Page 18 of Fire Harbor
“No problem. That I can do. Just don’t go tossing out Rick Hackford’s name in this case, Linus. Not only is that weird, but it’ll just upset the Chief if you mention that name.”
“Good to know. I promise I won’t upset your boss if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Linus assured her.
With that declaration, Linus said his goodbyes and hung up. But he felt frustrated. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he had to be careful with his suspicions, especially considering Rick Hackford’s reputation. And despite his mother’s misgivings about the man, there was no real proof Hackford had done anything wrong during his traffic stops, other than proposition women he wanted to date. As disgusting as that kind of behavior was, something else didn’t sit right with him. The eerie feeling he had experienced earlier when he found the skull continued to gnaw at him.
Still unable to sleep, Linus decided to do some research on his own. He opened his laptop and began searching for any information regarding strange occurrences on or near the bridge. He scrolled through countless articles and forum posts, each describing eerie encounters and unexplained happenings.
About an hour in, Linus stumbled on an old newspaper article from ten years ago. It detailed the harrowing account of Sofia Diaz, Jimmy’s cousin, who had encountered a corrupt cop, or someone posing as a cop, on that very same bridge. Her attacker had tried to subdue her with chloroform first before bringing out a syringe to make sure she wouldn’t fight back. The article even mentioned the mysterious man who had intervened, saving Sofia from what would surely have been a bad ending.
No wonder Sofia had suffered a mental breakdown, Linus concluded when he reached the end of the story. The ordeal was a prime example of a disturbing narrow escape, an event that still impacted Sofia to this day.
Letting out a sigh, he turned his attention to Gabby Moreland, scouring through news articles, police reports, and online forums in search of any information that could shed light on what happened to her.
As he delved deeper, Linus discovered a pattern—a disturbing connection between Gabby’s disappearance and several other young women who had gone missing. Why had that not been mentioned during the segment with the news reporter? What other young women had disappeared? During what timeframe?
Linus intended to find out. But frustration mounted as he continued to hit dead ends. It was as if someone had purposely scrubbed any trace of the bridge’s dark history. But why?
Beyond exhausted now and nearing two in the morning, Linus snapped his laptop closed and crawled back into bed.
For the remainder of the night, always a light sleeper, he slept fitfully with visions of women in distress and shadowy figures lurking on the bridge or close to the harbor, the sound of eerie whispers echoing over the waves. Each time he tried to grasp a solid understanding of what was happening, the images slipped through his fingers like smoke.
When he did sleep, he dreamed of ancient, cobweb-filled tunnels and shadowy figures chasing him. Each time he thought he had escaped, the dark figures would catch up, their eyes burning with a malevolent light. There were times Linus would wake up in a panic, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
Even though he knew none of it was real and he would fall back to sleep, he kept seeing Gabby Moreland’s face. The same smiling face captured in the prominent photo all over the internet seemed engrained in his brain.
Linus took it as a sign. With a renewed sense of determination, he would get to the bottom of Gabby’s death. If the skull did belong to her, he would find out who had put her there. And if the skull belonged to one of the other missing women, he’d find out why they had disappeared, too.
Chapter Four
Daylight came too soon.
Linus woke at five-thirty to see Farley’s face nose to nose with his. He noticed the dog’s familiar tail-wagging and antsy dancing in place. Still half asleep, he dragged himself out of bed. After stumbling to pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, he led Farley through the kitchen and toward the back door.
While the dog took care of business outside, he headed for the coffee machine before realizing that he had forgotten to set the timer and prep the coffee the night before, something he routinely did.
He removed a filter from the cabinet, placed it in the basket, removed the bag of ground coffee, measured out the right amount, and pushed several buttons to get it going.
He scrubbed his hands down his face and waited. The lack of sleep, coupled with a handful of vivid nightmares, had left him drained, his mind foggy with fatigue. He had made progress with his searches, though. He’d discovered enough that he could share with Lake when he saw her at lunch—that is, if he didn’t get called into work.
When he heard Farley thump his body against the door, signaling he was ready to come back in, still barefoot, he went over and opened the door.
“You need a doggie door,” Lake muttered as she stood back to let Farley go in first. “Like today.”
Linus stared at Lake, who wore an ancient, faded denim jacket over a pink and purple flowered dress. She wore a pair of well-worn brown ankle boots with daisies stamped in the leather. “What are you doing here at this hour? Did you ride your bike?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I do have a car, you know. I saw Farley in the backyard, so I came around this way. I’ve always thought knocking on someone’s back door was somehow friendlier. Don’t you think?”
Without waiting for an answer, she followed the dog into the kitchen. She looked down at Linus’s bare feet before handing him a paper sack and a Thermos. “I brought breakfast—egg and cheese biscuits—I figured paramedics with a dog probably get up early. I wasn’t wrong.”
“I already have coffee brewing,” Linus stated.
“Not this kind,” she said with a grin, holding up the Thermos. “I use a dark roast, perfected by blending it with just the right amount of creamer. I wasn’t sure if you used sugar—I don’t—but you can adjust the taste according to how sweet you like it. Where are your cups?”
Linus frowned at her cheerful attitude this early in the day. He was also slightly befuddled and doing his best to keep up with her chatty dialogue. “I don’t take sugar in my coffee. The cups are over the coffeemaker.”
“Excellent.” She went over and took out two of his largest mugs.
“How long have you been up anyway?” he asked as he filled Farley’s dish with fresh water before scooping out dog food from a plastic bin.