First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “You told me it was okay.”

  “That was before NSA came for an in-person meeting. When he’s with you, what kind of questions does he ask?”

  I huffed out air, letting the frustrated blow serve as my answer. None of this made sense. One date and he’s ranting? “Are you reading my texts?”

  “I’m reading his.” I was shocked, but I wasn’t shocked. Erik had no boundaries. “Look, I’ve asked a tremendous amount of you. I get it. Can you hang tight for two more months? Just two more months. That’s all I ask.”

  “Have you scheduled the flight for me to visit Mom and Dad?”

  “Jesus, Cali, did you not hear anything I said? We have to be careful. I’m trying to arrange a private plane so you don’t come up on anyone’s radar. And believe it or not, I’m busy as fuck. We’re doing a monster load of work with a wicked small group. But we’re getting closer. Be patient. I gotta run. Love you, sis.”

  The line went dead, and I hurled the handheld phone across the room into a wall where it clattered on the floor. Asshole.

  I closed my eyes in frustration. But behind my lids, I saw the photographs. The ones Erik showed me. Blood everywhere. The images grotesque, like something out of a dark television show. His terror that day had been palpable. He’d only shown me the photos when I brushed him off. Considered him delusional. Then he offered up his proof. She’d been murdered with a knife. One slice along the throat. A chill fell over me, and I rubbed my arms for warmth. He told me I could be next. Used for revenge.

  I’d been out here for almost a year. He’d had no signs that his ex-partner still sought revenge. And all these other groups he dangled around to emphasize the threat? Even if the Chinese got to me—or the Americans, for that matter—it wasn’t like I could lead them to Erik.

  I had no idea where Erik was. He could be as nearby as Wilmington, or as far away as Bora Bora. I easily lied about his whereabouts because I didn’t know the answer. And even if anyone out there tried to tap our communications, he always used a burner phone to call me. Half the time he used our stupid childhood code. And knowing Erik, he used a VPN with some complex server network that routed through a dozen countries. They’d never find him. Ever. But he might be right that if they found me, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Nym trotted across the room, and I rubbed his soft fur. My brother was a brilliant genius beyond compare. They’d never catch him. He’d never be stupid enough to use the same public library day in and day out until they triangulated his location and caught him. That was how I came to land here. He moved too often. I wanted peace. I wanted roots. The Taurus in me ran strong.

  I closed my MacBook Air and sought tranquility through a long, sweaty run on the sand. I stretched my legs, ankle to toe, until my calves and thighs burned. In and out through my nose, deep, consistent breaths that pumped blood and oxygen as thoughts, once frenetic, mellowed to a dim void. My focus centered on maintaining my stride.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. My pace slowed. My hands gripped my sides as I gasped for air then checked my time.

  “You look like you had a good run.” Still gasping, I held my hand up to my brow, sheltering my eyes from the bright overhead sun. Logan straddled an ATV. His shorts slid up above his knees, exposing tanned, muscular thighs and calves. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, giving him an athletic vibe. Everything inside me vibrated in response.

  “Hey. I didn’t see you.”

  “Well, I’m glad I ran into you. I bought too much fish to grill, and it’s not gonna keep. Was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

  Erik’s angry what are you thinking floated through my mind. But I liked Logan. Clearly. My heartrate monitor provided the evidence. And Erik couldn’t just change his mind. He didn’t own my life. No matter what bullshit he’d wrapped himself up in. “Sure. I’d love to.”

  “Great. Seven okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And bring Nym.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we might have leftover food. And I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy being home alone, right?”

  I couldn’t think of a reason not to bring Nym, so I agreed and told him I’d be over later. As I stretched beneath the blistering sun, my thoughts circled my brother and all of his requests. I wondered how much longer I could go along with him. Two more months? What, exactly, would be different in two months? It was always the same thing with him. “Just a little more time, Cali.” No, I didn’t want to see my brother in jail. And our parents would be devastated if he were imprisoned. But I didn’t intend to be a sacrificial lamb for him either. Yes, he got himself in way too deep. Yes, there’d been one mafia-esque attack on his partner’s girlfriend. But that had been a year ago. I’d been sequestered, locked away long enough. Two more months? No, I didn’t buy it. I’d been hearing it too long. At some point, the quality of my life had to factor in.

  And in all my years in college and grad school, I’d never found a guy quite like Logan. In the past, I’d have a date and wait for a couple of days to hear from the guy, to see if I passed muster for a second date. And more often than not, I didn’t even care if I did. Logan’s text this morning was refreshingly different. I liked him. And while I’d grown to love Nym, the dog didn’t qualify as the greatest conversationalist.

  I would share nothing with Logan that would lead him to my brother, not that in his role in Public Safety he’d be interested in my brother, anyway. Without a doubt, there was a logical, simple explanation that explained his NSA visit. NSA wasn’t even supposed to be monitoring activity in the United States.

  At times, Erik’s paranoia bordered on irrational. And this, his fears about a cop on a remote barrier island with a population below one thousand, qualified as irrational. Often, I found it hard to differentiate between Erik’s irrational and rational fears. Were governments actually hunting him? Did this global crime syndicate truly want revenge? I had no proof of anything. Photographs of a murder. One long, heart-wrenching conversation over a year ago, and little bursts of insights and promises since. I loved my brother. I knew him better than any other person in the world. And I would never out him. But as I stretched my legs under the burn of the sun, I decided I needed a new normal. Or at least, I needed more.

  Nym kept pace at my side, ears forward and alert. I’d kept him on a somewhat rigid routine, giving him long walks or runs in the morning, at noon, early evening, and late at night. It might have been my imagination, but the dog appeared nervous, maybe unsure about what we were doing off schedule and why. His tail wagged ever so slightly as we strolled down the black asphalt street. The black tip of his nose lifted, sniffing the air as the charcoal scent from a nearby grill wafted through the salty air.

  I led Nym off East Beach Drive, into Logan’s neighborhood. The white clapboard homes offered a casual and comfortable vibe, a more modern take on the traditional beach house. The front doors and windows reminded me of the modern farmhouse style of HGTV queen Joanna Gaines. Nym recognized the area, as I sometimes walked him through the streets and paths that cut through the neighborhood. I particularly loved this area during dusk. The interior lights lent a warm golden glow, and the scent of fresh-cut grass drifted through the narrow asphalt paths.

  Towels hung out on porch railings to dry, and in some homes, surfboards leaned against sides and bikes were left out in the front yard, often haphazardly as the kickstands didn’t do well against the sandy soil. Parts of this neighborhood were evocative—to me, at least—of some older Seattle neighborhoods filled with craftsman architectural style homes. Of course, the two locations couldn’t be more different. Seattle was a burgeoning city, parking was scarce, and, well, it was a city. Here the yards featured palm trees and beach grasses, and parking wasn’t an issue because there were zero automobiles. Still, in the evening, this area reminded me of home more than any other spot on the island.

  As we approached Logan’s house, I glimpsed him by his grill in his back yard. He looked up, and a fissure of energy burst inside as his ga
ze fell on me. My fingers scratched between Nym’s ears to calm his nerves.

  Logan wore gray linen shorts and a black V-neck t-shirt that pulled tight across his biceps and across his chest. The tips of his dark hair appeared damp, as if he’d recently emerged from a shower. I’d considered bringing food, but he’d said he had too much, so I showed up emptyhanded.

  “What are we having?”

  “Salmon grilled on cedar planks. I’m warming the wood now. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure.” The table in his back yard was already set with placemats and white china. A large citronella candle rested in the middle, and all around the perimeter of his small back yard were lit torches. “It looks great back here.” Two oversized doors opened onto the porch, and I followed him through the closest one into his kitchen, leaving Nym on the locked porch.

  “As you can see, I’m at war with the mosquitoes and gnats. If they get too bad, we can come inside onto the screened porch, but I like sitting beneath the stars.”

  “Do you have bad mosquitoes here?” I had no issues at all on the beach, but I’d definitely smashed a few large ones deeper on the island beneath the tree canopy. Actually, some of those large mosquitoes reminded me of back home, or at least hiking near Mount Olympus.

  “You know, it’s more of what I think they call no see-ums. Little tiny flies. What can I interest you in? Red? White?”

  “You’re the chef. You pick.”

  “Okay. Chardonnay it is.” He opened the stainless steel refrigerator door and lifted an unopened bottle. He held it out for me to inspect. “Have you had this?”

  “Yes. It’s good.”

  He poured us each a glass and lifted a prepared charcuterie board from the counter.

  “Outside?”

  “Sure.”

  Nym paced the porch, smelling the floor and the corners.

  “Have you had any other dogs back here?”

  “No. Nym’s the first.” His lips curved into a subtle smile. “You’re the first woman I’ve had over, too.”

  “Ah, well, Nym isn’t usually so nosy.” He continued to pace the porch, sniffing every floorboard.

  “Have you taken Nym to many homes?”

  “No.” I smiled and lifted my glass to my lips. “You’re the first.” The chilled wine had hints of oak, with very little sweetness, exactly like I liked it. “This is delicious.”

  “I’m not a big white wine guy, but I do like this. With the heat today, and the salmon, it seemed like a good pick.” He tapped his phone, and music floated through the air. “Do you like Jack Johnson?”

  “I do. I listen to him a lot.”

  “It’s been ages since I bought music. But I have Sonos set up throughout the downstairs. I can choose playlists.” He held up the screen of his iPhone for me to see.

  “Jack Johnson’s a fitting vibe for here, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.” I could hear Erik’s reprimand, that those devices could be hacked and used to listen to conversations, but I brushed his irritating rumble out of my mind.

  I settled back into a comfortable wicker club chair with thick cushions. My sundress slid up my thigh, and his gaze warmed my exposed skin.

  “So, Logan, tell me something more about Chicago. I’ve never been there.”

  “Really? Well, you haven’t experienced winter until you’ve spent a winter in Chicago.”

  “I went to college with a few folks from Minneapolis, and they said something along the same lines about Minnesota.”

  “Well, I suppose you could say we’re cousins. It’s one of those places that has great people, restaurants, culture, you know, plays and museums if you like that, and to me, it’s one of the more beautiful cities right there on Lake Michigan. But once you leave and you experience winter where people bundle up because the high is going to be fifty-one, well…”

  “So, you don’t plan on going back?”

  “No. But I can’t say I really came here with plans to stay here for the long haul either. What about you?”

  “No long-term plans.” I crossed my legs and thought back to the day Erik had recommended the East Coast, and I’d seen Wilmington on a list of top coastal cities. This island hadn’t been the plan, but the job posting had tempted me, then I fell in love with this place. So close to the mainland, yet worlds away.

  Logan whistled, short and quick. Nym approached him, and he scratched the dog’s head. “I think that’s the case for many who end up here. It’s more of a place to take a time out. Rest. Unless, of course, you’re a retiree like Chad and all his golfing buddies. Then I suppose that’s another sort of long-term plan.”

  “The ‘reap the benefits of all your hard work’ plan?” I swirled my wine, comfortable and relaxed.

  “Exactly.”

  His phone beeped repeatedly, and he tapped it. “Salmon’s ready.”

  “Do you tie everything into your phone?”

  “Pretty much. Doorbell, AC, I can lock and unlock my doors through my phone. If I’d wanted to, I could have connected the door on my golf cart shed to the phone, but I didn’t think it was worth paying for a sophisticated garage door contraption on a golf cart shed.”

  I itched to explain how bad of an idea it was to have everything on one device. He was opening himself up to all kinds of security risks from hackers. Not to mention his data was probably being used by a hundred different companies to market him different products. No, that was the least of his worries. His biggest worry, as I considered the risks from such dependence on a hackable phone, came from a thief being able to unlock his house. And most likely the way they would do it was to figure out his password. Nothing high tech at all. Or simply steal his phone. Would a normal person have these thoughts? I thought of Poppy. If I used her as a benchmark, then no, she’d never, ever think like that. I refrained from saying anything that might expose my knowledge about risks, but I made a mental note to check out his phone to see if I could increase his security.

  For dinner, he grilled salmon and covered it with a teriyaki glaze, and coupled it with a tossed salad and couscous with fresh sliced cherry tomatoes.

  “You know, looking at these meals you’re preparing, I’m feeling like I’ve been stuck in college-student mode.”

  “What’s your typical meal?”

  “Well, for dinner, I’m a big fan of frozen food.”

  He grimaced.

  “It’s just me,” I said in defense. “I mean, I’d say I even eat a bowl of cereal at least once or twice a week.”

  “How old did you say you are?”

  I laughed. “Thirty-two. There’s no excuse.”

  “I can’t say I’ve never done that myself. And I’m forty-two. If you were curious.” His knee brushed mine at the same time a sexy smirk played across his lips. “But I eat out quite a bit. I’ll meet up with someone from work or walk over to The Wisp. If I sit out there with a beer, most days someone I know will stop by.”

  “That must be nice.”

  Logan set his fork down and scratched at the end of his beard. “You know, it’d be easy enough for you to do the same. People here are friendly.”

  “I know,” I said, purposefully upbeat.

  His long index finger glided up and down the knife handle on the table. Slowly and deliberately, he raised his gaze to meet mine head-on.

  “I don’t want to pry. But I noticed your alarm system. The multiple locks. And you moved out here on your own and… I want you to know. If there’s someone out there who treated you badly or anything…”

  “It’s nothing like that.” Surprise at his conclusion hit me first, but then I considered how I must look to him with my locks and security cameras and German shepherd. “My brother works for a security company, and he’s diligent.” I half-laughed. “And that’s an understatement. He’s… he sees bad things, and he gets a little crazy, and then I think maybe I get a little uneasy with all of it?” There, that sounded like a good explanation, right? And nothing too accurate about Erik.r />
  His hand found mine beneath the table. He squeezed, and in a contradiction of reactions, I felt oddly secure and comforted, while a fission of energy circulated up my arm.

  “I’m a cop. I mean, it’s not exactly like I see much here. But back in Chicago… I saw some of the worst. I get it. I can definitely understand how your brother might get carried away with your security. I mean, depending on what he might be seeing.”

  “Was it tough? It doesn’t seem like it’s tough here on Haven Island, but there are TV shows about being a policeman in Chicago.” He scratched his beard, weighing his response. I presumed maybe deciding how deep he wanted to go with his answer.

  “You see some of the worst aspects of human nature. And even some people you want to help, they don’t trust you. It’s a sort of thankless job.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes, thinking. “But it’s fulfilling. At least to me. Making the city safer. Fighting crime. It’s fulfilling.”

  “Is there a lot of crime out here? On the island?” He got my question. This place was a small town, but it was also a step away from resort life. How fulfilling could his job here be?

  “It’s different here. But I still keep our little community safe. And this isn’t forever. I’d say this was a needed breather.” He fiddled with the napkin on his lap. There was something else there, and I thought he was about to open up. But he changed the subject. And I let him. “Well, tell me about your brother. I always wanted one, so I have to say, I’m jealous.” He dug his fork into the food on his plate then waited for my answer. Erik’s question from earlier, asking me about what kinds of questions Logan asked me, floated by. My stomach flipped. But no, I wouldn’t go being paranoid. And some things are public record.

  “Well, he’s not just my brother. He’s my twin. So I think of him as more. You know, more than just a sibling. We shared a womb.”

  “Wonder twins?”

  “Not quite like that. But the connection you hear about with twins? We have it. Or we did, when we were growing up. Now, sometimes I’m not so sure it’s… no, it’s still there. But it’s not as strong. We shared a bedroom until I was maybe eleven or twelve and someone told my parents girls and boys shouldn’t share a room once, you know…”