to the world.
Ann studied Nate’s smile and realized it telegraphed the youthful joy that had been missing the last year. He was going to be okay. So was she.
As she turned to go back inside, she glanced down to the card that had fluttered out when she had removed her phone. She picked it up and saw Paul Thompson’s name, phone number, and the scrawled address of his motel.
Thompson was on a fishing expedition, too. And the bait he was using was her darkest secret.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Missoula, Montana
Sunday, August 22
2:15 p.m.
Ann grabbed her purse and decided it was time to find Elijah. If he had leaked or suggested the truth to one of his groupies, she wanted to know about it. A quick address search, and she realized he was living blocks away. Paul Thompson might be the least of her problems. She drove the blocks separating their homes. She parked, walked up to the front door, and knocked.
Christ, he had to know the truth.
A full thirty seconds passed before the door opened. Elijah stood with a blue-tipped paintbrush in his hands and looking a little annoyed by the interruption. When he saw it was her, his expression turned curious.
“Ann, did you bring me a welcome basket?” he asked.
“I heard you’d moved in.” Her heart pummeled against her ribs, slamming blood through her arteries.
“Would you like to come inside? Still in the midst of decorating. I could have hired someone, but I really don’t like strangers in my home.”
She ignored the small talk. “There’s a reporter in town. His name is Paul Thompson.”
“He’s left me messages,” Elijah said warily.
“He’s digging into Clarke’s and your pasts.”
Elijah frowned. “I gathered as much. Why?”
“He’s doing a podcast, he says. He wants the world to know your story.”
He looked amused. “Who on the planet doesn’t?”
“Apparently, the bare facts aren’t enough. He wants a blow by blow.”
“Why do you care, Ann? I’ve heard you’ve become pretty expert at dodging guys like him.”
“This one is talking to your Fireflies.”
“I’m sure they all have a story to tell. They crave fame. It’s one of the unhealthy reasons why they were attached to me.”
“When’s the last time you were in contact with Sarah Cameron?” she asked.
“She was from Tennessee, as I remember.”
A sense of vindication rushed her. His simple answer had validated her working theory about the victims. “So, she was a Firefly?”
He arched a brow. “That’s why you’re asking about her, right?”
“What about Dana Riley? Did she contact you lately?”
“Dana?” He seemed to riffle quickly through his memory. “Tall, light-brown hair. Looked a little like you, though not as smart.”
Dana had also been a Firefly. “Have you communicated with her lately?”
“No. I haven’t connected with any of my Fireflies since I was released from prison.”
“None tried to track you down?”
His head cocked. “Why is that any of your business?”
“I’m looking for Dana,” she lied.
“Why? Is she bothering you?” he asked carefully.
“No, I’m trying to find her.” She had not come prepared with a better lie and realized she could quickly back herself into a corner. Elijah had always been perceptive, and ten years in prison had honed that radar.
He slowly shook his head as his eyes narrowed. He did not believe her, but for whatever reason, he played along. “The final letter I had from Dana was almost a year ago. She was one of my most prolific correspondents. I think one hundred and two letters from her, if I remember. She was funny, moderately smart, and a welcome distraction.”
“Are there any other Fireflies in the area?”
“Why the sudden interest in the Fireflies? Who cares if Thompson talks to them? His story will soon be forgotten. Unless you’re jealous.”
She ignored the suggestion. “Did you ever talk to your Fireflies about me?”
“I might have mentioned you.” A smile teased the edges of his lips. “I was pretty angry with you after the trial.”
“Who else did you tell about me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You have a photographic memory.”
“Then I guess I do remember. But I’m not going to tell all my secrets until you tell me yours.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. “This was a mistake. I should not be talking to you.”
As she turned to leave, he said, “There was a homicide near town on Tuesday. I hear the body was burned.” He studied her face closely. “Is the victim Dana?”
“No, it wasn’t Dana.”
“There was also a homicide in Helena in July. I hear that body was also burned. Was that one Dana?”
“How do you know this?”
“Once you’ve been branded