Page 37 of Firefly Effect

“Indefinitely, as far as I know.”

Shock stings me. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but I certainly didn’t anticipate my visit warranted such a cold response. “It’s just… He didn’t leave word for me. I guess I just wanted to see him, see if he’s okay.” My heart beats loudly in my chest.

Her eyes narrow into a glare. “Excuse my bluntness, Ms. Vaughn, but my husband’s whereabouts are none of your business.” Something flickers in her eyes, and she tilts her head to the side. “I was told you and his other patients were taken care of. Doreen assured me you’ve all been appointed someone new to oversee your mental health goals.”

Still stunned, I manage a nod. “Y-yes, someone has been appointed, and he’s nice, but—” I pause before I blurt out that Lincoln Reed cannot become my therapist, not with eyes and lips like his. “I’ve been in J.D.’s care for twelve years.” There. That should get her to understand why I’m so curious and concerned that I came all the way out here to check on him. “The change caught me off guard. It all felt so unexpected.”

Her face softens slightly. “I apologize for that, Evelyn, but you really shouldn’t be here.”

Her eyes shift to something behind me for just a millisecond before they’re back on mine, and I turn to see what caught her attention. At first glance, I notice nothing of importance, until I realize a black car with tinted shades is parked at the curb across the street.

A chill shoots up my spine. “Who’s that?” I demand.

Gena blinks, appearing startled by my question. “Who’s who?”

I make a dramatic show of pointing at the car. “There.”

“I have no idea.” The discomfort in her voice, her mirthless little laugh at the end, tells me she’s lying.

Confusion begins to melt into frustration. Dropping the subject of the car, I focus back on trying to get through to her. “I… I don’t understand. Even if J.D. is no longer my therapist, he’s still my friend.”

Gena flinches—maybe at my boldness? “You should leave.” She begins to shut the door.

Not ready to give up, I take one more desperate look around the outside of the house. Not a single light appears to be on, and the shades all seem to be drawn. I can’t conclude if any of that is out of the norm for J.D. and Gena, but something feels… off.

“Tell me he’s okay,” I beg as the door closes.

Gena pauses and stares back at me, one eye hidden behind the door, then she nods slowly. “He’s perfectly fine. Now, good day, Ms. Vaughn.”

The door closes completely, and I hear the lock click, signifying my opportunity is over.

But I got what I came for. Didn’t I? I got confirmation that J.D. is okay, straight from his wife. I may never find out why he chose to leave or why he left the way he did, but at the end of the day, that isn’t what matters.

And Gena is right—it’s none of my business.

I walk back to my rideshare flooded with disappointment, but I try to force myself to think about what’s next with my therapy, wondering if it’s something I still want. I just hate that all these memories I thought I’d finally drowned have been triggered again after one tubing adventure down Deep Creek. I’ve gone years without visualizing the sordid details of that night. Now, I can’t seem to stop retracing my steps through those woods. Asleep or awake, they continue to come.

Unfortunately, even if I did want to drown the dark memories like before, I know that’s impossible now. Not with Lincoln’s seeming obsession with wanting to know every detail about me, including my tragic past. He thinks releasing my suppressed memories will free me from the tethers that hold me to that awful night.

Maybe he’s right—maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.

I just don’t know how.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

EVELYN

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.

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