The lighthouse keeper lay dead. Blood pooled beneath his head. Waves crashed against jagged rocks. Sarah Quinn approached the body. Her flashlight beam trembled slightly. "Nobody heard any strange sounds?" she asked the gathered crowd. Three witnesses shook their heads. The storm had been violent. Windows rattled throughout the night. The victim's name was Morrison. He'd worked here twenty years. Everyone claimed to like him. Yet someone had killed him. The murder weapon seemed obvious. A brass telescope lay nearby. Dark stains covered its surface. Sarah photographed the gruesome scene. This case would challenge her. The island had no exits. The killer remained among them.