It was a hell of a night.
Muscle memory kicks in, and I compress the brake, preparing to turn into the gravel drive of the orchard.
The truck hasn’t even straightened out when my heart jumps into my throat and my body locks up, jerking the vehicle to an abrupt stop that makes Mercer’s head loll back against the seat with a soft thud.
There are lights.
Bright lights. Oscillating lights. Red and yellow lights. Red and blue lights.
There’s light Everywhere. Illumination on the barn and the storefront and the house. Everywhere it shouldn’t be.
It’s too early.
It’s too bright.
The colors are all wrong.
“What’s going on?” Mercer sits up straighter as I get my wits about me enough to accelerate through the parking lot.
A choked sob gets caught in my throat.
“What is all this?” He lurches forward, his tone full of urgency.
Why the fuck are there fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars all over my property?
I park haphazardly, positioning the truck close to the small crowd of people.
“Where is she?” I dash out of the truck without bothering to turn it off.
People are clustered everywhere. All uniformed.
Except Edna.
When I find her, I rush toward her. “What happened?”
She’s sobbing in the arms of a man dressed in fire rescue gear.
Fire. I pull up short and spin, looking for the flames.
I find none.
I assess the house. The barn. Look out toward the apiary.
There’s no smoke. No fire.
And yet…
The lights.
Goddamn these fucking lights.
“Noah.” Edna’s voice cracks as she flings her fragile body into my arms. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
A handful of uniformed officers. The fire chief. When the flashing lights bounce off his crisp white shirt, they’re even more intense.
Every person leads with condolences.
Every one of them telling me how sorry they are for my loss.
