Page 39 of Firefly Effect

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?”

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