LAST ASSAULT ON OAK ISLAND 39

Chapter 39

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Sunday morning began gray and hazy, but turned humid and too warm by noon. Carlos and Rudy received the news of Lauren and Maruso's tunnel discovery well the preceding night. Lauren marveled that, despite Carlos' numerous achievements in several professional fields, he always managed to react as if the latest was his favorite accomplishment.

After the short celebration, including half a bottle of scotch, which Rudy tempered liberally for himself, Carlos spent fifteen minutes on the telephone with Agnes Breach, the widow who headed the natural science department at the museum. She reprimanded him soundly for calling her so late after the news had broke, but listened intently to his story.

The rest of Sunday passed extraordinarily slowly. Carlos and Rudy exhausted every chess maneuver until the lightkeeper demanded a truce and adjourned to the sofa for a nap. Carlos amused himself watching a dressage competition on TV. With time to kill before Maruso was due to pick her up, Lauren dismissed herself to the lighthouse to clean the lenses. There was simply nothing else to do.

She passed the time shining the reflective prisms that early evening. She examined Rudy's awards on the walls, meticulously cleaning the coveted Brass Dust Pan award on the wall, smiling at a photo of Sebastian Maddock with a very young Rudy. She looked through the laminated album hanging below the pan award that detailed the beacon's long history, seeing new details she had missed on previous occasions.

She smiled at the sepia tinted photo of Grace Maddock, Rudy's mother, standing with a hoe at the small garden beside the cottage. The house was newer, and the tree outside by the garden much younger. She turned the page to see Rudy and his sister Madeline in a stiff, smiling pose.

The hum of the generator warming up snapped Lauren's attention from the old album. She groaned, looking at the sky turning stages of twilight. She had less than an hour before Maruso would arrive.

As she reached the bottom of the winding stairs, Miles stepped form the growing shadows.

She stifled a yelp. "Miles . . .  I'm sorry about your father. How is he now?"

The darkening room made him look oddly gaunt. His voice was flat. "He's a vegetable, Lauren. Or isn't that your real name?"

Miles had accused her many times before, but never with the conviction Lauren now perceived. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he said tightly. He walked towards her and she clearly saw the gun in his hand. She took a step back and felt the stair banister against her spine.

"What did you do to my dad?"

"He's not your dad!" Miles closed the short space between them and took her wrists in a quick movement. "Shut up or I'll shoot you here. Understand?"

She nodded.

They noiselessly went outside and around the back of the tower down the drive that led to the island's main road. Miles' pickup was parked out of sight at a tree line and he pushed her toward the driver's door.

"Get in."

"Miles, let's just—"

"Get in!"

Lauren obeyed. In the dim light she noticed the opposite door's lock was broken off. The window was down a few inches and the handcrank removed.