First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “A lab. Great dog.”

  “They are good dogs. My neighbor had one when I was a kid.”

  “Have you always had shepherds?”

  “No. Nym is a gift from my brother. He didn’t like me living on my own. Growing up, we always had cats.” My mom loved cats. So did Erik. It’d surprised me when he purchased two dogs for us, but he didn’t see them as pets. To him, they extended our security system. And I didn’t want to answer further questions about my security. I looked back to his wide-open front door. “This is new construction, right? Did you recently move in?”

  “About a year ago. I’m slowly decorating. It’s not high on my list of priorities, but Luna put me in touch with her favorite decorator. She keeps showing up with suggestions. She found some art for the walls, which was good.” He stretched out a muscular leg. A scar ran up the side, barely visible in the moonlight and beneath the dark, curly leg hair. His shorts had risen to mid-thigh. He massaged his knee as he spoke. “You never know what a big difference art on a wall makes until you live for months with white walls. I think she said her next project is my porch, but I told her to wait for spring.”

  “I think you’d be safe getting furniture over the winter. It’s not like it gets that cold here.”

  “You’re probably right. I’ve still got the Chicago mindset. It’s fine. I’m not in a rush.”

  “Do you miss Chicago?”

  “No, not really. Do you miss Seattle?”

  “I do. I lived in a little craftsman near downtown, and I could walk to get coffee in the morning. I loved going for a run along the pier. On the weekends, I’d go out to the San Juan Islands sometimes. I mean, it’s nice here too, but it’s different there. The trees are larger. It’s a vibrant city, but it’s also peaceful. I mean, my neighborhood.” I rubbed my forehead, cognizant I wasn’t making any sense. It wasn’t like Haven Island wasn’t peaceful. “Have you ever been out there?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “Did you know that there’s phosphorus in the water, and at night, when a school of jellyfish floats by, the glow, it’s like a thousand stars lurking in the depths.”

  “I’d heard about that, never seen it.”

  “My favorite thing used to be going to Harbour Island and camping out near the beach. They have a public campground right on the beach.” Nostalgia swept over me in a wave, and I yearned for those days, before Erik went down his rabbit hole and pulled me along. I’d spend the weekend camping, alone, studying. Playing language tapes over and over and speaking back into the void.

  “Well, you can camp out here any time you want. The stars aren’t in the water, but they’re definitely in the sky. And I’d bet our summer nights are warmer.”

  I breathed in a low laugh. “You can’t beat a southern summer night. So, are you planning on staying out here? You sound… contented.” The resort island seemed to be more of a place for someone to either come and retire or to stop off temporarily. Our mutual friends Luna and Tate were planning to move away within the next year.

  “It’s not my forever place. But it’s serving a purpose. What about you?” He shifted again on the wood step, grimacing as his joints cracked.

  “Do you hear your joints?”

  “Feel ’em too.” He grimaced, but the low chuckle set me at ease. I liked the sound.

  “It looks painful.”

  “It’s not pleasant. But they’ve taken a beating.”

  “Have you tried yoga?”

  He pulled on his shoulder, and his jaw muscles flexed. He needed a massage. For someone to knead those tight muscles that he no doubt never stretched. His stretched-out leg brushed mine, and a flurry of sensations skittered across my skin. Goosebumps sprouted along my arms, and I rubbed them down.

  “I’m not a yoga kind of guy.” My belly flopped. It was his smile. Friendly and warm. I squirmed, and the rotation of my wrist lit up my watch face.

  “Oh, my word. It’s after midnight.” I stood and brushed off my butt. The skin tingled as blood returned after my extended stay on his stoop.

  “Glad you stopped by.” His dark eyes gazed into mine, and my breathing slowed. As if floating, suspended in time, he inched closer. I breathed in hints of cedar. The lines of his throat shifted as he swallowed. The shrill cry of an owl broke my trance.

  I mumbled nonsense, stepping to my cart, waving my hand into the night air.

  “Cali?” I stopped and turned. “Let’s hang out again.”

  Hang out? I could hang out. Thanks to Erik, a relationship with law enforcement wasn’t exactly a part of my future, but hanging out, or even a casual date, if he asked again, that I could do.

  Chapter 8

  Logan

  * * *

  “You weren’t joking. This stuff is good.” Matt tilted the paper cup, inspecting the sugary frozen concoction we on Haven Island favored above all else.

  “Mike’s Ice. It’s the stuff of legends.” The small hut across from the original lighthouse foundation housed Mike’s Ice and served as a cheap lunch stop with items such as pre-made sandwiches and hot dogs. But the Italian ice drove the man’s business. In the summer, kids and adults alike lined up in front of the narrow service window.

  “It’s good. Really good. I used to live in New York. This is the good stuff.” He dipped his plastic spoon back into the cup and scraped for remnants.

  “I’ve been telling you to come out and visit. You know, it hit me the other day…we’re pushing twenty years since our training days. Two decades. Unreal.”

  He barely acknowledged my realization as he continued to scarf down the scoops. He’d put on pressed khaki shorts for his visit to the beach, black dress socks pulled straight up, and a short sleeve button-down with heavy starch. He reminded me of a senior military officer who had been told he had to dress down and no longer had any clothes in his closet that fit the bill. Nothing about him resembled my buddy from those training days. But something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And it had to do with him, not his clothes.

  “So, how’re Tiffany and the kids?”

  “Good. She’s…” He trailed off and sucked on his spoon.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. The kids are good. Zoe started kindergarten last week.”

  “Really? Wow.”

  He opened his phone to a photo of a little girl with pigtails, a backpack about as wide as she was tall, and an enormous grin standing in front of a standard-issue yellow school bus. “She was so proud. I tell you, it was hard watching her climb those bus steps.”

  “I bet.” I swallowed some of my ice. The limbs on a nearby palm tree swayed in the breeze, and the voices of the Mike’s Ice patrons a few feet away drifted by.

  “You know, we could use you back in D.C.” His gaze remained inside the cup in his hand. At a glance, you might have thought he was focused on weeding out one of the three flavored scoops, but…

  “What’s going on, Matt?”

  “I just want you to know that I can easily get you a position in D.C. Or probably almost any other city. Are you happy here? Is this what you want to be doing?”

  His fascination with the inside of the paper cup confirmed to me he wasn’t coming clean about something.

  “Matt. What the hell? Did you find something out about our budgets?”

  “No. How would I have access to North Carolina budgets? My focus is on activity outside the US, remember? Nah, I wouldn’t worry about your job security. At the end of the day, no matter how riled up people get about budget expenditure, you live on what is basically a resort island filled with rich residents and tourists. Budgets will probably get cut, but they aren’t ever going to completely remove Public Safety. But you came here to regroup. I figured you might want to get back to something more. That’s all. And right now, with the state of the cyber world, we could use you. If you’re bored. Or need more…” He trailed off.

  If I was bored…I understood where he was coming from. But… “You said you needed to come down a
nd talk to me. And NSA doesn’t monitor the domestic arena. What did you need to talk to me about?”

  “There’s chatter. You know, on the boards.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “There’s a pod of servers in the southeast. Being used by one of the more powerful international crime syndicates.”

  “Wouldn’t they have servers all over the world?”

  “Yes. And I’d been hearing you talk about this island, and I had it in my head it would be an ideal place. But now that I’m here, I see it’s not.”

  “No. I told you. Connection here is too iffy. If you’d told me that was what you were thinking, I could have warned you off. The southeast isn’t exactly a small stretch of land.”

  “No. It’s not. But, for various reasons, we’re thinking it’s North Carolina.”

  “Maybe Wilmington? It’s a college town. I’d think you’d want mainland.”

  “I agree.”

  “You couldn’t talk to me about this on the phone?”

  “We have reason to believe we’re being monitored. Or we’ve got a leak.”

  “Shit. That sucks.”

  “It does. But, ever since Solar Winds, you know, we’ve got to be careful. Always. Anyway, FBI is working with us. I wanted to see you. Used checking this area out as an excuse.”

  He crumpled the empty cup and set it on the table.

  “You wanted to see me. You didn’t come to vacation.” He stretched out his fingers then balled up his fist. His knuckles cracked. “If the wife and kids are good, none of this job stuff sounds urgent… I’m running out of ideas. What’s going on?” He frowned and stared down at his balled-up fist. “Spit it out.”

  “Bethany’s pregnant.”

  The words hit like a punch to the gut. A shield formed, jamming all emotion.

  “That’s good. She’ll be happy about that.” I said it, but it didn’t mean I was actually happy for my ex. No, the recoil inside my chest could not be described as happy.

  “I didn’t know if I should tell you. But I didn’t want you to return to Chicago and see her without knowing.”

  “It’s good. I’m happy for her.”

  I felt him examining me. I reached for his crumpled cup and used spoon, picked them up, and threw them away in the garbage along with my barely eaten ice. The tart lemon flavor didn’t hit the spot.

  “You’re taking this well.”

  “Was a matter of time, right?” No need to get worked up about it. Bethany had always been clear about what she wanted. What did he expect? For me to fly off the handle? Punch something?

  I drove Matt back to the office so he could brief me in a secure location on things to look out for, just in case. I don’t remember any of the ride back to the office. As he spoke, I kept telling myself to pay attention. I kept telling myself to listen. He had important things to share. Things he didn’t want to share over email or on the phone. Nothing he said caught my attention. I kept drifting as he shared rumors gleaned from intel sources. It sounded like any other day monitoring whispers. Those whispers could be from folks on the street, from highly coveted sources, or I supposed the vast DarkNet. Didn’t matter which world, physical or virtual. Virtual meant a whole lot more whispers and a billion more false leads.

  “Does anything jump out at you?” he asked.

  “No.” I emphasized that the chatter about a server cluster in the general vicinity was meaningless. The Outer Banks and barrier islands encompassed a sizeable swatch of land. As it was, our internet signal was so weak, I couldn’t see any hacker worth his salt choosing this island or any barrier island.

  He left behind some reports for me to read. He hadn’t shared anything groundbreaking. Without a doubt, he came down to tell me face to face about my ex-wife. He’d worried about my reaction. If I’d break down like before.

  I drove him to the ferry in silence. He patted my shoulder before he left, an expression of pity on his face, and it required a substantial amount of willpower to stand and take it. I didn’t want his pity. His news didn’t deserve pity. But I hated he created some bullshit reason to come down and tell me. I wasn’t angry at him, per se, but yeah, a good deal of anger lurked and stewed, enough I couldn’t stomach returning to Public Safety.

  I parked in one of the public parking spaces, took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my slacks, and found myself on the beach. The cool sand between my toes placated me. I walked aimlessly along, breathing in the salt air.

  * * *

  “Logan, you’re being stubborn. Just go get tested.”

  “A twenty-three-year-old woman was brutally murdered today. Excuse me for letting a murder derail my doctor’s visit.”

  * * *

  “Did you go to the center today?”

  “No. There was a drive-by shooting on Milwaukee Avenue. Rumors are there’s about to be a gang war.”

  * * *

  “Did you by chance visit—”

  “Do you have any idea what my average day is like? It’s not easy to just walk out in the middle of the day.”

  * * *

  The distant fights in my head drowned out the crash of the waves. She dropped it. Stopped mentioning the fertility center. I thought she’d become engrossed in a case defending one of my colleagues. I missed the signs.

  A fishing boat drove along the coast, off in the distance. Long lines extended from the back. The boat journeyed closer to shore, and I strained to see the fishermen, curious. A sharp pain punctured my foot.

  “Fuck.” I held it up for inspection. The corner of a shell sliced the skin below my big toe. I stuck the injury into the edge of the salt water and closed my eyes, absorbing the sting. I breathed out and admitted to the air what I’d probably known all along. “She was right. I was the problem.”

  A soft touch on my shoulder intensified into firm pressure.

  “Logan? Are you okay?”

  A dog’s nose neared mine, inches away. He panted, mouth open, and the pink tongue rested along bright white teeth. The dog’s dark eyes evaluated me, and I scratched the soft hair on his neck. I blinked my way out of the fog. Night sky, a moon partially covered by clouds, and the whites of crashing waves encircled me. Cali’s brow crinkled, and her dark eyebrows drew close together. With a loud exhale, I stood, my knees crunching as I rose.

  “Hey,” I said. I brushed the sand from the bottom of my shorts and discovered damp fabric.

  “I came out here to check on you. You’ve been sitting here for quite a while. Is everything okay?”

  “You saw me?” My extended stupor impacted me like a deep nap, and I struggled to piece together how day became night.

  “My deck’s a few houses down.” She pointed at her green cottage, barely visible above the dunes. “Come up and let me get you a glass of water.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I spend my days with only Nym to talk to. You’d be doing me a favor.” I suspected that was bullshit, but I didn’t have a reason to fight her. She clutched my elbow as if she worried I might pass out or break down. Christ, I must have been sitting for hours. My throat felt dry and raw.

  “Water sounds good. Thank you.”

  I followed her through the narrow path in the dunes that led to her cottage. Nym tracked close to my side. I wasn’t sure if the dog shared her concern for me, or he simply didn’t plan to let me stray with his owner nearby.

  “Sit here. I’ll be right back.” She clutched my elbow, guiding me to a chair on her deck, not letting go until I was safely seated. Nym sat on his haunches at my feet, his pointed ears erect and alert.

  “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt her.” Nym gave no acknowledgement he understood. If I were to translate his immobile response, he said, “I am watching you.”

  She handed me a water. The thin plastic crinkled in my hand, and condensation covered the bottle. The cold water hit the spot, and I downed about half of it in one long gulp.

  “If you need more, I can get another.” Cali hovered over me,
standing near my knees, observing all too closely.

  “Sit. I’m fine. Where’s yours?”

  “I’m not thirsty.” She sat down in the chair to my side, and we both faced the ocean, our view barred only by the thick top wooden rail on her deck. “Do you ever study the stars?”

  A layer of clouds muted the skies, but a few bright lights cut through as pinpricks in the gloom. “Special Forces. In training, we learned how to navigate. Are you an astronomer?”

  “No. But I used to be friends with someone who had one of those expensive telescopes. You know, the ones that cost a crazy amount of money but can see planets?”

  “Did you see the planets?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes. But… I’m from Seattle, and clear nights aren’t guaranteed.”

  “Clear nights aren’t guaranteed anywhere. That’s why you have to have alternate options.”

  I downed the rest of the water and fisted the bottle, crumbling it into a wad.

  “Do you want more?”

  “No. Do you mind if I use your restroom?”

  “Oh. Ah.” She looked to the sliding glass doors in a way that I turned, expecting to see a person.

  “Is someone else here?” I’d heard she lived alone.

  “No. No. It’s… of course you can use the restroom.” Her hand flew up to her hair, and she brushed it back from her face. “Here…” Something was off. Maybe I looked worse than I realized. Maybe she worried I was close to a breakdown. Just like Matt had worried. Maybe I did have a breakdown and that was how I lost hours. She opened her sliding glass door for me and then followed me inside.

  She decorated her living area with the standard beach decor. Off to the side, a bright white kitchen and an oval table overlooked the ocean. Like the time I’d been here before, nothing appeared out of place. The two dog beds, one in the kitchen, and one in the living area, were the only two items that made the place feel lived in. She and I both liked things sparse.