Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

GiB - 5

One of the things Alex liked about George what that he was always asking about Bold Peak, especially the town's history. That night, while he drove away from the bar with U2 still playing, he pointed at the hill between the last houses to the east and Baker Lake Road, its round top raising without trees.

"I heard the town was named after it," he said.

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Some pioneer of old thought it looked like a hairless head and called it Bald Peak. But when the town was officially founded and entered the county records, somebody misspelled the name and wrote Bold instead of Bald."

"That's not what Betty told me when I was staying at her B&B, back when I was still looking for a house."

"Oh, that's because visitors get another story, as honorable as inaccurate."

"She told me something about French parties raiding the area."

"Yeah, the tale about the pioneers making an epic stand on top of the hill, until the red coats got here to repel the French invaders."

"That one."

"Bullshit. The truth is that Bold doesn't come from brave, but from bald and a mistake."

George laughed with her, driving up the dirt road that started at the foot of the bald hill. It meandered past the woods that covered the lower slopes, up to a natural terrace just below the summit. Alex had told him the whole town could be seen from there, and what was better: they'd also see the surrounding farms, the woods, the lake and even the Northern Cascades mountains across the lake.

"I heard it's a usual stop for local boys and girls," he said.

She nodded, smiling. If a boy was old enough to drive, lucky enough to have his parents lend him the car, and even luckier to get a date, that terrace would be the place to take his date. Not to invite them to the backseat like his grandpa had used to do, because there were a thousand better places for that. Going to the Bald Peak terrace meant to impress the date with the breathtaking sight of the full moon shining down on Baker Lake.

And if the boy didn't have anyone to ask out, or a girl couldn't make up her mind whether to go with the punk or the nerd, they'd go up the hill anyway, to have a good time with their friends. On summer full-moon nights, the Bald Peak terrace was as crowded at Time Square.

George looked up out the windshield. "But there's no full moon tonight," he said.

"Nope," she replied with a wink.

His quiet, "oh," made her giggle.

George stopped the car when they reached the terrace. The moon was but a golden thread floating among light clouds, and the terrace was as crowded as the Sahara. As they got out of the car together, Alex didn't notice her phone dropped from her pocket and fell on the passenger seat.

They strolled together up to the edge of the terrace, admiring the view that spread at their feet.

"This place's outta this world," George murmured.

"Is it really the first time you come up here?"

"Yeah. It started snowing a week after I moved here, straight through to March. And the spring rains poured for weeks. Not exactly the best weather to hike around."

"Right, you didn't have much of a chance to see around."

"Not until now."

George turned to Alex with a warm smile and took her hand, tugging softly to bring her closer to him. He waited for her to meet his eyes.

"Will you ever believe you're the reason why I'm still here?" he whispered.

Alex held his eyes, their faces only inches away. Dammit. Not a month ago, only picturing a moment like that with George would've sent chills down her spine. And now she only felt awkward. Yeah, she liked George alright. A lot, actually. But all of a sudden, something was missing. Where had that spark gone? Where was that sweet emotion that made her fingers tingle whenever he was around?

He expected her to say something, so she nodded with a mild smile. "I believe you, George. It's just that—"

"I know, you're not ready to commit. I already told you I get it and it's okay. I'll wait."

She wished she had the guts to tell him it wasn't about commitment anymore, because she wasn't even sure about what she felt for him.

Not after meeting Aidan Holster.

However, even if that sweet emotion was gone, George's eyes on her and his lips so close to hers were some temptation. So maybe she didn't love him, but she did want him. She tilted her head as her lips parted. Her eyes closed when George leaned in to kiss her.

"You know this means nothing, right?" she muttered.

George chuckled, locking his arms around her. "Maybe it means nothing to you. I'm gonna give it whatever meaning I want. And it's none of your business."

His smile was irresistible. She just had to kiss him again.

At the same time, at the police station, Ollie finished checking everything was in place. Claire had brought him two huge slices of raspberry pie, and he planned having one right then and keeping the other for later. After a shuteye.

The night had been busier than any regular week put together, so he felt entitled to take a break. He had his slice of pie and went to Graham's office, where the sofa seemed to call out his name.

The moment he closed his eyes, something happened at the lab. It wasn't something slow and terrifying, meant to make an audience sitting in the dark pause eating popcorn and hold their breath, because there was no way to do both things at the same time. It only made the strictly necessary sound: the hiss of an opening zip. That was it. No FX, no nothing. Well, save the fact of a dead girl opening her own body bag from the inside.

Lila sat up and looked around. She snorted when she touched her hair and found the crack in her skull, and tried to hide it with her big black lace ribbon before resting both hands on the cold slab and jump down from it. She took her time to pat in place the zillion laces on her gothic black dress, tied her gothic black boots and walked out of the refrigerated room.

The door to the hall opened noiselessly. Lila came tiptoed into the squad room, made sure there was nobody in sight and headed straight for the front door, not wasting even a glance on Ollie, sound asleep on Graham's couch.