to him. "Anyway, it seems every twenty years, the fish population drops significantly â a good seventy to eighty percent."
He raised a golden eyebrow. "That is strange."
"At first I attributed the drop to some sort of climate change, or maybe a bad winter season, but changes in the weather records didn't correspond with the drops in fish population."
Two large glasses clinked on the table, making them both jerk up. "Goodness me, looks like you two've seen a ghost." The hostess smiled and pushed their drinks to them. "Now, what'll it be?"
Flynn turned toward the woman. "I'll have the swordfish."
Somehow drinks had turned into a full-fledged dinner date. Gail hadn't even had a chance to go through her menu. "I'll have the other special, what was it?"
The woman scribbled something on her pad. "Clam chowder."
"Right. I'll have that."
They both waited in silence for the hostess to leave. The minute her back turned, Flynn was all over it. "And?"
"And that's it. I have no explainable reason for a drop of that kind."
Flynn crossed his arms and leaned back. "I do."
Gail wove her fingers together on the table. Was she going to regret this? "Okay, let's hear it."
"Nessie wakes up to feed every twenty years."
Gail widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, is that right?"
"Seriously, Gail."
"Okay, okay. I'm listening."
"That's when all the most significant sightings are. Take the nineteen thirty-four picture I was talking about on the cruise. Fast forward to nineteen fifty-five when Peter McNab photographed Nessie in front of Urquhart Castle."
"Yes, but didn't he tell a local resident those were bales of hay covered with tarps?"
Flynn raised a finger. "Only for fear of ridicule. Then you have the nineteen seventy-seven Anthony Nicol Shields photo."
Gail knew where this was headed. The evidence was coming together. Yet, she couldn't deny her skeptical reasoning streak and the true purpose why she was there. "What about the nineteen nineties? I don't remember any pictures from that time."
"The famous sonar scan conducted by the research crew at L-PIB happened in nineteen ninety-one."
"That's not exactly twenty years."
"Does the timing correspond to the drops in fish population?"
Gail took a sip of her beer. The cool liquid stung her mouth and flowed down her throat to warm her belly. "I'd have to go back and check, but it does seem to match, yes."
Flynn shook his fork in the air and raised an eyebrow. "That would be some elaborate coincidence."
Gail smiled. "What are you trying to say? That roughly twenty years from nineteen ninety-one brings us to two thousand and thirteen? To today?"
Flynn's eyes sparkled. "She's due."
Chapter Nine
Circumstances
Two steaming entrees arrived just as Flynn spoke the word due . The hostess leaned over, placing each one in front of them with a smile. She gave Flynn a curious look but didn't ask who exactly was due. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No, ma'am." Flynn smoothed things over with a charming smile. "This looks fantastic."
The hostess turned to Gail. "You, missy?"
"No thanks. I'm good." Her clam chowder looked a little murky for her tastes, reminding her of Loch Ness, as though she didn't have enough reminders already.
The hostess handed them extra napkins. "I'll be at the bar if you need me."
Gail's stomach flipped, and she wasn't sure if it was the food or the way the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Surely there was a logical explanation, something less farfetched than a mythical, hibernating beast.
"I'm sorry, Gail. I don't mean to upset you." Flynn reached out and touched her hand briefly. "I'm just trying to make sense of it all."
Gail wiped her forehead with a napkin and chugged her beer. Did she look that upset? "I'm fine."
"No, there's something wrong, and I think your unease goes deeper than a scientist lacking logical answers."
She swirled her spoon around in her clam chowder. Part of her wanted to run out of the tavern so she'd
He raised a golden eyebrow. "That is strange."
"At first I attributed the drop to some sort of climate change, or maybe a bad winter season, but changes in the weather records didn't correspond with the drops in fish population."
Two large glasses clinked on the table, making them both jerk up. "Goodness me, looks like you two've seen a ghost." The hostess smiled and pushed their drinks to them. "Now, what'll it be?"
Flynn turned toward the woman. "I'll have the swordfish."
Somehow drinks had turned into a full-fledged dinner date. Gail hadn't even had a chance to go through her menu. "I'll have the other special, what was it?"
The woman scribbled something on her pad. "Clam chowder."
"Right. I'll have that."
They both waited in silence for the hostess to leave. The minute her back turned, Flynn was all over it. "And?"
"And that's it. I have no explainable reason for a drop of that kind."
Flynn crossed his arms and leaned back. "I do."
Gail wove her fingers together on the table. Was she going to regret this? "Okay, let's hear it."
"Nessie wakes up to feed every twenty years."
Gail widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Oh, is that right?"
"Seriously, Gail."
"Okay, okay. I'm listening."
"That's when all the most significant sightings are. Take the nineteen thirty-four picture I was talking about on the cruise. Fast forward to nineteen fifty-five when Peter McNab photographed Nessie in front of Urquhart Castle."
"Yes, but didn't he tell a local resident those were bales of hay covered with tarps?"
Flynn raised a finger. "Only for fear of ridicule. Then you have the nineteen seventy-seven Anthony Nicol Shields photo."
Gail knew where this was headed. The evidence was coming together. Yet, she couldn't deny her skeptical reasoning streak and the true purpose why she was there. "What about the nineteen nineties? I don't remember any pictures from that time."
"The famous sonar scan conducted by the research crew at L-PIB happened in nineteen ninety-one."
"That's not exactly twenty years."
"Does the timing correspond to the drops in fish population?"
Gail took a sip of her beer. The cool liquid stung her mouth and flowed down her throat to warm her belly. "I'd have to go back and check, but it does seem to match, yes."
Flynn shook his fork in the air and raised an eyebrow. "That would be some elaborate coincidence."
Gail smiled. "What are you trying to say? That roughly twenty years from nineteen ninety-one brings us to two thousand and thirteen? To today?"
Flynn's eyes sparkled. "She's due."
Chapter Nine
Circumstances
Two steaming entrees arrived just as Flynn spoke the word due . The hostess leaned over, placing each one in front of them with a smile. She gave Flynn a curious look but didn't ask who exactly was due. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"No, ma'am." Flynn smoothed things over with a charming smile. "This looks fantastic."
The hostess turned to Gail. "You, missy?"
"No thanks. I'm good." Her clam chowder looked a little murky for her tastes, reminding her of Loch Ness, as though she didn't have enough reminders already.
The hostess handed them extra napkins. "I'll be at the bar if you need me."
Gail's stomach flipped, and she wasn't sure if it was the food or the way the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. Surely there was a logical explanation, something less farfetched than a mythical, hibernating beast.
"I'm sorry, Gail. I don't mean to upset you." Flynn reached out and touched her hand briefly. "I'm just trying to make sense of it all."
Gail wiped her forehead with a napkin and chugged her beer. Did she look that upset? "I'm fine."
"No, there's something wrong, and I think your unease goes deeper than a scientist lacking logical answers."
She swirled her spoon around in her clam chowder. Part of her wanted to run out of the tavern so she'd
Similar Books
