Page 90 of Firefly Effect

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.

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