Page 79 of Firefly Effect

My questions just keep coming, spiraling out of control to the point that they threaten to kick off another anxiety attack. But at the same time as I accept the fact that all the answers could be yes, I’m also finding reasons why all the answers could be no.

Every time my combative thoughts reject the notion that Lincoln is Foster, I picture Lincoln’s face, specifically his eyes. Those forest-green irises with the golden swirl. While I had only been up close and personal once when we were in the dark woods of Deep Creek, I’ll never forget the safety I found in his gaze. It’s the same sense of safety I’ve felt with Lincoln. How did I not see the connection before?

Is there a connection?

I’m still hesitant to accept it, which is why I need to just confront Lincoln.

I rush down the staircase and out the door, locking it behind me. Then I march down the street, and I don’t stop until I’m standing at the front door of Lincoln’s office building.

Doreen is typing something on her computer, so she doesn’t see me right away. When she does, she freezes completely then her brows bunch with confusion. “Evelyn, I don’t believe we’re expecting you this morning.”

“I didn’t make an appointment,” I blurt. “I’m not a client of Doctor Reed’s. I’m here for… personal matters. I need to talk to him.”

Doreen’s forehead smooths a bit, but she looks more disturbed now than confused. Lincoln has told me about the women who have made appointments to see him for less-than-honest reasons, and I know Doreen has taken notice of that as well, judging from what she told me in the face-painting booth. She probably thinks I’m one of them.

“I’m sorry, dear, but his first appointment isn’t until ten o’clock, so he stepped out to run some errands.”

Frustrated, I debate my next move. Do I try to track him down or stay here? “I can just wait in his office,” I suggest. “He won’t mind, I promise.” I cringe when she hesitates. “Call him if you’re not sure.”

Her hesitation lingers a few moments longer before she sighs and picks up the phone. I listen closely, trying to make out his voice on the other end, but it’s just a deep murmur.

Once she hangs up, she gestures to Lincoln’s office. “Doctor Reed will be back shortly. You may go in.”

I exhale my relief and enter his office, lightly closing the door behind me. At first, I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s one big, empty room without Lincoln in it. The shades are pulled up, revealing the view of the river and the morning foot traffic.

Looking around the familiar space, it’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time, trying to place the boy I knew long ago behind the big gray desk, typing away on his sturdy laptop.

As hard as I try, I just can’t see it, probably because I didn’t really know that boy. Foster was just a crush, a stranger with gorgeous eyes and a love for his sister that made me completely obsess over him for one week. One week. That was the length of our time together, and it all ended so tragically. How could I have possibly known he was the man who was supposed to be my new therapist?

And the timing of it all…

My stomach knots when I think about J.D. and his sudden disappearance. His wife won’t even talk about his whereabouts. Why? Is any of this connected at all? My thoughts churn, and my spine tingles. Nothing makes any sense, but I’m scared to learn what it all might mean.

Unable to sit still, I peruse his bookshelf, this time looking for anything and everything that can tell me who Dr. Lincoln Reed really is. So far, there’s one thing that begins to coalesce—a connection that drives me closer to an answer I’m still not sure I want to accept.

Foster Pruitt seems to have disappeared at the exact same time that Lincoln Reed came into being—at least, as far as anything I could find online.

His bookshelf brings me no answers. Frustrated, I pull out the chair to his desk and sit. When I see his laptop sitting there, temptation overwhelms me. It seems he’s always typing something on that thing. Maybe that’s where I can find answers.

I don’t even hesitate to open the laptop, though I get to the password screen and know it’s a dead end. Sure, I could try to hack it by stringing together likely passwords, but that just feels like a waste of time.

More determined than ever, I yank open the center drawer, instantly scouring it for hidden passwords. Nothing. I move to the large drawer to my right that’s labeled “Patients.” Lo and behold, there’s a stack of patient files. They’re alphabetized by last name, but after Thornefield, the next file is Zimmerman. Vaughn is nowhere to be found.

I’m not sure if I’m relieved or frustrated by him not having a file on me. I guess that makes sense, considering I was never technically his patient. Still, it’s frustrating to come up with nothing. I’m beginning to feel like a complete psychopath, rooting around his things.

That doesn’t stop me from moving to the next drawer on the opposite side of his desk, but it’s completely empty. Not even a speck of dust. I shut the door with more force than I mean to, causing it to slam. Cringing with guilt, I hear the rattle of books then the thud of something falling to the floor.

Panic squeezes my chest, and I look down to find the source of the sound, though it’s deathly quiet now. Opening the drawer again, I look but see nothing—until I notice the back wall is shorter than the length of the drawer.

“What the?—”

My heart begins to quicken as I push against the back wall of the drawer. It moves slightly, but I have to peer down to see if there’s a way to remove it. At the very top, I find a small hole. I stick my pinky through it and pull, revealing a variety of spiral notebooks and a black hard case.

My hand shakes as I reach for the items, knowing whatever I’m about to see will change my entire life. After a long, deep breath, I let it out slowly and open the notebook that sits at the top of the pile. I don’t expect the first thing I see to smack me right in the face.

It’s my name scribbled in Lincoln’s handwriting.

Evelyn Vaughn was always entranced by the synchronized fireflies.

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