Chapter 12
TWELVE
After thanking my driver,I hop out onto the Main Street sidewalk and dash back into Firefly. Janessa is still sporting her shades as she stares up at the television, pale as a ghost.
“Just call me your knight in shining armor and get the hell out of here before you get sick in my bar,” I tell her, my tone teasing.
She doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. Her eyes are still glued to the television, her mouth open. I look up to see what’s gripped her attention then have to squint to make sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing on the local news.
It’s a scene much like the one we were part of nearly fourteen years ago. Swirling red and blue lights reflect off a campground that, at first glance, looks just like Deep Creek. Crime scene tape cordons off the surrounding areas, and a white tent sits propped within the tape’s border. I shouldn’t be aware of what goes on under that white tent, but I know all too well. When there’s a dead body, that’s where the collected evidence is taken for review before it’s photographed, bagged, and taken to a facility for testing.
It takes me a while to tune into what the reporter is saying, but even then, I only catch bits and pieces.
Another man found deceased in the woods.
No witnesses.
Last seen hiking alone just the day before.
Police are investigating a homicide.
Suddenly, I’m hanging on every word.
“Spectators are already asking if there’s a connection to any of the other rumored Firefly Man murders that have taken place in the Great Smoky Mountains, beginning with fifteen-year-old Carley Pruitt,” the reporter says. “Pruitt’s murder took place at Deep Creek Campground in Bryson City, fourteen years ago. Police will certainly be looking into all similarities of the crimes.”
“What campground is that?” I ask, my body shaking. “Why is our local news reporting it?” I have to force the words from my throat.
Janessa frowns. “I don’t know.” Our eyes stay glued to the screen until we both see it at once.
Backcountry Camp 60, reads the ticker. It takes me a few seconds to place that location on my mental map. Several camps like that are available for wilderness hikers who venture through the Appalachians, and they are often used by backpackers who are making their way past Bryson City.
“That’s like five miles from here.” I say the words out loud, but Janessa knows the backcountry far better than I do.
“I know,” she croaks. “I’ve camped there.”
We look at each other, the panic in Janessa’s glazed-over features matching how I feel inside. If it’s only five miles from here, that means it’s even closer to Deep Creek Campground. And if the news report is true, and this crime is possibly connected to the Firefly Man, that means the killer is closer to Bryson City than he’s been in fourteen years.
That’s too close.
Why? Why, after all these years, would he come so close to the scene of his first crime?
I don’t even hesitate to send Janessa home to shut down the bar. I leave a note on the door, letting our customers know that Firefly management is reserving this time to grieve for another life lost.
Once the bar doors are locked and the shades are drawn, I sit back down and turn up the volume on the television, listening for more updates. Whoever did this must pay. All I can hope is that whatever evidence the police are gathering leads them straight to the piece of shit responsible. I don’t think I can handle another unsolved murder in this area.
I’m buzzing from four green tea shots when there’s a knock on the Firefly door. At this hour of the afternoon, I’m not surprised. The locals would normally start trickling in by now, and Patrick would never allow his bar to shut down during regular operating hours. Then again, this place hasn’t seen a homicide in fourteen years, so I feel justified in calling the shots with this one.
I make my way to the entrance and open the shades, planning to let whoever it is know that the locked door isn’t a mistake. But when I see Lincoln staring back at me, a worried frown creasing his forehead, I immediately unlock the door.
The moment I open the door, he rushes in, enveloping me in a hug like he knows it’s exactly what I need.
He holds me close. “Are you okay?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, a flood of emotions pouring through me, and I bury my face in his shoulder to keep the tears at bay. I’m not okay, but I’m not sure I can speak quite yet. Instead, I shake my head and cling to him a little tighter while he shuts and locks the door behind us. He even redraws the shade before fully engulfing me in an embrace so real, so powerful, I almost forget why I needed it in the first place.
Finally, I manage to say, “I couldn’t keep the bar open after hearing about that man.”
He holds me tighter. “I’m so sorry. As soon as I heard the news, I couldn’t help thinking about that story you told me about your friend Carley. They even mentioned her on the news.”
“I know. I’ve been watching for updates all day. Well, after I found out. I ran out for an hour to go see J.D., and when I came back, the news must have just broke.”
Lincoln looks completely taken aback. “Wait. You what?”
I search his face, trying to understand his reaction. “I went to J.D.’s house.” When Lincoln’s expression doesn’t change, I sigh. “Look, he wasn’t just my therapist. He was my friend. Doreen didn’t know why he suddenly up and left the business he’d spent his life building, so I paid him a visit. I wanted to make sure he was all right.”
Lincoln’s eyes dart between mine. “And? Did you talk to him?”
Disappointment engulfs me at the memory. “No. His wife wouldn’t give me any information. Just that he’s unavailable, whatever that means.”
Lincoln’s entire demeanor seems to relax a bit. “Then he must be fine. She would know if something was seriously wrong. Evie, the man is well past the average age of retirement. Maybe he was just ready to say goodbye.”
“That’s the thing, Lincoln. He didn’t say goodbye. He disappeared without a single word, giving us no reason. On top of that, the rumors that are starting to swirl around town are making me crazy. I just need to see him.”
Lincoln’s shoulders sag. “You don’t believe Gena?”
I hesitate for a second before shaking my head. “No, I don’t. She’s hiding something. I can feel it.”
He purses his lips and frowns like he finally understands. “I wish I knew—I would have come sooner. Maybe then I would have avoided getting questioned by your friend Gabe.” Lincoln rolls his eyes.
“What do you mean, questioned?”
“Gabe and some other cops stopped by the house earlier. I guess Kyle told him we were at Deep Creek together yesterday.” Lincoln looks completely perturbed. “Since that backcountry campsite isn’t too far away, they’re probably questioning everyone who was in the area.”
I frown. “Really? No one has spoken to me.”
“They probably stopped by and saw your sign, but they’re making their rounds.” His expression goes grim again. “Did you know the man who died?”
I shake my head. “They haven’t identified him yet, but rumor is that it’s someone from out of town, so I don’t think I know him.” I struggle to frame my thoughts through a tempest of emotions. “They’re saying it could be the Firefly Man. But why come back to this area?”
While I know Lincoln doesn’t have the same connection to this murder as I do, the look on his face tells me he’s haunted just the same. “I don’t know, Evie, but I trust they’re going to catch whoever this monster is.”
Anger bubbles up inside me. “How can you be so sure? Do you know how many murders go unsolved in the Appalachians every year? Eleven are linked to the Firefly Man alone. Maybe twelve now. They were lucky they caught the Balsam Grove killer. That murderer ran free for far too long.”
A muscle in Lincoln’s jaw ticks, and then his eyes soften on me. “Try to have faith, Evie, for Carley.”
The way his voice catches as he speaks my friend’s name causes tears to well in my eyes. “I’ll have faith when justice is served to this monster. Did Gabe or the other cops give you any details about the crime?”
He seems to think about this for a moment. “Not too many. They mostly asked questions to establish a timeline on me. When was I at the picnic area? When did I go tubing? Who was I with? When did I get home? Who took me home? Did I notice anything suspicious when I passed by the campground? That kind of stuff.” His eyes flicker to mine like he has something else on the tip of his tongue.
Something twists in my chest. “What?”
He looks away, like he’s nervous, before he says, “I mentioned you were with me, and Gabe’s attitude changed in a major way. He immediately went on the attack and started probing me harder, almost interrogating me like I had something to do with that man’s death.”
Uneasiness settles in my chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure his interrogation had nothing to do with the murder at all. He has no reason to question you like that.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I told you about Gabe and me. We weren’t serious, but he’s having a hard time believing that.”
Lincoln’s palms begin to rub my back in a gentle caress. “I fucking hate that you slept with that guy. He’s such a creep.”
Despite the circumstances, I have to bite back a smile. “You hate that I slept with Gabe because he’s a creep? Or because he’s not you?”
That earns me a glare and a tightened hold. “Both.”
A fluttering starts in my chest, something I’m beginning to get used to when I’m around Lincoln. “Don’t let him bother you. He’s just jealous.”
Lincoln’s gaze darts to my lips then back to my eyes. “Does he have a reason to be?”
My cheeks heat like twin blow torches. “I’d say so.”
The small smile that curves Lincoln’s lips make my entire chest take flight. He slides one hand from the small of my back to my cheek. There’s a seriousness in his gaze that lights up every nerve ending in my body. The effect this man has over me is unreal.
“In that case,” Lincoln says, his raspy tone igniting something deep in my core, “let me take you home.”
Now it’s my turn to smile. Sometimes I forget that he doesn’t know every single thing about me. “I’m already home.”
Lincoln’s head tilts with confusion. “I’m not following.”
“I live here.” I point up to indicate the second story. “In the apartment behind that bookshelf. I moved out of Patrick’s house at twenty-one and came here to help manage the bar. It’s been the perfect little home for me over the years.”
Intrigue is written all over his face. “Do you have a secret entrance and everything?”
I shrug and smile. “Yup, but don’t ask me which book you have to pull to enter. You’ll need top-secret clearance for that.”
His eyes narrow. “How does one apply?”
“Well,” I tease with a little purse of my lips, “if one meets the strict criteria, I suppose a verbal request would suffice.”
He nods, his eyes searching my face. I wonder what he’s expecting to find. “I’m afraid to ask if I meet the criteria or not.”
Laughing lightly, I raise my chin. “You most definitely meet the criteria.” Then my mood dims, just thinking about this shit show of a day. “I just don’t think I’m up to reviewing applications tonight.”
He squeezes my hand. “That’s okay, Evie. I need to get home to Lucy, anyway.” He smiles softly. “I really was just going to take you home.”
I give him a mock glare, letting him know I’m not sure I believe him.
“You have my number,” he says. “You know, in case you need to get ahold of me. To talk… or if you need anything at all.”
He releases me, triggering an ache of disappointment. He’s right to go, but it doesn’t mean I want him to.
“Thank you, Lincoln.”
He takes a step back, our eyes still locked together. There’s a charge in the air, a connection I’ve never felt to another human, and I know Lincoln feels it too. His eyes light up, and he moves back to me, his arms wrapping around me in one confident swoop before he pulls me close. His mouth lands softly on my cheek then glides to my ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His beard is rough yet intoxicating all the same.
“So you know,” he rasps, “refraining from kissing you is the equivalent of holding my breath for too long. For now, I’ll starve myself of air, but that won’t be the case the next time we’re together.” He takes my earlobe gently between his teeth. “Consider it a warning.”
He steps back, leaving a chasm of space between us. So close, yet so far. The buzz of electricity radiates through the air, the current so strong that I can’t deny it. Finally, he makes his way back into the night, and the door shuts between us, clicking once I secure the lock.
Suddenly, I’m starved of air too—trapped like a tiny firefly in a jar, desperate to get to the man who just signaled his interest with a blink of his light. All I need to do is return his call with a flash of my own.
If only it were that easy.