“Not yet.”
“Then open it.”
Dr. Morgan looked at Collins.
He nodded.
She carefully removed the back casing.
Inside was a tiny metal compartment, no larger than a fingernail.
It contained a micro-storage chip.
Victoria stared.
“That's it?”
Dr. Morgan nodded.
“Possibly.”
She placed the chip in a protective container.
Then she looked at the watch again.
“There's something else.”
Victoria frowned.
“What?”
Dr. Morgan pointed to the inside of the casing.
A second inscription had been engraved beneath the mechanism.
It was so small that it could only be seen under magnification.
MARGARET — 0417.
Victoria stared at it.
“That's my mother's name.”
Collins looked at her.
“Do you know what 0417 means?”
Victoria shook her head.
“No.”
Then she remembered something.
Her mother used to write the same four numbers on birthday cards.
0417.
Victoria had assumed it was a personal code.
A private joke between her parents.
She looked at Collins.
“My mother was born on April seventeenth.”
Collins nodded.
“Could be a password.”
Dr. Morgan carefully secured the chip.
“I'll take this to the laboratory.”
Victoria looked at the empty watch casing.
For twelve years, she had worn it without knowing it contained a secret.
Her father had given her the key.
But he had never told her what it opened.
Then her phone vibrated.
Another message.
THE WATCH IS NOT THE EVIDENCE. IT IS THE LOCATION.
Victoria showed Collins.
He read it twice.
“Same unknown number?”
“Yes.”
“Respond.”
Victoria typed:
WHO ARE YOU?
The answer arrived almost immediately.
SOMEONE WHO PROMISED YOUR FATHER I WOULD KEEP YOU SAFE.
Victoria's pulse quickened.
She typed again.
WHERE IS MY MOTHER?
The response took longer.
Then:
SHE IS CLOSER THAN YOU THINK.
Victoria looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Collins shook his head.
“We need to find the sender.”
Another message appeared.
LOOK AT THE PHOTOGRAPH IN YOUR WALLET.
Victoria froze.
She reached into the inside pocket of her uniform.
There was a small photograph folded behind her identification card.
It showed her parents standing together outside a house.
Her mother wore a cream-colored coat.
Her father wore his Navy dress uniform.
Victoria was about ten years old in the picture.
She looked at the photograph.
Then she turned it over.
A handwritten note was on the back.
She had never noticed it before.
THE PLACE WHERE THE LIGHTHOUSE NEVER SHINES.
Victoria stared.
Collins looked over her shoulder.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
“Did your father write it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what it means?”
Victoria shook her head.
But something was beginning to come back.
A summer vacation.
A small coastal town.
A lighthouse.
Her father telling her that the safest place was sometimes the place nobody thought to look.
She whispered:
“Blackwater Point.”
Collins looked at her.
“What?”
“It's an old naval property near the coast. My father used to take me there when I was a child.”
“Why?”
“He said the lighthouse was broken.”
“Was it?”
Victoria nodded.
“It had been decommissioned years earlier.”
Collins immediately called his team.
“Get me a location on Blackwater Point. I want a federal unit ready.”
Victoria grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
He turned.
“What?”
“If my father left that message, there's a reason he didn't want anyone going there without understanding it.”
Collins nodded.
“Then tell me what we're looking for.”
Victoria looked down at the photograph.
“The place where the lighthouse never shines.”
She paused.
“There's an old building beneath it.”
“What kind of building?”
“A communications station.”
Collins looked at her.
“Still operational?”
“I don't know.”
Victoria's phone vibrated again.