“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
She clears her throat, crosses and then uncrosses her legs. “Dear Sarah. Your letter really touched my soul. I’m sorry for your losses and the challenges you’ve faced this last year.” She looks up. “The next part is personal, but he ends the letter with, ‘Life’s next second chance is waiting for you. It’s called Tomorrow, Firefly.’”
“It’s nice.”
“Sounds like an internet meme, but it really meant something to me. Because of that, I picked myself up. I got my real estate license, and I began building a really nice career. His words helped me. He made me realize I was a fighter.”
“And you kept writing him?”
“Yeah. He became a friend. A confidant.”
“When did you first hear about the Fireflies?”
She smiles. “Not until last year, when that woman in Montana died. The press called her a Firefly. I didn’t realize Elijah had been writing to twelve or thirteen different women.”
“There were thirteen in total. How do you feel about the others?”
“It made sense that there would be other women who were drawn to him. And I understood he needed more contact with the outside world than I could give.” Her smile widens a fraction. “I like to think, though, that I was his favorite, and that no matter what, we would always be connected.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes, I do.”
CHAPTER TEN
Missoula, Montana
Friday, August 20
6:15 a.m.
Whatever plans Ann had for an early-morning run were canceled as soon as her phone alarm buzzed and she sat up. Her stomach rolled, her head pounded behind her left eye, and her mouth felt like she had eaten a sock. Finishing up the bottle of wine had not been a genius move.
Her first impulse was to push through the sickness and check on Nate. And then she remembered he was camping. She was alone. There was no agenda.
She could fall back to sleep, but when she eased back against the pillows, her head pounded harder, and the bed swirled as the drumbeat of recrimination thudded under her temples. The wine had allowed her to doze, but it was a restless, uneasy sleep filled with images of Elijah.
Drawing in a breath, she forced herself up off the mattress and moved into the bathroom, where she grabbed aspirin, which she swallowed dry. The next fifteen minutes became a study in will as she showered, dressed, and applied some makeup to brighten her pale complexion.
Feeling a little more human, she went into the kitchen and made coffee. The machine had barely gurgled out a half pot when she poured the first cup and drank. “Welcome back from the dark side, Ann,” she muttered.
As she refilled her cup, her phone chimed with a text.
Bryce: The Kansas and Knoxville files arrived. I’ll be in Helena today.
It was a two-hour drive to the state capital. She checked her watch. If she left now, she could be in Bryce’s office by nine. That would give her a full day to review the cases. She did not need him present—in fact, it would be better if he left her alone to her thoughts in a quiet conference room stocked with more coffee. She checked her calendar. Her bed frame, along with several carpets, was scheduled to arrive by nine. As tempted as she was to have the delivery person leave them on the front porch, she needed to wait.
Ann: I can be in your office by noon.
Bryce: Here all day. If I’m in a meeting, have them page me.
Ann: See you then.
Bryce: Roger.
The chance that the other crimes back east were related to the Montana cases was slim. But a small chance was greater than none.
Elijah sat behind the registrar’s desk, ready to face the endless mundane tasks that awaited him. Most would be problems that could have been avoided with careful planning beyond the next five minutes. But no one planned, so he ended up with harried students who believed he could magically fix incomplete schedules, bestow missed credits needed for graduation, or create spots in classes filled two weeks ago.
He had taken the volunteer job not to help his clueless fellow students, but to be close to Ann. He had kept his distance this last year for strategic reasons. Not only did he have to deal with the state and get his settlement, but it always took time for media attention to die down. Both goals had now been accomplished, so it was time to reassert himself and remind her the time for reckoning had arrived.
He sensed a woman approach his desk. She stood patiently for a second before she began to shift back and forth on her feet. He did not raise his gaze immediately, denying her immediate gratification.
Finally, he looked up, knowing impatience snapped in his gaze. She was midsize, lean with light-brown hair. She was older than the average student, maybe late twenties. “May I help you?”
Her stare lingered on him, and a quiet warning rang in the back of his head. Was she a reporter or a cop, or a woman who was curious about his story?
She held up the campus brochure. “I’d like to audit a class.”
“Audit?”
“I’m dipping my toe back into academics. Thought an audited class would knock the rust off my brain cells.”
“What kind of class do you want to take?”
“Intro to Forensic Psychology. Dr. Ann Bailey teaches it.”
His interest was piqued. “You know Dr. Bailey?”
“I’m actually working for her. I have this cleaning business, and I’m getting her Beech Street house ready to go on the market. By the way, my name is Maura Ralston.”
He was not surprised that Ann was selling, and he took it as a good sign. She was moving on with her life.
Elijah studied the woman more closely. She had a wide smile, a cute face, and her long brown hair had streaks with blond highlights. Her floral scent reminded him vaguely of Ann. She looked almost familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
“Maura, the class is full,” he said. “Dr. Bailey is a popular teacher, and this is the first time she’s taught a freshman class in five or six years.”
“Damn. Does she teach anything else?”
“We have other classes like that. I know the professors, and they’re decent instructors.”
“I’m sure they are. I really liked talking with Ann yesterday.”
He leaned forward. “She teaches a graduate class, but that’s not the place to start if you’re rusty.”
“No, I suppose not.” She grinned. “Would I be considered officially enrolled if I’m auditing? I won’t take the tests or write papers. I want to hear the lectures and do as many of the readings as I can. Like I said, knocking the rust off the brain.”
“Sorry, the school limits how many bodies can be in a room at one time.”
“But not everyone always shows up all the time.”
“True.” The woman knew how to work the angles. “But I still can’t let you in the class.”
She shoved out an impatient sigh. “Well, it was worth a try. If I get enough work in town, I might be here next semester.” She fished a card from her fringed purse. “And in case anyone is asking, I’m a crackerjack cleaning lady. No job too big or too small.”
“I’ve seen your flyers around.”
“The university is a target market.”