Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8TPP0BBZ7PZCVDZAP61F0R

The old lighthouse stood alone at the very edge of Harrow Bay, its single lantern slicing through cold November darkness. Detective Clara Marsh stepped out from her car just after midnight, the rain already soaking deeply through her wool coat. The emergency call had come in at eleven forty, a frantic voice reporting something terrible near the old keeper's cottage. She had not fully prepared herself for what waited just inside the lighthouse door, partly hidden beneath a dark blanket. The blanket had slipped, revealing a man who lay face down on the cold stone floor, one arm stretched out. His tailored dark evening suit and polished gold cufflinks told Marsh that this man had not expected to sleep here. There was absolutely no visible sign of blood, yet something about the cruel angle of his neck told Marsh everything. She crouched carefully down beside the body, pulling on gloves, and slowly studied the pale face turned toward the wall. She suddenly recognized him, even in death, even in that suffocating cold darkness, and felt her whole body go still. He was Victor Crane, a man that half the town truly despised and the other half quietly but deeply feared. Marsh stood up slowly, gazed at the rain hammering down against the single lighthouse window, and reached for her phone.