Chapter Three
It was almost ten o’clock by the time Linus pulled up to the Colonial Craftsman on Windemere Circle and hit the garage door opener. The remote kicked in, allowing him to enter just as the light popped on, illuminating the garage. Otherwise, the place sat in complete darkness. If he’d known he and Farley would be out this long, he’d have left the porch light on or at least one lamp inside.
As Linus cut the engine, he realized that bumping into Lake had offered an unexpected opportunity he couldn’t turn down. And why would he? His interest in her had begun the moment he saw her in the library reading that Anthony Doerr novel she’d brought from home. He remembered the book was All The Light We Cannot See. It stuck out in his mind because she’d offered to lend it to Izzy Delacourt, who always seemed to miss out on the one copy the library had on hand. To him, it showed her generosity, that she was willing to share her own copies of a book just so others could read the story.
Like tonight. She offered to share her own books on dog training.
Why had he wasted eighteen months sitting on the sidelines?
It wasn’t like him. He wasn’t shy with women. Far from it. Two years earlier, he’d even dated Cord’s tech assistant, Jessica St. John—which Lake apparently had already heard about. Their relationship lasted a short six weeks until things between them began to fall apart. Jess had complained about his long work hours. And she’d wanted him to ask her to move in, which he believed was way too soon for his liking. He wasn’t ready to cohabitate with anyone, least of all someone who complained about his job.
Major red flags had gone up.
Then there was his attraction to the librarian.
As he had explained to Lake earlier, their differences at the time had seemed insurmountable. His own insecurity had kept him from asking her out. He felt silly about that now.
Farley nudged him in the ribs as if to get him out of the truck. “I’m going. Let me enjoy this moment a little longer. Okay?”
But Farley whined, ready to jump out of the pickup and get inside.
“Fine. I’ll remember this when you want to stay in bed in the morning,” Linus told the dog as he finally gathered up his backpack and opened the truck door.
Farley escaped out of the pickup and stood waiting for Linus to unlock the door leading into the house.
Taking his time, Linus adjusted his backpack onto his shoulder, gathered up his groceries, and with his arms full, hauled the sacks inside past the laundry room. He tried to flick on the hall light with his elbow, so he wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark but couldn’t manage it and had to walk the rest of the way down the hallway until he reached the kitchen.
With one free finger, he flipped on the light switch before dumping the bags onto the counter. He set each item out before off-loading them into the cabinet or refrigerator, which he decided needed some straightening up. He did his best to tidy the shelves, rearranging things to make items easier to reach. But his decluttering and energy didn’t last long. After such a long day, he felt exhaustion overtaking him. Soon, he grabbed his cell phone out of his backpack, cut the lights off, and headed into his bedroom with Farley trailing after him.
The dog flopped into his bed in the corner while Linus plugged in his phone. Before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth, though, he reached for the TV remote on the nightstand and punched in the station for the local news out of Santa Cruz. He made fast work of brushing his teeth before turning down the covers and crawling into bed.
When the second story of the day came on, the reporter mentioned bones had been found south of Pelican Pointe and were thought to be connected to a missing persons case from six months earlier.
Linus turned up the volume and listened to the reporter reveal how a paramedic had discovered the bones while responding to a routine accident at the bridge. There was no mistake that the news guy was standing in the same spot where Linus had found the bones hours earlier. He stared at the screen watching in the background as a team of forensic technicians scoured the surrounding area underneath the bridge for more remains.
He sat up straighter when he noticed his phone lighting up. There was a text message from Lake telling him to watch the news. Another message arrived with a link to an article about a missing seventeen-year-old girl named Gabriella Moreland, or as she was known to her family and friends, Gabby.
Linus skimmed the newspaper article about Gabby’s disappearance from Pelican Pointe last September on her way to a concert in Santa Cruz. The teen had never shown up to meet her friends that evening as planned, and she hadn’t been seen since.
A chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t help but remember the eerie feeling he had experienced earlier that day when he stumbled upon those bones. The chilling sight of the skull hiding beneath the bridge felt surreal. As he lay there, his mind raced with questions.
Before he could text Lake any of his thoughts, she sent him another message. You need to contact Brent Cody. According to the article, he’s handling Gabby’s case.
But I don’t know anything. Although…
Although what?
Jimmy Diaz’s cousin had a weird encounter on that bridge seven years ago. She said a cop stopped her and put some kind of cloth over her mouth during the traffic stop and took out a syringe. She was in trouble until this guy stepped in out of nowhere to help her. He tossed the cop to the side of the road and Sofia took off.
What? That’s insane. OMG. Could that have been Scott Phillips who helped her?
Can ghosts actually toss a grown man to the side of the road?
I don’t know. Maybe we should ask him. Scott, that is.
How do we do that?
Maybe he’ll come to us. This is all too much. You should probably get some sleep.
After knowing I might’ve found Gabby’s skull, that’s gonna be hard to do.
I’m sorry. Text if you can’t sleep.
Will you be up?
I’ll probably be reading. ~smiley face~ Goodnight, Linus
Goodnight, Lake
Just as he thought would happen, sleep eluded him for the next hour. He tossed and turned until almost midnight.
Finally, unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Linus swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his phone. He dialed the direct line for the police station, hoping that somehow someone could shed some light on the chilling discovery he had made.
The phone rang twice before a tired voice answered, “Pelican Pointe PD, Eastlyn Parker speaking. How can I help you?”
Relieved that it was Eastlyn on duty, he stammered a bit when he began, “Eastlyn, hi, this is Linus Canfield. I’m the one who found those remains under the bridge this afternoon.”
“Ah,” she replied knowingly. “When he was watching the news, Cooper said it was probably you. What’s wrong? Is there something else you need to report about the find?”
“Yes and no. I was wondering if forensics found anything else out there today?”
“Not that I know of. Chief Cody might have more information, but it hasn’t trickled down to me yet. I’m guessing you caught the news at ten. The Chief thinks the skull belongs to Gabby Moreland.”
“I heard. You are aware of strange things happening on that bridge, right? There’s a history that goes back to that state trooper who was stopping young women.”
“The state trooper in question is dead, Linus,” Eastlyn stated as if annoyed. “Rick Hackford died in the line of duty ten years ago. And Gabby Moreland has been missing for six months. Need I remind you that at the county sheriff’s office, Hackford’s name is synonymous with hero, not a sleazebag attacking women? So don’t go there.”
“Fine. But will you leave a note for Brent Cody to call me in the morning?”
“No problem. That I can do. Just don’t go tossing out Rick Hackford’s name in this case, Linus. Not only is that weird, but it’ll just upset the Chief if you mention that name.”
“Good to know. I promise I won’t upset your boss if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Linus assured her.
With that declaration, Linus said his goodbyes and hung up. But he felt frustrated. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he had to be careful with his suspicions, especially considering Rick Hackford’s reputation. And despite his mother’s misgivings about the man, there was no real proof Hackford had done anything wrong during his traffic stops, other than proposition women he wanted to date. As disgusting as that kind of behavior was, something else didn’t sit right with him. The eerie feeling he had experienced earlier when he found the skull continued to gnaw at him.
Still unable to sleep, Linus decided to do some research on his own. He opened his laptop and began searching for any information regarding strange occurrences on or near the bridge. He scrolled through countless articles and forum posts, each describing eerie encounters and unexplained happenings.
About an hour in, Linus stumbled on an old newspaper article from ten years ago. It detailed the harrowing account of Sofia Diaz, Jimmy’s cousin, who had encountered a corrupt cop, or someone posing as a cop, on that very same bridge. Her attacker had tried to subdue her with chloroform first before bringing out a syringe to make sure she wouldn’t fight back. The article even mentioned the mysterious man who had intervened, saving Sofia from what would surely have been a bad ending.
No wonder Sofia had suffered a mental breakdown, Linus concluded when he reached the end of the story. The ordeal was a prime example of a disturbing narrow escape, an event that still impacted Sofia to this day.
Letting out a sigh, he turned his attention to Gabby Moreland, scouring through news articles, police reports, and online forums in search of any information that could shed light on what happened to her.
As he delved deeper, Linus discovered a pattern—a disturbing connection between Gabby’s disappearance and several other young women who had gone missing. Why had that not been mentioned during the segment with the news reporter? What other young women had disappeared? During what timeframe?
Linus intended to find out. But frustration mounted as he continued to hit dead ends. It was as if someone had purposely scrubbed any trace of the bridge’s dark history. But why?
Beyond exhausted now and nearing two in the morning, Linus snapped his laptop closed and crawled back into bed.
For the remainder of the night, always a light sleeper, he slept fitfully with visions of women in distress and shadowy figures lurking on the bridge or close to the harbor, the sound of eerie whispers echoing over the waves. Each time he tried to grasp a solid understanding of what was happening, the images slipped through his fingers like smoke.
When he did sleep, he dreamed of ancient, cobweb-filled tunnels and shadowy figures chasing him. Each time he thought he had escaped, the dark figures would catch up, their eyes burning with a malevolent light. There were times Linus would wake up in a panic, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
Even though he knew none of it was real and he would fall back to sleep, he kept seeing Gabby Moreland’s face. The same smiling face captured in the prominent photo all over the internet seemed engrained in his brain.
Linus took it as a sign. With a renewed sense of determination, he would get to the bottom of Gabby’s death. If the skull did belong to her, he would find out who had put her there. And if the skull belonged to one of the other missing women, he’d find out why they had disappeared, too.