Page 25 of A Love Like Candle Light

One hour into the search, it started pouring buckets. It didn’t affect the detectors, so we didn’t have to stop. Now I'm wet to my bones, freezing, and annoyed as hell.

I knew they wouldn't find anything. And even though he’ll never admit it, Rick knew it too. It didn't stop him from having the poor detector handlers search every centimeter of that lakeshore, though.

I pull my front door open and stop in the doorframe. It's quiet. Of course it is. What did I expect? For Kylie to hang around?

A part of me might have hoped she would.

Then again it would have made undressing in my hallway awkward. I toe out of my shoes, take off my pants, hang my jacket on a hook to my right, then add my shirt to the wet fabric pile on the ground. They can wait here. But I can’t wait for a damn shower.

By the time I get out, my skin is red from the warm water. Drying my hair with a towel, I trudge down my hallway to retrieve the pile of wet clothes when I see my phone blink with a voicemail. I let it play while I pick them up and find a rag to clean the puddle they left.

"Hey Erik, it's Cho.”

He’s a friend of mine from the police academy. While my ambition was always more to serve my community, his was to climb the career ladder to solve high-profile cases and make a name for himself. Two years ago, I ran into him again. We caught up over one or several drinks and the story of my sister’s disappearance slipped out.

The next day he called me and asked for more details that could help identify her, with the promise to keep an eye on unidentified bodies, missing person cases and his data bank for me.

So far, he called me twice. We both know it’s a long shot, but I’m running out of options. Could this be it?

"We've got a hit on someone with the same birthday and general features. Please drop by when you have a minute to take a look. This seems like a promising one, mate. Fingers crossed it’s her."

Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the dresser and let drops from my hair drip onto the wood.

I don't want to get my hopes up again, only to have them shattered. However if I lose hope, then who will keep searching for her?

My stomach rumbles. I have two choices: make myself a sad little omelet with the one egg I still have in my fridge, or throw on some dry clothes and get some lunch at Caleb's.

The choice is easy.

So I throw the pile of wet clothes into my bathroom, get dressed, grab a different jacket, and rush right back outside.

"Hey, Logan," I answer his call right as I pull out of my driveway.

"Hi Erik." He sounds way too chipper for a person dealing with death all the time. In his case, examining dead people. Or bones, like the ones we found. I’ve never had to talk to him on a professional level—after all this is the closest I ever got to dealing with a dead person case. However, his mom used to be in aunt Molly’s art class, so we know each other in passing. "I thought I'd call you with a little update."

"Shouldn't you call Rick with those? He’s the leading investigator." Raindrops hit my windshield as I navigate the gravelly road through the forest.

"I mean, I could, but he's an idiot.” I bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from laughing. “I'd rather talk to you first. Don't worry, I'll call him right after. With the info I have I’m fairly sure he’ll deem the case too boring and push it onto you anyway."

"Appreciate it, man. What do you have for me?" I stop at the sign, then turn onto the paved road leading to Wayward Hollow’s town center.

"You guys were right. The bones are of a female, and they're old." There's some rustling on his end of the line. “And I’d estimate she was about twenty-five to thirty-five when she died.”

"Thanks, that’s good to know. How old are we talking?"

"I don't have an exact number yet, but I sent some samples out for testing. I should have a more accurate number for you in the coming days. Now, my own estimation based on similar skeletons I've worked with..." He whistles through his teeth. "I'd say fifty years to a hundred and fifty years. So, no recent serial killer you need to catch."

"Well, that's a relief."

Thank God. I wouldn't have wanted the responsibility of catching a serial killer.

I turn into the street to Wayward Hollow's main square. School is out, and groups of kids are skipping down the walkway. Once they see me, they stop and wave, jumping with excitement. Instead of waving back I do one better and turn on the lights, earning at least twenty awed stares at my police car as I drive past them.

"And I'm sure you're not mad about not having to work with Mr. Sourass either." Right. Logan is still on the line.

"Hell no.” The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine. “When did you add mind reading to your résumé?" I chuckle and slow down, trying to find a parking space.

The joy of driving a police car is, I could stop wherever I want to. Who's going to cite me if I park right in front of Caleb's and pop in for a minute or two to get a coffee and a pastry?