Page 30 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)

The world seemed colder the moment I closed the door behind me.

I stilled. A muffled gloom lay over the earth, and I strained to hear anything peculiar but came up empty.

It occurred to me that maybe it was a problem with the hearing aids, so I adjusted them, raising the volume a little with a tap of my finger, but … nothing.

There was a clear view of the malfunctioning camera from the door, and from where I stood, it seemed fine.

But with feline precision, I walked toward it, keeping my hand positioned on the holstered gun.

The tiny red dot on its front indicated it was on and recording, pointed right at me, and I wondered if, at any time, that little light had turned off.

Was it recording now, and the signal between it and the computer had gotten disrupted somehow?

Hmm …

With a hasty sweep of my gaze around the surrounding dark, I concluded with flimsy certainty that nobody was here. It was just me, alone, in the middle of an old cemetery on the outskirts of Salem.

And Melanie. She’s here too.

A smile tugged at my lips as an idea popped into my mind. I pulled out my phone and began to tap out a quick message to her.

Me: Hey, look at the computer screen. Is the video working again? Or is it all scrambled still?

I sent it and waited, watching as the message went from Delivered to Read .

Watching as the little dots jumped into action, indicating she was typing.

My eyes were glued to the screen when the sound of a branch snapping in the near distance drew my attention away.

I startled, glancing up from the phone to look in the direction from where the sound had come, my hand once again on the grip of the gun.

“Is someone there?” I called out, my voice reflecting a calm I didn’t feel. “This is security, and I am armed. If there is someone out there, make yourself known.”

As expected, there was no reply.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and with a deep breath, I took a quick glance at the screen to read Melanie’s message.

Melanie: Still can’t see anything. Are you okay out there?

Me: I think so. I’ll be back in a sec.

I pocketed the phone, narrowing my eyes at the camera with its little red dot, aimed toward me.

Taunting me with the illusion that it was working normally when, clearly, it wasn’t.

It was obvious something was interfering with the signal, but what ?

In the years that I’d been working here, only once had something like this happened, that I could recall, and that was …

A shiver trailed down my spine as I turned on my heel to face the office, relieved to not find the apparition I’d expected to see instead.

It was impossible to work in a cemetery and not believe in wandering spirits, lingering souls …

ghosts … whatever you wanted to call them.

I’d experienced my fair share of strange, unexplainable happenings.

A mysterious shadow moving from the corner of my eye.

A bodyless whisper. Odd mementos left here and there.

It didn’t bother me—these little minor nothings from beyond the veil—but then again, they were never meant for me .

Tipping my head, I peered into the shadowy dark and whispered, “Who’s there?” immediately feeling foolish and hoping they wouldn’t answer.

It could’ve been a myriad of people. I’d lost so many. Friends. My mother.

Laura .

A thought struck me then that maybe it was Laura.

Maybe this was her expressing her distaste for my abrupt forgetfulness on the ten-year anniversary of her death.

Maybe she didn’t like this woman who’d returned to my life, just as she had once upon a time.

Maybe she didn’t like that a part of my heart longed to move forward with Melanie instead of lingering in the past with her.

Fuck , I thought, staring into nothing and wiping my palm over my mouth and chin. What was I supposed to do with this? What if it truly was my late wife, expressing her unhappiness? Was it fair to expect me to just … stop my heart from longing at the request of a woman who wasn’t even here?

“I’m being stupid,” I whispered to myself, as if that alone could stop this stream of questions from pelting me one by one until my shoulders sagged with helplessness and defeat.

With a deep breath, I walked toward the office, knowing there wasn’t anything for me to accomplish out here, when a feathery plume of smoke wafted through the air before my eyes.

It floated along, as if on a breeze I couldn’t feel, and when it hit my nostrils, I inhaled the unmistakable scent of cigarettes.

Melanie must be smoking in there , I thought, finding my smile, and I moved quicker, suddenly needing to light up myself and untangle my nerves.

But when I opened the door and found her sitting in my chair, Lido’s head on her lap, there wasn’t a cigarette to be found.

“Were you just smoking?” I asked, swinging my gaze around the office, like she might’ve hidden it away the very second before I came in.

“No,” she replied, confusion in her tone. “But look”—she swiveled in the chair and pointed at the screen—“it’s working again.”