“You have to tell him.”

“Do I though? I mean…do I?” Her voice went up an octave on the last do I?

He stared at her, hard. “Do not get me on the bad side of a Viking. If he belts his own girlfriend, no telling what he’ll do to me.”

“That’s a good point,” she said. “And yet, I’m still not calling him.” She stared at her phone like she wasn’t sure what it was or where it had come from.

He cleared his throat pointedly. She got the message.

“Fine. I’m calling him.” She called him. “Hello, Sir.”

He waited, curious enough to eavesdrop.

“Ah…long story,” Nora said. “I’m at my dungeon right now. I had something weird happen tonight. I didn’t feel like staying at home.” Pause. “No, Kingsley wasn’t involved this time.” Pause again. “Please. Cyrus would probably appreciate that.” Pause. “Yeah, he’s here. Keeping me company. Although I think he regrets it.”

Cyrus nodded to make her smile. He was glad to see it worked.

“Okay, love you, too, Sir. See you soon.”

Nora hung up the call.

“You’re off the hook,” Nora said. “He’s coming over.”

“Ah, that’s good. I’ll stay until he gets here.”

“I appreciate that,” she said and smiled. “But he’s probably going to tell me I have to stop working on the case with you.”

“It’s all right. I’ll miss your help, but I’ll figure it out. When I know something, I’ll let you know.”

“Fun while it lasted. Pleasure working with you, Mr. Tremont.” She held out her hand and they shook.

“Yeah, same, Mistress Nora.”

He left her alone in her dungeon and sat in the armchair, waiting for the Viking to arrive. He closed his eyes, thinking of dozing off. While his body was bone tired, his mind wouldn’t let him rest.

Instead of sleeping, he went to the river. He didn’t mean to, but his mind took him there of its own will. Ever since he’d seen Father Ike with that gun, he’d stayed back, afraid of what he’d see if he went again. But now he couldn’t stop the feet in his mind finding the path to his soul, and up and over the rise he found a night river flowing easy and sweet. Lightning bugs skimmed the surface, flashing their double lights—one true, one reflection. The full white moon rose over the tree tops, and he saw something moving under the water, something alive. He followed it with his eyes, waiting for it to surface. It dove deep and the water stilled.

From the opposite direction, he saw someone swimming toward where he stood on a flat stone that hung over the river’s edge.

The swimmer rose up in the shallow end near the bank.

“Nora? What are you doing?”

She was fully dressed in the clothes she’d been wearing tonight—corset and jeans—but soaking wet.

“Water’s nice tonight,” she said. “Want to swim?”

“You better get out. Something’s in the water.”

“Only fish,” she said. “I’m not afraid of—”