“You’ve probably never heard of it. Frankly, it’s much more erotic than I’m used to.”
“But you read those bodice rippers all the time.”
Journey shrugged as they climbed into the Subaru. “True. This was a contemporary romance and I guess I’m just partial to stories set in the old west.”
“Ha!” Lou snorted. “I wonder why. What’s the title?”
“Lily’s Mirage.”
“By Sable Hunter. Yes! I’ve read the book. In fact, I own most of her stuff.” Lou sat up straight. “You know, I’d forgotten about this. I went to one of her book signings. She’s related to those McCoys we met at the fundraiser.”
“Who?” Journey asked as she pulled onto the street.
“She wasn’t there. I remember someone saying she was on a trip of some kind. Aw, shoot.” Lou thought for a minute, then snapped her fingers. “Avery. Avery McCoy. Her husband is Isaac.”
“Oh, really?” Journey laughed. “Thanks for the warning. Skye will probably be at the meeting and I wouldn’t want to offer any criticism about her sister-in-law’s work.”
“What? I liked the book. The setting was gorgeous, and the characters were believable. The science behind how they treated Lily’s brain tumor was spot-on. Cutting edge. Avery did some digging for that research.”
“Oh, I know. I enjoyed parts of it. What bothered me was that it was so unbelievable. There were ghosts and haunted paintings. She even hinted at reincarnation of all things.”
“Ha!” Lou laughed and laughed. “I can’t believe you, woman. You’re living the unbelievable.” She held up the printout of the ultrasound. “Need I remind you that the father of your baby is a time-traveler from the 19th century?”
“All right. All right.” Journey conceded the point. “I guess my criticism is unwarranted.”
“I’d say so.”
They were silent for a moment as they took in the scenery. They’d left the north Austin neighborhood where the doctor was located and were fast on their way to a restaurant called The Oasis on Lake Travis.
“How’s your research coming for your dissertation? Have you dug up any new vanishing stories?”
“Oh, I have.”
Journey couldn’t help but smile. Lou jumped on the topic like a dog on a bone. “In 1949, an ex-soldier named Tetford vanished from a crowded bus with 14 other passengers. They all testified that he was asleep in his seat. His destination, the Soldier’s Home in Bennington, Vermont, was the first stop. When they arrived, Tetford had vanished. His luggage was still onboard, but he wasn’t. No explanation, he’d just disappeared.”
Before Journey could respond to the account, Lou had gone on to the next one. “In 1809, a British diplomat named Benjamin Bathhurst vanished into thin air. He and a companion were returning to Hamburg after visiting the Austrian court. They stopped for dinner at an inn in the town of Perlberg. After the meal, they returned to the carriage and Bathhurst walked to the front of the carriage to inspect the horses. While the traveling companion watched his progress, the diplomat disappeared in front of his eyes. Never seen again.”
Lou inhaled a deep breath, giving her ample air to talk some more. “And in 1975, this couple was driving from New Jersey to New York City late one night via the Lincoln Tunnel. Just on the other side, the man pulled over to wipe the condensation from their windshield. The wife volunteered to do the back window so they could hurry. They both got out to do the job quickly and as the husband finished his window, he glanced back to his wife – and she was gone. There one second, gone the next.”
“Good gracious. Where do you find this stuff?”
“I’ve been astounded at the information that’s out there.” She held up her hand. “Last story, but the best one of all. You’ll see some similarities to Reno’s experience in this case.”
Journey felt the tears rising again, but she fought them back.
Lou was in fine form, deep in her element. “This one takes place at Stonehenge, of all places, in the year 1971. This was before they limited the public’s access to the sacred site. Anyway, this whole van full of hippies decided to camp out within the circle. They brought their drugs and their sleeping bags and, by all accounts, had a love-in. About two a.m. a severe thunderstorm blew in over the Salisbury Plain that put a damper on things, but they didn’t abandon their plans. A policeman, who happened to be driving by, reported seeing bright bolts of lightning in the area, striking trees and even the standing stones themselves. Another witness, a famer, said the entire ancient monument was lit by an eerie blue light so bright, it almost hurt to look at it. Both witnesses heard screams, and as they watched, the campers started to disappear, sinking into the earth as they faded away. When they rushed to the scene, there was nothing left in the standing circle except their camping equipment. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Yea. Crazy.” Journey swallowed back tears. “Lou, there’s something I haven’t told you.”
“What is it, honey?”
“I think I told you that Saul’s brother, Emory, grew up to be a writer.”
“You did, yes.”
“Well, I found his book and he wrote a story about Ela called The Wise Woman.”
“How neat.”
“Not neat.” She proceeded to tell how Emory wove the cowboy, Rio Grey, into his tales. “In The Wise Woman, he said Ela was murdered a few days after Rio disappeared.”
Lou tried to make sense of what she was saying. “So, you think it was more than a story. You think Ela was already dead when Reno went back on the full moon?”
“What if she was?” Journey knew her voice was shrill, but she couldn’t help it. “What if he can’t come back?”
Lou was a loss for words. “He’ll tell you in
