhythm like a heartbeat.
Some endings were really beginnings.
Some lighthouses guided you home.
And some ghosts were finally, peacefully, at rest.
