Page 22 of Fire Harbor
“Why not?”
“Because so far this is nothing but speculation, nothing more. I need to do more digging before going full throttle into serial killer territory. You don’t just toss out words like serial killer without some sort of proof.”
He thought about his call to Eastlyn and understood now why Lake had told him not to say anything to Brent. “You don’t want your only child looking like an idiot with the cops, do you? Plus, the media would have a field day with that kind of rumor. I’d probably lose my job with the county. Understand? This is a big deal. Promise me you won’t say a word about this to anyone.”
“Oh, all right. But what if Martha brings it up? She’s not stupid. She watches the news, too, you know.”
“Mom, if you want me to bring Lake over for dinner, do not mention serial killers to Martha. Got it?”
“Fine, no serial killer talk.” She narrowed her eyes at him and drilled a hole in his chest with her finger. “But you should know I’ll be expecting an update on this thing you have going on with Lake.” She held up a hand when he started to protest. “Don’t even suggest I butt out. You’re my son and I love you. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t have a vested interest in your love life? This time around, I’m not sitting on the sidelines. I’ll meddle just enough to make sure you’re happy before I die. If grandkids should come along in the process, all the better. Do we understand each other?”
“Okay. You can meddle a little but don’t interfere.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Discreet is my middle name.”
Linus raised an eyebrow not liking the sound of that at all. “Discreet might not be the first word that comes to mind when I think of you.”
She waved off his comment with a dismissive gesture. “Details, details.”
“Seriously, Mom, remember that Lake and I are taking things slow. We’re still figuring things out.” He paused for a moment, just thinking about Lake. “But I’ll tell you one thing, Mom. She’s something special. I’ve never met anyone like her before.”
“Oh, I can see a sparkle in your eyes that hasn’t been there before now. But what is it about your generation that wants to take things so slow?”
“Don’t start,” Linus cautioned.
“Yes, but you’re either jumping into bed together too soon or moving at a snail’s pace. There’s no in-between. At the rate you’re going, I’ll never live long enough to see a single grandchild.”
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Annette ignored the question. As she cracked the eggs into a bowl and began whisking them vigorously, she decided she needed to feel Lake out in person and see if this sparkle was mutual. She made a mental note to stop by the library sooner rather than later.
She glanced at Linus sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop. As she poured the eggs into a skillet, she decided she had a sneakier plan. If these two could put their heads together to solve several murders, they could certainly forge a deeper bond. And that she could definitely facilitate.
Chapter Five
If Lake had known what Annette had in mind, it might have put her off Linus for good. But there was a benefit to being unaware. She went about her morning as usual. She fed the dogs, made more coffee for her Thermos, and checked the weather forecast. It was supposed to rain all day. That meant two things. One, she couldn’t ride her bike to work. And two, the picnic would need to be moved to an inside location. Not a problem. They could eat their lunch inside the boathouse overlooking the harbor.
After putting the finishing touches on the egg salad, she got out the wheat bread. She layered the mixture into generous heaps two inches thick before wrapping the sandwiches in cloth napkins, then adding them to her lunch box, along with two large pickles, which she put in plastic containers.
From a cabinet, she removed another Thermos, this one plaid and taller, and filled it with sweet tea. As she packed everything into a large, well-worn tote bag, the first drops of rain pelted against the windowpane. Any good gardener worth their salt never minded a nice rain shower. Lake was no exception. She went to the window and peered out at her back garden. The newly planted seedlings in the raised beds might take a beating, but she was sure the more established plants like kale and squash would be fine.
She didn’t mind rainy days like today. She would adjust to the weather.
When it was pouring out, she had to rely on her 2004 silver VW Beetle to get her around town. The car had ninety-eight thousand miles on it, most of which came from all the trips she’d made back and forth to campus at UC Santa Cruz as a student. For four years as an undergraduate who lived at home instead of the dorm, she made the fifty-minute commute to get there, sometimes seven days a week. She knew that route so well that it hadn’t taken long before the trip became monotonous. Even more so during the additional five years it took to get her Ph.D. By that time, she’d spent seven years making that trip twice a day. It was no wonder she avoided going to Santa Cruz unless it was absolutely necessary. If she couldn’t buy what she needed in Pelican Pointe, she either ordered it online or went to San Sebastian, the neighboring town to the east.
Now, as she stood in the kitchen, she realized that making that trip across the bridge, especially at night, was one of the reasons she made up excuses not to go to Santa Cruz. She had friends who still lived there from college. But until this moment, she hadn’t analyzed why she kept turning down their numerous dinner invitations or calls from friends asking her to meet up for drinks.
As she went to the entryway to fetch her umbrella, her mind swirled with memories and unspoken fears. The thought of driving across that bridge in the dark now made her nervous. It made her stomach flop, yet she couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly why.
Sure, she’d had her scary moments crossing that bridge, times she thought she’d spotted a man lurking in the woods. Other times, she’d seen the ghostly Scott standing at the bridge as if keeping guard. During those late-night encounters, she’d always step on the gas, trying to hurry across to the other side.
As she checked her reflection in the wide, full-length mirror, she saw a woman who had built walls around herself. Walls constructed out of familiarity and routine, walls that shielded her from a hurtful past, from a mother who hadn’t loved her enough to stick around, who had not so much as written a letter of concern for decades.
In her heart, Lake knew she tended to keep people—friends, colleagues, even boyfriends—at arm’s length. Was it really fear of a bridge that kept her grounded in Pelican Pointe, or was she uncomfortable stepping outside the confines of anything that made her feel closer to anyone else?
She couldn’t say that about Linus. His image popped into her head and brought a smile to her lips. He’d been so caught off guard by her dropping in that he’d looked befuddled. Funny how she’d never seen him baffled or confused until last night when she’d kissed him. She wasn’t pushing him away. At least, not yet.
The rain continued to patter against the old house as her thoughts turned inward. But one glance at her watch told her it was time to stop this moody pity party and get to work. As she dashed into the sunroom to gather her things and say goodbye to Jack and Scout, she decided it was time to confront her fears head-on. Determined to break free from her self-imposed limitations, Lake decided she would help Linus pursue answers. She would take new risks. She would venture beyond the confines of the cocoon she’d crafted to keep her heart safe. She had spent years within the safety of her routine, clinging to the familiar like a lifeline. If Linus wanted to jump into a mystery, she’d do her part.