MSarA

Investigative journalist Ellie Harper returns to her fog-shrouded hometown of Haven’s Cove after her mother’s death, only to find the past clawing its way back: skeletal remains wash ashore, linked to her aunt’s unsolved 1985 disappearance. As Ellie digs into the cold case, she uncovers a secret society, The Mariner’s Circle, and a bloodstained heirloom that implicates the town’s most powerful figures—including her own family. But the killer, the Ferryman, is still active, taunting Ellie with riddles and corpses. Torn between exposing the truth and protecting those she loves, Ellie races against the rising tide to unravel a conspiracy rooted in betrayal, addiction, and ghosts of WWII. When the Ferryman’s identity shatters everything she knows, Ellie must decide whether justice is worth drowning for.

Shadows in the Tide

The storm growled like an angry beast as we descended the lighthouse path. Rain needled our faces, and the wind screamed through the cliffs. My fingers clutched Evelyn's letter inside my jacket, the paper crinkling like dry bones.

"Shipwreck's exposed at low tide," Jesse shouted over the gale. He flashed his phone—3 a.m. glowed in the dark. "Moon's up. Now's our shot."

Mac squinted at the thrashing sea below. "Tide won't wait. Move fast."

We scrambled down the cliffside, boots skidding on wet rocks. The old shipwreck jutted from the waves like a broken ribcage. Moonlight painted the beach silver, and the reek of rotting seaweed stung my nose. Somewhere, a foghorn moaned.

Jesse unzipped his backpack, handing out flashlights. "Stick together. Ferryman's still out there."

The wreck loomed ahead, half-buried in sand. Its splintered hull creaked, a sound that set my teeth on edge. Mac kicked aside a barnacled plank, revealing a gaping hole. "In here," he said, voice tight.

Inside, the air tasted like rust and salt. My beam lit up rotted crates, a cracked mirror, and—

"There." Jesse crouched, brushing sand off a small iron chest. The lid screeched open. Nestled inside was a ruby necklace, its gem dark as dried blood.

"The real one," I breathed. The fake from the cannery had been glass, but this… this pulsed, like it held a heartbeat.

Water? No—too thick. I swung my light upward.

Red droplets fell from the ceiling, splattering the chest.

We bolted, but the Ferryman dropped from the shadows, blocking our exit. His oilskin coat dripped, and his face—oh God—was a blurred nightmare under a wide-brimmed hat. He lunged, a rusted anchor hook gleaming in his hand.

Jesse shoved me sideways. "Go left!"

We split, scrambling through the wreck's guts. The Ferryman's breath rasped behind me, closer, closer—

My boot caught on a cable. I fell hard, the ruby skittering into the dark. The Ferryman loomed over me, hook raised—

Jesse smashed a plank over his head. The Ferryman staggered, snarling, then melted into the shadows.

"Ellie!" Jesse hauled me up. "You okay?"

I nodded, trembling. Mac scooped up the ruby, shoved it into my hands. "Don't lose it again," he growled, but his eyes were scared.

We burst onto the beach. The tide was rising fast, waves clawing at our ankles. Above the cliffs, a lone figure stood in the lighthouse window—watching.

I didn't answer. My mind spun with Evelyn's words: Trust no one.

Back at the motel, we barricaded the door. The ruby glared at us from the table. Jesse flicked the pocket watch Mayor Caldwell gave me—tick, tick, tick. "Why'd he want you to have this?"

I popped it open. Inside, a faded photo: Clara and Evelyn, young and laughing, arms linked. Written on the back: Twins drown together.

My stomach lurched. "He's mocking us. The Mayor—he knew about Evelyn all along."

Mac paled. "We need to check on Lila. Now."

Sirens wailed outside. Red lights slashed through the blinds. Sheriff Pike's voice boomed: "Ellie Harper! Open up!"

Jesse peeked through the curtain. "Cops. And… is that Lila's scarf in the Sheriff's hand?"

It was. And it was soaked in blood.

Chapter 13