Chapter 7 – THE LIGHTHOUSE STORM
The sound of the rifle tore through the warehouse.
Dominic tackled me and Sam to the concrete floor just as a line of bullets shredded the wooden crates behind us. Wood splinters rained down like shrapnel.
“Cover fire!” Dominic yelled to his men.
Michael and the others returned fire, forcing Vincent to duck behind a steel forklift.
“You’re pathetic, Vinnie!” Dominic shouted over the gunfire. “You’re really going to kill your own brother over a business you don’t even know how to run?”
“I’ll learn!” Vincent screamed back, blindly firing around the edge of the machinery. “Once you and the bastard kid are gone, the commission will have no choice but to back me!”
Dominic checked his weapon. He had half a magazine left. He looked at me, his eyes fierce and protective. “Emily. Take Sam. Go back up the stairs and into the tunnels. Run to the SUV and lock the doors.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, my hands shaking.
“You have to go find Toby,” Dominic said, pressing his hand against my cheek for a fleeting, desperate second. “He needs his aunt. Go.”
I grabbed Sam’s hand. We crawled behind the metal staircase, shielded from the bullets. I looked back one last time. Dominic gave me a nod, then stood up, firing a relentless barrage of bullets to keep Vincent pinned down.
Sam and I scrambled up the stairs and into the dark tunnels. We ran through the damp, pitch-black corridors until my lungs burned. We finally reached the alleyway and piled into the locked SUV.
I grabbed the spare phone from the glove compartment and dialed the police, reporting the warehouse shooting anonymously. Then, I put the car in drive.
“Buckle up, Sam,” I said, slamming my foot on the gas. “We’re going to Cape May.”
The drive took two agonizing hours through the torrential storm. The rain lashed against the windshield, making the dark coastal roads nearly impossible to see.
When we finally pulled up to the rocky cliffside of the Cape May lighthouse, the wind was howling. The old brick tower stood dark and imposing against the crashing waves.
I grabbed a flashlight from the trunk and told Sam to lock the doors and stay hidden.
I fought my way up the winding stone path. The front door of the lighthouse was chained shut, but I knew the secret. When Toby and I were kids, we found a loose grate covering a basement window.
I knelt in the mud and pulled the iron grate free. I squeezed through the narrow window, dropping into the dusty, abandoned basement.
“Toby?” I called out, my voice trembling.
Nothing but the sound of the wind howling outside.
I swept my flashlight across the room. Old wooden crates, broken chairs, dust everywhere.
Then, the beam of light hit something bright yellow in the corner.
A raincoat.
I ran over. Curled up into a tight ball behind a stack of crates, shivering violently, was my brother. He was clutching a small backpack to his chest, his thick glasses fogged with tears.
“Toby!” I sobbed, falling to my knees and pulling him into my arms.
He clung to me, burying his face in my shoulder. “Emily! You found me. I was so scared.”
“I know, baby, I know. You’re safe now.”
I hugged him so tight I thought I might break him. He was freezing. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around him.
“We have to go,” I said, helping him to his feet. “There are people looking for you.”
“The lady with the pin?” he asked, wiping his nose.
“She won’t hurt you anymore. But we need to leave.”
We climbed out of the basement window into the freezing rain. I held his hand tightly as we started down the treacherous stone path toward the car.
But halfway down, a pair of headlights suddenly blinded us.
A black sedan blocked the exit.
The door opened, and a man stepped out into the pouring rain. He held a gun, but his arm was hanging limply at his side, dripping blood.
It was Vincent.
He had escaped the warehouse.
“Well, well,” Vincent wheezed, aiming the gun at Toby. “Looks like I found the jackpot.”
Before I could move, another set of headlights roared up the driveway, smashing violently into the back of Vincent’s car.
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