Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
“Evie, I…”I stop talking when she starts to shake her head.
“Tell me the truth, Lincoln. The whole truth. Or you can turn around and leave.”
She has me. She doesn’t know how or why, but she found her bargaining chip and isn’t afraid to use it. I consider my options.
I could tell her what I’m hiding and relieve myself of all secrets, but who does that put at risk?
I could turn around and walk back out that door, but then I lose Evie and my chance of digging further into her memory for answers.
Sighing, I nod. “Okay.” I look around the empty bar. “But not down here.”
Her eyes are still narrowed on me. “Wait here while I shut down, then we can go upstairs.”
I pull out my phone to send Francine a warning that I might be home very late. She assures me she’s got it.
Then I send another, more troubling text.
Lincoln: I have to tell her.
Dylan: I warned you this would happen, man. This is why you never should have gotten involved.
Lincoln: You know I didn’t have a choice.
Dylan: Yeah, but you’re comprising the whole operation.
Lincoln: How? She agreed to help me if I tell her what I’m hiding.
Dylan: Jenkins probably said something to her.
I dwell on that thought for a second, knowing Dylan had seen her go around to the back of Jenkins’s home. Just as Dylan was coming to scare her away, she ran away like a crazy person.
Lincoln: If he did, she’ll tell me. This needs to happen.
Lincoln: I need you to keep an eye on my house. I’ve got things covered here for the night.
Dylan: All right, man. You got it. Good luck.
After I stick the phone in my back pocket, I look up to find a rattled-looking Evie. She does a half-assed job of cleaning before she tosses the towel onto the nearest table. Then she locks up behind me and walks straight up the spiral staircase to her bedroom behind the wall of books.
It’s not until we’re both inside with the door closed that she turns and speaks to me. “You should know, I went to see J.D. today.” She stares me down like she’s waiting for my reaction, but I have none. I already knew.
“Did you talk to him?”
Her eyes narrow at me, and for a second, I think she might know a hell of a lot more than I’ve let on. “What do you think?”
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “I think… if you expect honesty from me, then you need to be honest with me too.”
She blinks, her brow creasing slightly. “That’s fair. But why do I get the feeling you already know the answer to your question?”
I let out a heavy breath. “Because I do.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. “What the hell, Lincoln? You followed me to his house, didn’t you?”
“No. I didn’t follow you.”
“But someone did.”
The silence is enough to answer her question.
“Who?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Evie, I promised to tell you everything, and I will. As long as I have your word that you’ll help me in return.”
A flicker of pain flashes through her eyes. “You want my memories.”
I step closer, desperate to hold her, but stop in my tracks when she flinches. “I want everything.” My voice cracks with emotion. “All of you. Your memories included.”
“Why is J.D. hiding in his house? What is he afraid of?”
I take a long, deep breath, giving me time to reframe my thoughts to start at the beginning of my transfer to Bryson City. “Three years ago, I joined the FBI as a special agent. Dr. Rohls connected us. With my clinical-psychology expertise, my connection to the original victim, and my dissertation on the Firefly Man killings, the Bureau was interested in tapping into my knowledge to help build a theoretical profile on the killer.”
Evie’s delayed reaction makes me nervous, but when realization hits her, I see the color start to drain from her face. Her mouth parts ever-so-slowly, and her next blink is more like a flutter. “You’re in the FBI?”
I suck in a breath, hoping this confession allows me to feel relief at some point. “I’ve only been contracted to join the BAU for this job.”
Evie frowns. “The what?”
Cringing, I shake my head. “Sorry. The behavioral analysis unit. They investigate violent crimes. I’m a forensic psychologist on a task force. Anyway, until Lucy came into the picture, I had been traveling all over the Smoky Mountains with my partner, Dylan. You might have seen him lurking around.”
Evie sucks in a breath. “The man in the hoodie?”
I cringe again, hating how much I’ve had to keep from her. “Yes.”
“Was he the one who followed me to J.D.’s house?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “That’s him. We follow the crimes, investigate each murder, profile the people there, then move on. We were never in one town for more than a few months.”
“And when Lucy was born, you… what? Just stopped traveling?”
“Basically,” I admit. “I went on leave, and honestly, Evie, I wasn’t planning to ever return. Lucy was my number one focus. I had a new purpose. I was working on letting go of my past and everything I had been holding onto for so many years.”
Evie’s eyes search mine like her brain is working overtime to catch up. “Then that man was murdered three months ago a few towns away from here.”
Emotion swims in my chest. “That’s when I started to pick up on the pattern. It was the first time we were able to start looking at the Firefly Man’s hometown versus focusing on locations of upcoming killings—which are random, to an extent,” I explain. “He might choose a city, but it would be damn-near impossible to guess which campsite and which piece of land he will go to. After I offered up my theory of where he most likely lived, they asked me to rejoin the task force. We were able to confirm that the deceased man was a Smoky Mountain hiker who had passed through Bryson City not long before his death. That’s when we started talking to Jenkins.”
Evie’s frown deepens. “You were here in town before you moved here?”
I grimace. “Yes. Only because we were interviewing Jenkins. At first we were just talking to him about the hiker and the profile of the killer we had put together by then. We wanted to see if anything matched any of his patients.”
Evie’s eyes widen. “Did he identify anyone?”
Tilting my head, I tense. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Evie,” I say, frustrated now. “I’m telling you everything I absolutely can without compromising the work we’ve done. You shouldn’t be involved at all.”
She glares at me, her chin quivering. “I’ve been involved ever since I found Carley dead. Her death is a part of me, too, Lincoln.”
A breath rushes out of me as my eyes close. “I know. Please don’t take this as me discounting your part in all of this. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” I hope she can see the plea in my eyes and hear the desperation in my tone.
“Safe from whom, Lincoln? If it’s someone close to me, I should know. Especially after the break-in. You can’t sleep outside the bar every night.”
Anger mixed with possession and love rages in my chest. “I’d rather you just move in with me, but we both know I already tried that.”
She scowls. “I can’t even trust you. Why the hell would I move in with you?”
My chest burns like she touched a torch to it. I deserve her anger. I deserve these words. “Fine. Hate me if you want, but that won’t keep me from loving the hell out of you. Until this evil son of a bitch is caught, I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. If I don’t have my eyes on you, then someone else does.”
I step forward again, closing the gap between us so I can stare down into the depths of her eyes, shining like swirling sapphires. “And when this is all over, I won’t stop until I make you understand why it all had to happen this way. Why I had to move here. Why I had to get close to you. Why I had to get you to talk to me. And why I couldn’t help falling madly in love with you.”
Evie flinches. “You can’t tell me you love me. Not right now. I’m too mad at you, Lincoln.”
My hand moves to cup the back of her head. “Be mad at me all you want. You have every right. But I still love you.”
“You took over for J.D. so you could interview his clients,” she accuses.
My nod comes slowly, the fear of her pushing me right back out that door a definite possibility. “Yes.”
“But I wouldn’t take the consultation, so you sought me out.”
Again, I nod.
This time, the pain in her expression is accompanied by tears. “I opened up to you.”
A force strangles my heart at just the sight of her misery. My hands instinctively reach up to cradle her cheek. “Exactly, Evie. You opened up to me. We weren’t in a session. You weren’t under my care. You opened up to me as a friend, and I listened. That day tubing with you is one of the reasons I started falling in love with you.”
She squeezes her eyes shut again like she’s trying to stop more tears from falling, but they seep out anyway. “How can you say that when your reasons for getting to know me were all based on a lie?”
I growl and lean my forehead on hers. “This is so much more complicated than that. I came here for my sister, but I’m staying for you. You, Lucy, Francine—you’re my fucking world, and I refuse to let you think anything else. I never stopped thinking about you after Carley died, and not just because of her death.”
I pause, thinking back. “I remember how scared you were to go against Patrick’s rules. I remember how you giggled all day long with my sister. I remember the joy that lit up your face every time we watched the fireflies. I never stopped thinking about the way you looked at me. And even though it was so fucking wrong, considering how young you were back then, I was looking at you too.”
She grips my shirt as new streams of tears slip down her cheeks. “Stop,” she whispers. “You’re making it impossible for me to hate you.”
Hope ignites in my belly, illuminating the darkness we share like the single flash of a firefly”s light. “Because you don’t hate me. You can’t hate me, Evie. We’re connected, you and me. We’ll get through this, okay?” I brush her cheeks with the pads of my thumb, drying her tears. “I promise I’ll tell you everything I can.”
She opens her watery eyes. “Is Jenkins a suspect?”
I frown. “Everyone is a suspect at this point, but he’s been complying.”
“How?”
“By allowing me to take over his practice and disappearing to make it all believable.” My hands move from her face to her hips. “If my suspicions are accurate, then whoever we’re dealing with isn’t a stranger. In fact, it might even be someone very close to you. We think the killer is one of Jenkins’s patients and was at Deep Creek with us during Carley’s murder. Most of the campers there that trip lived in Bryson City. My family—the Pruitts,” I correct myself, “were the only out-of-towners. None of the Firefly Man’s victims live in the same town where they were killed.”
Her shoulders sag. “But you have leads?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that, Evie. I’m sorry.”
She searches my eyes again. “Does Francine know about your job? About your past?”
“No.” I swallow the quickly forming lump in my throat. “She knows nothing.”
Evie’s eyes widen. “Does Lucy know about Carley?”
I shake my head, and my reply comes out in a guilty whisper. “No.” I squeeze my eyelids shut then open them again. “One day, I’ll tell Lucy about her Aunt Carley, but the undercover work I’m doing needs to stay between us for now.”
She blinks at me a few times, seeming to process everything I’ve just told her. “So, now what?”
My entire body softens, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in my arms until this whole mess is over. “We can try to jog your memory.”
She shudders. “I’m scared, Lincoln.”
My heart swells. “I know, but I’m here, and I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
She waits a few beats like she’s trying to psych herself up, then she pushes back with a nod and a lifted chin. “Okay. I think I’m ready.”
Relief blows out of me in a rush of air, relaxing my shoulders. I reach my hand out to hers. “Why don’t you lie down and get comfortable? Then we’ll get started.”
Evie sits back on the bed and takes a deep breath before lying back. I turn off the big overhead lights and take my time coming back to her, giving her a moment to relax.
I sit down in the oversized chair near her bed and lean back, admiring Evie while praying that this time, we can bring out more memories.
“I’m not going to take you as deeply as I did last time. Can you pick up where we left off last?” I speak slowly, calmly, providing a safe environment in which her brain can roam free. “Picture yourself back in those woods, leaving Carley and me to go get help.”
She flinches slightly at my words. “I still can’t believe you’re Foster.”
I reach toward her and squeeze her hand. “I know. If it helps, try to avoid the connection right now. The boy is Foster, and he’s holding his sister, thinking of any possible way to bring her back to life and kill the monster who did this to her.”
She squeezes my hand, causing the same sensation in my heart. “I can do that.” Her voice is so soft and empathetic despite her being mad as hell at me for all my secrets.
Silence fills the room, creating a heaviness that weighs us both down—but sometimes that’s how waiting feels. I allow her to explore her thoughts without interjecting, until a gasp rises her chest.
“There’s someone else in the woods.”
The critical knee-jerk reaction in me wants to remind her that there were many people in the woods that night, but I refrain.
“Someone’s running. It’s so dark. I can’t see who, but they’re running away from me.” She balls her fist in frustration. “I follow them. I’m screaming for help, but… they’re running faster.” She frowns, her eyes closing tighter. “Someone grabs me. I scream again.” Her face twists. “He’s covering my mouth, whispering for me to be quiet.”
Suddenly, Evie’s entire body freezes, and color fades from her cheeks.
“What is it, Evie? What do you see?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not what I can see. It’s what the man says next.”
My chest tightens. “What does he say?”
She gasps. “Be quiet, or you’re next.”
I freeze. “Was it him? The Firefly Man”
Lines crease her forehead. “I don’t think so,” she whispers, then she sucks in a stuttered breath. “He held me to him for a long time, like he was buying time for someone to get away. I was so scared.” She quakes with those words.
“Did he hurt you?”
Evie shakes her head. “No.” She frowns again. “It was almost like he was trying to calm me down and protect me.”
Relief tries to knead at my tense shoulders. “Did he say anything else, Evie?” I try to hold back my desperation to get inside her head, to see what she’s seeing, to hear what she’s hearing.
She nods. “He kept saying it was an accident and that he felt so awful. He failed someone, but he didn’t say who. He didn’t know it would come to this.”
I catalog every detail of what she’s telling me into the buckets of evidence I’ve created in my mind. There’s not much to her story, but the smallest elements are what create and place the final puzzle pieces in my mind.
There’s just one more detail I need her to try to remember.
“Who was the man holding you, Evie?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see him, and he was whispering so I couldn’t place his voice.”
“That’s okay. Try to think about other details. His height, his build, his scent.”
She squeezes her eyes closed again. “I’m trying. Everyone seemed taller to me back then. I was a short little thing.”
“Think about the men who were there that night and try to place him that way. Jimmy, Jenkins… Patrick?” I hesitate on the last name, knowing she’s not ready to consider her uncle a possible suspect.
She jerks, her eyes flying open. “There’s no way Patrick is involved. I would know if that was my uncle behind me. It wasn’t.”
I move to the bed, hating that I’ve upset her. “I’m not saying he did anything, but whoever this man is, it sounds like he’s covering for the killer. I wasn’t counting Patrick out, but you’re right, you would know if it was him.”
Her eyes are pleading for understanding. “It wasn’t Patrick.” She sits up like she’s remembering something else. “After the man finally let me go, I ran straight to Jimmy’s campsite. They were both there, drinking beers.”
“Okay.” I lean forward as more puzzle pieces click together. “What else did you see at the campground? Was anyone acting suspicious?”
“I remember feeling… confused and disoriented, and I didn’t know what to say about the man who had just held me captive in the woods. So I told them about Carley. We called the cops together.”
She pauses and shakes her head. “The rest you know. The cops came, and I led them to Carley. And the next thing I knew, you were being handcuffed by the cops.” Tears slide down her cheeks again. “I tried to tell them you had nothing to do with it, but they didn’t want to hear what I had to say until I came down to the station. I did everything they asked, Linc. I told them every single detail, I begged them to listen, but they kept getting caught up in the fact that you and I got separated for as long as we did.”
Frustration rummages through my chest as old feelings surface. “But she was attacked before we got to her. I didn’t even see her when we got separated.” I try not to beat myself up for the millionth time over letting her take off without me in the first place.
Evie’s frown deepens. “She was wearing your black sweatshirt when we found her dead, Lincoln.”
The reminder of that small fact crushes me. “When I got to the lake and didn’t see her, I was worried. It gets chilly at night, especially down by the water, so I dropped my sweatshirt there, knowing she would grab it if she got cold.”
She blinks like she’s remembering something. “That night was especially chilly.” She looks at me. “Is any of this helping you?”
She has no idea. “Yes and no. We were still looking into Patrick and Jimmy, even though your testimony stated they were at the campsite during the murder. We couldn’t be certain that you weren’t just protecting your uncle and his friend. That hour missing from your alibi was critical. We still have work to do to narrow down our list of suspects.”
My heart throbs when I see her face fall with disappointment. I squeeze her hand. “We’re close, Evie. So close. It’s been fourteen years. Remember that, okay? We’re going to catch this guy.”
She slips the hand I’m not holding to my shirt, clutching it like she loves to do. It makes my chest fill with warmth, knowing I can provide her a smidgen of safety in our fucked-up situation.
“I can’t even imagine anyone in this town wanting to hurt all those innocent people,” she says. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
I reach for a strand of hair draped over her shoulder and brush it back. “Of course it doesn’t make sense. You’re good to the core.”
But she’s so deep in her thoughts, it’s like she doesn’t even hear me. “Is the campfire story true? Is the killer really going after people who hurt fireflies?”
“Ahh, I see you haven’t read my dissertation.”
She cocks her head, a hint of a smile teasing her lips. “Maybe if you published it, I would.”
“Touché. I guess I can give you the CliffsNotes version.” I place my hand on her silky thigh, waiting to see if she will remove it, but she doesn’t. “We are all fireflies,” I say, starting the same way my dissertation starts, “roaming through the sky. We seek a mate to call our own, until the day we die. Our sparkling light shines ever-so-bright in a nighttime serenade.”
Evie blinks back at me, her entire body softening with my words. “That’s beautiful, Lincoln. Is that another poem?”
My cheeks heat. “An unfinished one, but yes. My theory started a long time ago, right after Carley’s murder. Up until her death, the campfire tale was just that. Hers was the first, so I think the killer used the story to justify their actions.”
“That makes sense,” she says. “Like a copycat in a way.”
“Exactly.”
She shudders. “How are you going to track him down?”
I don’t want to give Evie any more details than she already has. Knowing her, she’ll hunt down the Firefly Man herself. “I think we’ve done enough detective work for the night.” I slide from the bed to stand. “Get some rest, Evie. I’ll be outside until morning.”
Something flashes in her eyes that I have trouble interpreting. Fear? Disappointment? Anger? I’m not sure.
“Can’t you stay?” she asks, and it jolts me like a bolt of electricity.
“Really?”
Her whole body sags with her next exhale. “You’re already here.”
I move back toward the bed so fast, it’s like I never left at all. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
She scoots over and slips under the sheets, not bothering to change into something more comfortable, so I follow her lead. I climb under the sheets and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back to my front and sighing into her hair.
She melts into the pillow as her eyes flutter closed. I watch her drift away in the comfort of my arms, waiting until she’s fully asleep to speak.
“I love you, Evie girl.”