As I closed the door, my phone began ringing. I glanced at the number and didn’t recognize it. Still, with new clients reaching out all the time, I accepted the call. “Marisa Stockton.”

The line crackled with silence on the other end.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

I glanced at the number. “This is Marisa Stockton.”

The line went dead.

My first thought was Alan. He’d tried to call, maybe even dialed the wrong number. I walked to my computer and typed in the number. There was no listing.

Hang-ups and wrong numbers weren’t unheard of. Still, they always left me restless, unsettled.

I was being ridiculous. Overreacting, like I did so well. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and shifted my attention to my daily schedule. Routine kept me grounded and focused. Today, there was some editing I could do, emails to read and respond to, but it was only a few hours of work, and I was ahead of schedule. Time enough for that later tonight.

Morning sunlight streamed through my window, drawing me to the view. It was going to be a beautiful day. One that would be wasted if I stayed inside. Without thinking, I moved to my old camera bag, thought very briefly about swapping it for the new one Jack and Jo-Jo had given me. It was fancy, upscale, something I would’ve dreamed about owning once. I checked my equipment, made sure my batteries were charged, and shouldered the old, familiar bag. Locking the door, I heard Alan moving about. It was nice to have another human on the floor.

Down the stairs and out the front door to my car, I fired up the engine, grateful that the early-morning chill had softened.

The route was new for this car, but all too familiar to me. I headed south and wove through the suburban side of the city toward Riverside Drive. As I turned down the winding road, tension rippled through my body.

When I’d been shooting in December, I’d driven myself to the point of exhaustion, splitting my time between here and whatever function I was hired to shoot. The mountain of work had gobbled up any extra time I might’ve had to brood. Each night I had fallen into bed completely drained. Finally, when I’d shot this place from every angle, I turned my back on it. I’d hoped I’d expelled the demons. What I realized now was that they’d not gone anywhere. They’d simply gone silent.

I parked in the public parking space and grabbed my camera bag. Locking the car, I headed toward the shore’s edge. When I’d been here last, the trees had lost their leaves and the landscape was stark and barren.