Page 36 of A Love Like Candle Light

“Yes. No. I think so?”

She brushes past me to the kitchen. I follow her, careful to not step on any brushes ‘drying’ on the ground.

“Grab a cookie and tell me about it.” A gentle demand I can’t say ‘no’ to. Especially with her cookies involved.

“Cho called me with a potential lead on Lilith, but it went nowhere,” I explain and exhale a soul-deep sigh as I take a seat at her dining table. The plate with chocolate-chip cookies is right in the center. I grab one and watch her wrestle with her coffee machine.

I would have made my own coffee, but even if I wanted to, I know she wouldn’t let me handle her Coco. Which is what she calls her coffee machine.

“It’s just… this roller coaster of hope. It has me in a tough spot every single time.” I clear my throat and run my non-cookie holding fingers through my hair. “Every time I get my hopes up and thinking, it has to be her, right? The decades of searching have to pay off at some point and there must be some kind of reward for my stubbornness. And every single failure makes it harder to deal with the disappointment.”

“I know.” The clanking stops and she turns her head to give me a sad smile.

There’s an unspoken understanding between us. At this point, we’re both not so sure anymore if she’s alive. Every day I don’t have Cho on the phone asking me to come in to identify a corpse or skull reconstruction is a good day.

Nonetheless, it’s draining.

“Honey, if you need to take a break—”

I shake my head and pop the last piece of cookie into my mouth. “What’s there even to take a break from?” I ask with a full mouth, crossing my arms in front of my chest, extending my legs under the table as I chew. “Nothing is happening. Yet even as little as the search is progressing, it occupies a much too large piece of my brain.”

“Then maybe you need to occupy your brain otherwise.” She brings a pot of coffee to the table, then heads for the fridge to grab milk. Her kitchen is decorated for fall. Small pinecones and trinkets line her shelves, garlands with fake leaves draped over the fridge and along the window frame over her sink.

“I heard about the commotion in Wayward Hollow. Isn’t that a case you can dive into? Take a break from your Lilith search? God knows so little happens here, apart from the occasional salty ex and escaping cows or sheep. No wonder you spend so much time thinking about your sister.”

“I’m on the case. Kind of.” I pour both coffee into two mugs and she adds a splash of milk to both. “Rick is lead investigator for now.”

“For now?” Her eyebrow arches up.

“You know Rick.” She doesn’t. I told her about our last encounter in detail, though. “Very vocal about grabbing the cases he deems ‘high profile.’” I roll my eyes and reach for another cookie. “He can have them for all I care, but I’m pretty sure he’ll soon find out that this case is not very high profile at all.”

“And why’s that?” She takes a sip of her coffee, and I do the same.

“Because it’s likely a cold case.” I set my cup down again. “Logan called me. Even if it was a murder, which we don’t know yet, it’s so cold, the likeliness of witnesses or murderers being alive anymore is slim. Which means a whole lot of desk work, a whole lot of research, and a whole lot of reading.” I grin. “Something he’s not a fan of, according to guys from the search team he hired for the lake shore.”

“Well then, congrats on your new case.” She clinks her cup against mine and takes another sip.

She stares at me over the rim of her mug as she drinks. I know this stare. Nothing gets past aunt Molly. No need to voice her question, only her drilling gaze is enough for me to spill more beans.

“Also, I might have met someone I find… let’s call it interesting.” Her hand freezes halfway to setting the cup back down on the table.

“Erik!” She leans over the table with a face-splitting grin. “You met a woman? Tell me everything. Who is she?”

“Her name is Kylie,” I admit and keep turning the mug in my hands. “She’s the one who found the skeleton.”

“Ah, so a lakeside mansion owner.” She wiggles her eyebrows. I roll my eyes at her and take another sip of my coffee. “Tell me about her.”

“Smallish, blue eyes, brown hair—”

“Erik.” She picks up a cookie crumb and flicks it my way. “Don’t give me a victim description. Tell me about her.”

“She apologizes a lot.” I chuckle and nervously rub my neck. “It’s kind of adorable. At first glance she seems kind of shy. A little unsure of herself. But the more I’m getting to know her, the more confidence I see. Makes me want to coax it out of her.”

“Now we’re talking.” She leans her head on her hands, a dreamy look in her eyes.

“She’s got bangs that are slightly too long and fall into her eyes all the time. Yesterday she called me over, because apparently her house is haunted. She said her doors kept slamming closed and it felt like someone’s watching her.”

“I mean, you found bones on her land, so I don’t think a ghost is far-fetched.”