Page 84 of Firefly Effect

She leans back slightly. “Do you think it was the Firefly Man who left that note in my bar?”

“Whoever wrote it certainly wanted you to think so.” There’s no point in lying now. I search her eyes, worried what this next bit of information might do to her. “Which leads me to wonder…”

Evie looks pale as she begins to realize what I’m saying. “W-what?”

“If the killer wrote that note and that firefly map is accurately assuming the killer is returning to the original kill site, maybe the Firefly Man isn’t just returning here…maybe he lives right here in Bryson City.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

EVELYN

The next week is a whirlwind. I’m a robot before, during, and after work. My staff, somehow, just knows to pick up the pieces. They don’t ask too many questions, and part of me wonders if they assume Lincoln and I broke up… not that we were ever officially together.

He hasn’t come by like he used to, thanks to my request that he give me some time. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t parked his car outside of Firefly after Lucy goes to bed, all to watch over my building until five in the morning. Then he returns home, gets Lucy ready for school, works, and comes back for his nighttime shift.

I refuse to let him in. I’m still grappling with his lie. Still trying to make sense of the fact that he—Foster—has been out there the whole time while I’ve been scouring the internet for any sign of him. In a way, I’m angry that he’s let fourteen years go by without confronting me. Maybe a little embarrassed too. I was the closest link he had to Carley after his family rejected him, yet he never came to check on me. Never wanted to know how I was doing.

Foster and Lincoln are beginning to blur into the same person, making the man I fell for so hard and fast into a complete stranger. How does that happen?And how do I get past this? Or worse, do I get past this? I have so many questions but no one to help me find the answers. I won’t go to Lincoln, and I still can’t get ahold of J.D.

Frustration rushes through me as I look at the time, knowing what I must do. It’s four in the evening on Thursday. That’s three hours until Kyle’s shift ends, giving me just enough time.

After letting Kyle know I’ll be back, I skip out the front door and quickly tap into my rideshare app. Ten minutes later, I pull up to J.D.'s driveway, but no cars are parked in the drive. I let my driver leave anyway, determined to wait as long as I need to. I’m not leaving until I speak to him.

I approach the front door. When I raise my fist to knock, I stop myself, knowing that I’m risking a repeat of the events of last time, that Gena will open the door and turn me away. There needs to be another way to get to J.D.

“Come to the back,” a male voice whispers.

My heart catches in my throat and I look around, trying to find the owner of the voice.

“J.D.?” I ask, still searching the open space around me.

“He’s watching you.” Another whisper, this one more haunting than the first.

I look behind me and notice the same faded black car across the street. Holy shit, someone is watching me.

“We don’t have much time,” the voice says.

Tearing my eyes from the black car, my heart begins to beat fast. I should run—just take off at a sprint and get the hell out of here. But while I know spending one more second here is only sending me into a deep end when I’ve never learned to swim, I’m so desperate for a chance to speak with J.D. that I don’t listen to my own warnings.

A stone path circles the house, overgrowth sticking up between the rocks. I follow it blindly, my mission to see J.D. surpassing any regard for my safety.

At the back of the house, nothing is fenced in. It’s just an acre or so of land and woods surrounding it. A chill snakes up my spine as I turn back to the house.

“He can’t know we’re talking,” whispers the same voice from the front of the house. It seems to be coming from a screened window.

The lump in my throat is leaving little room to swallow. “W-who?” As if I need confirmation. He could only be talking about one person.

“Why are you here, Evelyn?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, finally recognizing the familiarity of the voice, even in a whisper. J.D. was my only comfort for so many years, besides Patrick. “I need to talk to you,” I whisper back. “There’s no one who understands me like you do.”

“What about Doctor Reed?”

I let out a shaky breath. “You mean Foster Pruitt?”

Silence fills the air. “I’m sorry, what?” J.D.’s voice rises slightly.

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