Chapter Seven
Without a fire station of its own, Pelican Pointe depended on various firehouses throughout the county to assist and respond to their emergencies. With fire trucks and ambulances dispatched from other locations, the response time could be lengthy. But that all changed in 2017 when the town renovated a rundown former packing house and turned it into a hospital. After that, Mayor Murphy petitioned the state for their own firehouse and paramedic team that, for now, was based inside the hospital until they could build a new fire station.
The firehouse, still under construction at the corner of Pacific Street and Landings Bay, had gone over budget twice and was taking longer than originally planned. But Ryder McLachlan’s crew—just as they had done while renovating the state-of-the-art hospital—wanted to get it right. With some last-minute code requirements, the firehouse was slated to open on Saturday, June 15th.
But until then, Linus was attached to the hospital, which had undergone still more additions since opening with a second floor increasing the number of beds.
He’d been lucky enough to get picked for the assignment because of his experience. For six years, he’d been a full-fledged member of the ever-growing trauma team. It meant that the doctors and nurses on staff treated him like any other medical professional. It meant that instead of hanging out at the firehouse in San Sebastian watching television between calls, he hung out during his shift around the impressive ER facility, assisting the emergency department when they were short-handed.
When an urgent situation arose outside the hospital, he could still hop into an ambulance and be on scene within a few minutes. But what Linus loved most about his job was getting to hang out inside the ER. He’d learned so much more from the entire staff than he ever thought possible.
At three that afternoon, Linus walked into the hospital and changed into his dark blue uniform. As he signed the roster near the emergency entrance, he could tell the staff was worried about the storm.
“Losing power is our biggest fear,” Gideon Nighthawk told him.
Linus slapped the surgeon on the back. “Don’t worry. We went through the mock preparedness drill last January during our lull. Those big-ass generators we have are like new. Quentin wanted the best and he got them—three diesel-fueled, three-megawatt generators—that will kick on as soon as there’s an indication of a power dip. They’ll run for seventy-two hours if you need it.”
Quentin, the town doctor, came up beside the two men. “It takes like seven seconds for those generators to pop on. The lights dim briefly but won’t stop working. Same with the medical equipment and life-sustaining devices.”
Gideon still looked worried. “I know, but right now, we have three post-op patients who require those life-sustaining devices. I hope they’re right about how much emergency supplies we have on hand, enough for ninety-six hours.”
“It’s the flooding I’m worried about,” Linus tossed out. “Not for this place, we practically sit up higher than the rest of the town. But others may see a lot of water from high tides.”
“That’s why we should be ready for anything,” Quentin urged. “Thanks for coming in after a twelve-hour shift yesterday. You don’t look like you got much sleep during your break.”
“I didn’t. I had some personal stuff to deal with.”
“It’s the personal stuff that keeps us up all night,” Gideon cracked, distracted as he skimmed the emergency contact list. “I’ve called in our most experienced staff, which leaves Jimmy Diaz on standby. The skilled should get us through the early hours of the first storm wave.”
“Jimmy’s a well-trained EMT, an asset in almost any situation,” Linus volunteered.
“And he’ll probably get the call before the night is through but for now, I think we’re ready with the best staff possible.”
“Do you know if that includes Sheena?” Linus asked.
“Sure. The last time I saw her, she was in radiology, taking a picture of Kyle Sullivan’s broken wrist.”
“Thanks. I’ll find her.” Linus headed down the hall toward the imaging department, wondering why Jimmy was put on standby. He found Joy Sullivan, Kyle’s anxious grandmother, in the waiting room. “What happened to Kyle?”
“Fell off his bicycle and hit the curb with his wrist. Dr. Blackwood confirmed that it’s broken so here we are. Sheena’s back there now, wrapping his arm and putting on the cast. She says he doesn’t even need a sling.”
“In my experience, kids won’t wear a sling anyway,” Linus said. “I’ll go check and see how much longer Kyle will be. How does that sound?”
“Thanks, Linus,” Joy said. “Watching grandkids these days wears me out.”
Linus chuckled. “No problem. Watching six-year-olds would wear anyone out,” he cracked, pushing open the door into imaging. He found Sheena in one of the treatment rooms, wrapping Kyle’s arm with a bright orange fiber material. He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Let’s see your war wound. Who won?”
Kyle giggled and grinned wide enough to show off his two front missing teeth but didn’t say anything.
Persistent, Linus’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. You knocked out your two front teeth, too.”
“No!” Kyle shouted. “The tooth fairy gots ’em. My bike broke my arm.”
“I heard the concrete did that.”
“Don’t wriggle,” Sheena warned the boy. “We’re almost done. Don’t you dare get him all hyped up, Linus. I just got him to sit still long enough for me to get this far.”
“Yikes, looks like we’re both in trouble now,” Linus teased. He went over to a drawer and pulled out two Tootsie Roll Pops, one red, one purple. “Did you give him his reward for being good?”
Kyle’s brown eyes lit up. “Cherry.”
“Cherry it is. My personal favorite.”
“There, all done,” Sheena announced with a sigh. “Your grandmother will wonder what took us so long.”
“Can I go now?” Kyle asked, lollipop in hand.
“Yes, I’ll walk you out,” Sheena offered, lifting the boy off the treatment table. To Linus, she wanted to know, “Please tell me it’s stopped raining.”
“No such luck. The wind’s picked up. We could be looking at a long night for all of us if the power goes out.”
“I’ve already been here since eleven this morning. That’s all we need is to go into emergency mode. The idea we might have to evacuate patients is not something I want to consider right now.”
“I hear ya.”
After reuniting Kyle with his grandmother, Linus turned to Sheena. “I need to ask you something. It might sound kind of weird. But did you ever check out a book from the library about the Zodiac Killer last July?”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t used my library card in…forever. And I have two of them, one from here, one from San Sebastian. Between filling in at two different hospitals, who has time to read? Besides, I’m not a fan of serial killers. I’m a single woman who lives alone. Why would I read anything that would probably scare me to death? I’d never leave the house.”
The two began walking down the corridor back to the main entrance. “Ah. Yeah. I see your point.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because someone used your card to check out a book about the Zodiac Killer. Every true crime book in that place has gone missing since then.”
Sheena’s mouth fell open. “So this book is overdue for how long? Nine months? That’s probably like a fifty-dollar fine or something.”
“No, there’s no fine due. Apparently, since Lake Marigold took over, she started a fine-free system.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, that’s something, I guess. Wait a minute,” Sheena said, stopping in her tracks. “This is about that serial killer business and Gabby Moreland.”
“I don’t know. But it’s a weird coincidence if the two aren’t connected.” About that time, his pager went off. “Looks like it’s time to rock ’n roll. There’s an accident with injuries reported on the east side of town.”
“Who are you working with today?”
“Deacon Rowland from San Sebastian, otherwise known as Deke. We worked a double shift together last month.”
“I guess that means you could be transporting the injured between two hospitals.”
“Sounds like it.”
“That means a busy night. Stay safe out there.”
“Thanks. You, too. Catch you later.”
After closing the library, Lake made a mad dash in the rain for her Beetle parked near the front door. The wind whipped the umbrella she held and almost turned it inside out. She didn’t let go until she had settled in the cramped space behind the wheel, moving the umbrella to the floorboard on the passenger side. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned on the windshield wipers, defroster, and heater before revving the engine. But the heat just made the windows fog up. She lowered the heat and waited until the glass had cleared before heading out of the parking lot toward Dog Tails to pick up Farley.
A few minutes later, thunder rumbled overhead. It reminded her to park as close as she could get to the front door. She pulled past the black and gray Dog Tails sign, knowing Ellie’s layout because she’d toured the facility a month ago when it opened.
Ellie and Hollis had bought two buildings across from one another that shared one parking lot. Ellie’s side offered two indoor play areas with artificial turf and one fenced area outdoors where the dogs could romp and run around. Hollis’s boarding and grooming side offered roomy individual kennel suites that came with beds and their own dog dishes.
Lake stepped inside the front door into a sizable reception area where Ellie greeted her with a smile. “Linus said you’d be coming by for Farley.”
“How was he today? Farley, not Linus.”
Ellie tittered with laughter. “Rambunctious. I try to spend extra time with him, but it never seems to be enough. Follow me back and you can see for yourself how anxious he is.”
“Sure. I don’t get it. He wasn’t at all like that last night with Jack and Scout.” She followed Ellie down a long hallway where only two other dogs lounged in their individual crates. Seeing them penned up made her grateful that Jack and Scout could fend for themselves during work hours. Neither were considered high-maintenance dogs, not like Farley. But she still didn’t like to see dogs, especially big ones, in a cramped crate.
“If you’re wondering where the other dogs are, most have already been picked up for the day. With another wave of storms blowing through here, people want to get home early.”
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
Farley was at the end of the row. As soon as he recognized her, he began to bark, pacing and jumping, wanting out. Ellie obliged by opening the door and immediately hooking his leash to his collar. Farley leaped forward, shoving his body onto Lake’s, showing her how glad he was to see her.
“Okay, okay,” Lake sputtered, finally getting Farley to calm down, encouraging him to stay on all fours without leaping into her arms again.
“See what I mean?” Ellie said. “It’s like he forgets what he’s learned in class.”
“Aww,” Lake cooed as she scratched Farley under his chin and behind the ears. “Let’s get home out of the rain. Maybe you don’t like hearing the thunder.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Lake nodded and waved and started toward the exit. She wasn’t so sure this was the best place for Farley. She had nothing against Ellie or her facility. In fact, Ellie kept it spotless and was good to the dogs. Her doggie daycare filled a void for working dog owners. But not all pups were suited to daycare.
While Lake agreed that Farley needed more socialization, she felt her dogs could fill that role. “Come on, boy. Let’s pack you into my car and take you home. Back seat for you today.” As she approached the VW bug in the rain, she sighed. She hoped she wouldn’t need to stuff three dogs into her Beetle anytime soon. Maybe she did need that four-wheel drive after all.
At home, Lake let Farley settle in with her dogs while she ran upstairs to change out of her dress and into thick, warm leggings and an oversized sweater.
The primary bedroom, once her father’s, now belonged to her. It came with a roomy ensuite bathroom, complete with walk-in shower, which she absolutely loved. She’d made a few changes since making this bedroom hers three years earlier. No longer a dark palette with industrial blacks and browns, Lake had redone the master bedroom using her own white furniture from her old bedroom—headboard, nightstands, blanket box, and shelving—that brightened the place considerably, especially using accents in softer pastels. Gone were her father’s dark, heavy-layered fabric drapes. She’d replaced them with sheer, feathery curtains that let in the sunshine. She favored her grandmother’s blue and white handmade quilt over a store-bought comforter from a big box store. No pinks or corals for Lake, but rather a blue and teal color theme throughout that offered an airy appeal, a place to curl up at night and let the ocean breeze lull her to sleep.
After slipping her feet into a pair of fluffy suede booties she went out to the landing and the hall closet to drag out a few of the emergency supplies she stored there. Inside were things like extra candles, matches, flashlights, extra batteries, extra rolls of toilet paper, and an old green metal tool kit that had belonged to her grandfather.
The second-story floor plan, added in 1914, stayed simple through the early part of the 20th century. But as the years progressed, chamber rooms became bedrooms, and water closets turned into modern conveniences with stricter plumbing codes. The mid-1960s saw her grandparents go all out and take out a second mortgage to build two spacious bathrooms, both with shower stalls, one for their primary bedroom, the other in the hallway sandwiched between two other bedrooms. The grand plan became the talk of the neighborhood. The buzz had brought neighbors by to ooh and aah over the finished transformation.
But what most people seemed to forget about the Marigold House was that those renovations had endured five more decades before another would come along. Upgrades didn’t come cheap on a professor’s salary. The same could be said of librarians. The kitchen remodel done fifteen years ago was the last big project the house had undergone. That is, until she upgraded the walk-in shower in her bedroom.
But Lake wasn’t one to complain. She took it in stride when folks poked fun and called it an eyesore. To her, 1802 Bishops Bay would always be her home. And that’s all that mattered.
Along the hallway, she set out candles within easy reach in case they lost power in the middle of the night. After grabbing one of the flashlights, she padded downstairs using the back staircase into the kitchen.
As soon as the dogs spotted her, all three ran up to beg for dinner. She went to the refrigerator and brought out the subscription dog food, mixed up a bowl for each one, and watched as they devoured the food. After setting out fresh water, a loud roar of thunder sent the dogs into panic mode.
Lake let out a sigh, realizing it could be a long night with three dogs adapting to each other along with the unpredictable weather. She picked up her phone to check for messages. But if things were crazy here, they were probably even more so for Linus.
When her stomach rumbled with hunger, she decided to dig out a jar of homemade vegetable soup from the pantry and poured the contents into a pan. With the soup simmering, she got out cheese and bread to make a grilled cheese sandwich. While melting the butter in a skillet, Lake”s thoughts wandered back to Linus. Although they had just connected, she’d already opened her big mouth and, in a weird sort of way, suggested he spend the night. She’d never been this bold with anyone else, this soon. She wondered what it was about Linus that had precipitated the change in her behavior. But she was, after all, babysitting his dog during a storm. She knew storms could make people do crazy things.
As she flipped the grilled cheese sandwich to brown on the other side, Lake couldn’t help but wonder what Linus was experiencing at that very moment.
Outside the wind battered the house. The storm’s fury echoed inside her head as she turned off the griddle, plated her sandwich then took her soup over to the island counter. After getting comfortable on one of the barstools, she turned on the weather radio. Despite the warnings about flooding and high wind, her mind kept drifting back to Linus. She could imagine him huddled in the rain, tending to whatever emergency had occurred, dealing with the turmoil that surrounded him.
Scout led the dogs into the kitchen, licking her chops and plopping down at her feet. As lightning and thunder cracked and shook the house, Scout whined, causing Jack and Farley to follow suit.
“You’re my ’fraidy cat, aren’t you?” Lake consoled, scratching Scout under her chin. When the other two wanted attention, she leaned in to cuddle Farley and Jack. “Don’t worry. Tonight, we’re in this together. We’ll get through it. You’ll see.”
She polished off her soup and part of the sandwich, wrapping the rest in a napkin for later. Just as she finished cleaning up the dishes, the lights blinked once, then cut off, and everything plunged into darkness.
The dogs bellowed their disapproval.
She grabbed the weather radio and scooped up her laptop out of habit, deciding the battery should last at least a couple of hours if she used it continuously—which she wouldn’t do—unless she got desperate. But with no internet connection, the thing was practically useless. She decided to chuck the laptop and stick with her cell phone to communicate. As soon as she could, she’d text Linus.
With the flashlight, she made her way to the front room, called the parlor during her grandmother’s day. Here, the fireplace took up one entire wall. She had another stash of candles with a box of matches she kept on the mantel. As she lit each candle, a soft glow filled the room, creating dancing shadows on the walls. Knowing the power hadn’t come back on yet, she went over to the floor lamp and turned the switch on anyway so the lamp would let her know when and if the electricity returned.
Until then, she’d build a fire. She picked out two dry logs from the basket by the hearth, broke up kindling to lay between the seasoned wood, and listened to the crackle and pop as the flames built.
The storm outside grew louder, sending flashes of lightning all through the house. Surrounded by her canine companions, she pulled out a thick blanket from the storage bench and settled down on the camel-colored sofa.
Farley nestled his head in her lap while Jack and Scout curled up on either side of her. She tossed the blanket around them all, creating a cocoon of security.
While the radio droned on about flash floods and high wind, she leaned back with the dogs, glued to the faint beam from the flashlight and the flickering of the candles, trying to remain calm.
She noticed Scout and Farley, their bodies shaking with each howl of the wind. So fierce was each gust that it rattled the windows. As the rain pelted against the glass, she knew she had to be the anchor here.
Lake tamped down the anxiety beginning to build in her stomach. She forced herself to focus on the comforting moment instead of nature’s fury. But with no distractions from modern technology, she found that difficult. Instead, she tried to zero in on the shimmering candlelight and the sound of rain tapping against the glass. Her mind wandered back to Linus once again. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment—whether he was safe and dry or out there battling the elements to keep someone safe.
As if reading her thoughts, Farley let out a low whine and nudged his head against her hand. Scout nestled further against Lake’s side, seeking comfort and warmth while Jack snuggled up as close to her body as he could get. At that moment, she wasn’t sure who was comforting or soothing whom. Lake closed her eyes and listened to the symphony of the storm, trying to will the lights back on. She should probably go to the basement and make sure they hadn’t tripped a breaker. But right now, she wanted to stay right where she was. She’d give it twenty minutes. If the power wasn’t back on by then, she’d venture downstairs and check the breaker box before switching on the generator.
As she waited for the power to return, the minutes ticked by while the deluge outside kept up a steady downpour. Again, instead of enjoying the moment, she began to worry about the roof. Was it in good enough shape to withstand the sixty-mile-per-hour wind gusts forecasted? She remembered the last time the roof went through a storm like this. Seven years earlier, during an El Nino weather pattern, the back shingles had blown off, and her dad had to put on a new roof. She hoped this wasn’t a repeat of that.
A boom of thunder made Lake’s heart pound in her chest, mirroring the roar that echoed through the darkness. She tightened her grip on Farley, feeling his warm breath against her skin, a reminder that she was not alone.
With each passing second, Lake’s anxiety intensified. The once comforting flicker of candlelight now seemed inadequate. She needed more than just a weak flame to get through this sea of uncertainty. The thought of venturing into the basement in the dark sent shivers down her spine, but she knew she had no other choice.
Gently extricating herself from the cocoon of dogs, Lake rose from the couch, gripping the handle of the flashlight to use as a weapon.
“You three stay put,” she instructed as she zigzagged her way across the foyer to the basement door located in the middle of the hallway. She hesitated for a moment before reaching for the knob, pausing to take a deep breath to steady herself. The door swung open with a prolonged squeak.
She flipped the light switch just to test the electricity again before aiming the beam down the wooden staircase. With each step, the boards creaked. Hundred-year-old wood tended to do that, she decided as she tiptoed all the way to the bottom. Scenes from a dozen horror movies crept into her brain. She ignored every scary film she’d ever watched as she followed a cinderblock wall to the breaker box.
With one hand holding the flashlight, she used the other to flip each switch back and forth, hoping to jar something inside the box that would restore the electricity.
“It’s not the breaker box,” a voice from the darkest corner revealed. “Power is still out.”
She shrieked and jumped back, shining the light into that black area.
“Sorry. Bad timing on my part,” Scott admitted. “I thought you saw me.”
Lake’s eyes focused on Scott’s usual attire—khaki shorts and a shirt. “You scared the crap out of me. But luckily, I recognized the voice. You’ve been in the library a few times. We’ve talked about books.”
She moved over to the corner where the generator had been set up. She was about to plug in the cord when the overhead lights flickered to life and then stayed on—five seconds, ten, then a whole minute.
“Yes!” Lake yelled as she pumped her arm. She turned to face Scott. “Why are you here tonight of all nights? Nasty weather out there. Did you have something to do with the lights coming back on?”
Scott chuckled “Sorry. No. I’m not all-powerful like that. Although—” Scott pointed behind him to the window.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Lake said as she made her way back across the basement. But a flap-flap-flap sound caused her to stop and listen. Her heart quickened as she followed the noise and realized the long, narrow window on one side had come undone from the latch.
“The wind must’ve blown it open,” she muttered, climbing over an old trunk to reach the handle and hook the latch back to the frame. “Is that how you got in here?”
“Nah. My superpower is walking through walls. And making sure I don’t scare the dogs.”
As she sat perched on the trunk, a giggle escaped. “Just me, huh? Well, if anyone could walk through walls, that would be you. Since you’re here, what do you know about rescuing women off the bridge near Fire Harbor?”
“You want to talk about serial killers on a night like this when you’re here alone?”
“We have missing women out there, possibly connected to that serial killer who is snatching women. When would you like to talk about it? I can always make an appointment.”
“Very funny. You should stay off that bridge. And tell others to do the same.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve had my own spooky experiences out there. I’ve seen you there. Watching. Waiting. Making sure women get across safely. I know you saved at least six of them, probably more. But you couldn’t save all of them, could you?”
Scott shook his head. “I wasn’t even there the nights the other women disappeared.”
“That’s what I thought. You can’t be everywhere every time,” Lake said, trying to soothe his anguish. “Even ghosts have their limits. Why did you come here tonight anyway?”
“You’ve been pining after Linus for what, a year?”
Lake’s spine stiffened as she slid off the trunk. “I have not been pining. Don’t tell me you fixed it where he finally came to his senses.”
Scott held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I don’t do stuff like that. But if you’re gonna accuse me of matchmaking, I’m out of here.”
Lake watched as Scott’s image dissipated right in front of her. “Wait. Don’t go. I could use the company on a stormy night like tonight.”
But it was too late. Scott had already vanished.
Thrilled by his visit, she took the stairs two at a time and switched off the flashlight as she returned to the first floor. As soon as she reached the top, the dogs greeted her with tails wagging. Scout jumped up, placing her paws on Lake’s chest as if to say, “You’re back! We missed you!” Little Jack, always ready to play, sniffed her hand. But Farley hung back, refusing to budge from where he stood.
“What’s wrong, Farley? There’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe here,” Lake assured him, leading the dogs back across the foyer and into the front room. “We’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll sleep down here tonight. How would that be?”
Grateful for the return of light, she plopped back down on the couch cushions. A bump of nostalgia washed over her. This old house had been in her family for generations. It had seen storms come and go, witnessed tears of joy and sorrow, and provided shelter from life’s hardships. It was a place etched with memories—both happy and heartbreaking.
The sound of distant sirens broke into her reflective mood.
The sirens made her think of Linus. As if to answer some plea to get to hear his voice, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. With jittery hands, she fumbled to answer it, her heart pounding in anticipation. It was him—it was Linus.
“Hey, Lake,” his voice crackled through the line, barely audible amidst the thunderous backdrop. “How are you guys holding up? Are you okay?”
“We lost power for about half an hour, but the lights are back on now. We have a fire going, so we’re nice and cozy. How about you?”
“Power’s been a problem. The hospital had to go into backup mode for a while, but we’re fine now. I wanted to call and let you know that it looks like I’ll be working through the night. I might not be able to pick up Farley until morning.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Do what you need to do.”
“Somehow, I knew you’d understand.”
“Just stay safe.”
“You, too. Will you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I know you’ve already found stuff about the bridge. But could you possibly check online for more accounts from people who’ve encountered anything weird? Look for any eyewitness accounts of anything strange or out of the ordinary.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help. Want me to write them down?”
“That’s not necessary. Maybe provide links to the stories, though. Look, I’ve got to run now but I’ll see you in the morning. I was really looking forward to us spending our first night with each other.”
“I haven’t rescinded the offer, Linus. You can stay over if you want.”
His voice perked up. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Call if you need anything. Stay safe. Okay?”
She heard a click on the other end of the phone and then the line went dead. “Linus? Are you there?”
But there was only silence. She glared at the phone in her hand to find zero bars available. No internet service, no phone provider. She stared at the screen and got up to check the landline. She went over to the desk and picked up the receiver. And just her luck, the vintage moss green phone with its rotary dial from the 1970s was as useless as her shiny sleek Apple iPhone.
Oh, how she hated thunderstorms and how they impacted modern conveniences. What had her ancestors done without the internet?
She endured the interruption until the storm finally calmed down around ten. The wind that had howled so loud earlier was a mere whisper through the trees. The once furious rain was now reduced to a gentle spatter against the windows.
She tried taking the dogs out to the backyard to do their business, but the lawn was a muddy mess. So were her poor plants. Every flower and vegetable had taken a beating. Of all the tulips, the purple rows had taken the worst of the rain and wind.
After twenty minutes, the dogs were eager to get back inside where it was warm. In the sunroom, she used towels to dry off their wet fur and dirty paws until they were clean enough to take upstairs.
While she brushed her teeth, the trio of dogs sprawled out on top of her grandmother’s quilt. She winced, realizing a second labradoodle made things unbelievably crowded, even in a king-sized bed. She tried getting Scout and Jack to scoot over, but all three seemed drowsy with sleep.
Making a snap decision, Lake grabbed a blanket out of the storage box at the foot of the bed and headed downstairs to the front room. The temperature had dropped making the room feel too chilly for sleeping. Getting kicked out of her own bedroom had its challenges. She added two more logs to the dwindling fire before grabbing her laptop and settling down on the sofa.
After booting up the computer, she realized the internet was back. For the next several hours she drilled down deeper into sightings on the bridge, some rumors, some myths, and saved the links for Linus to read later.
She fell asleep imagining what Linus had in mind for their first night together. In her dreams, they made love under a starry sky, in front of a crackling fire, their bodies coming together in a dance of passion and longing, their hearts beating as one. As the embers of the fire faded into the background, the darkness deepened. Lake found herself embraced by an overwhelming sense of belonging; one she’d never felt before with anyone else.