Page 423 of Hidden Depths

“That’s what Ross has spent almost thirty years trying to discover.”

The lighthouse stood above the cliffs like a broken bone against the sky.

Its white paint had peeled away.

Half the lantern-room windows were shattered.

No beam swept across the water.

The light had been dead for years.

But as our truck rounded the final curve, a single flash came from the top.

Then darkness.

A second flash followed.

Ben slowed the truck.

“What was that?”

I pushed the tarp aside.

“Do it again.”

Ward pulled me back down.

“Stay covered.”

“That was Calle.”

“How do you know?”

“She always uses a flash when she wants someone to look in a particular direction.”

Another flash appeared.

Three quick bursts.

Then one.

Then two.

Ben stopped breathing.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“Three men. First floor. Two upstairs.”

“Where is Calle?”

“She didn’t say.”

Ben stared toward the lighthouse.

His face had become frighteningly calm.

“She’s in the lantern room.”