Drift Away (Noah Braddock Mysteries) Read online

  Ike had taken care of me. Got me a place to live and gave me a job. I was surviving.

  Carter and I agreed that we shouldn’t talk for awhile, part of that whole plan to lay low. I had an email address that I checked once a week from a coffee shop or the library. If there was anything he thought I should know, it would show up there.

  So far, it had remained empty.

  I watched the vacationers bounce in the water, yelling and screaming and smiling. You could find a sunburn in every shade of pink and red if you strode down the beach. They didn’t notice me unless they wanted to drop twenty bucks on a big blue umbrella, thirty if they wanted the chair, too. They were there on the Panhandle because they’d chosen to be, to escape their everyday lives and enjoy a few days in the sun and water.

  I was there because I had no place else to go.

  FOUR

  Colin was waiting for me as I carried the last two umbrellas back to the stand.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting his chin. “Tough guy. I need to talk to you.”

  I stepped around him and laid the two umbrellas on the pile of others inside the small box shed. I pulled the cable across them and snapped the lock into place. I closed the door on the shed and locked that. I picked up my backpack and started up the dunes toward the lot.

  “Are you fucking deaf?” Colin growled from behind me.

  I said nothing.

  “I said I need to talk to you.”

  I stepped off the sand and onto the planked wooden walkway.

  “You need to mind your own fucking business, tough guy.”

  I nodded at a couple heading the opposite direction on the walkway. I passed the shower and descended the stairs to the parking lot.

  Colin scurried around and set himself directly in front of me. “Hey. Stop walking, asshole.”

  I took a step to my right and he slid in front of me, blocking my path.

  I exhaled and stared at him.

  “You need to mind your own business,” he repeated. His chest was puffed out again like it had been earlier. His arms were at his sides, exaggerating the distance they needed from his body to show off his muscles.

  “You should move,” I said. “Now.”

  An evil slit creased his mouth. “Oh, good. You do talk.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You see that girl or that kid again,” he said. “Stay away. Got it?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I said do you got it?” he snarled again and poked his finger in my chest.

  I grabbed his finger and bent it straight back. He swung at me with his free arm but I already had my arm up to block it. I stepped forward with my right leg and swept it quickly back into him. He went straight down to the pavement on his back and I dropped hard onto him, my knee smashing into his chest.

  His sunglasses were gone and his eyes bulged. He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it, not even when his finger snapped and went limp. I loosened my grip and tears formed in the corners of his eyes but he still didn’t make a sound. I rose off him and then jammed my knee into his sternum again. He gasped, for air or because of the pain, I didn’t know.

  I stared at him, months of rage bubbling in my system, begging to be released. The hair on my arms stood at attention and the heat on my skin had nothing to do with the air temperature.

  Colin’s eyes squeezed shut in agony, his mouth open, eager for oxygen to find its way into his empty, compressed lungs.

  I stood.

  He coughed and wheezed as he whimpered over his finger. He rolled onto his side, hugging the broken finger to his chest, his eyes still closed.

  I adjusted the backpack on my shoulders and scanned the parking lot. We were alone in the dimming sun and suffocating heat. I took a deep breath, trying to release the anger inside me. I felt nothing—no remorse, no sorrow, no guilt—for what I’d done to him. I knew that wasn’t a good thing, that it could take over in a fraction of a second and I’d end up doing more than just hurting him. Just like I’d done with Keene.

  I tugged on the straps of the backpack and looked down at him. He was curled up in the fetal position. He’d need a cast and he’d be sore, but he’d be alright. Well and dumb enough to bother me again, most likely.

  I walked away from him, leaving him there on the pavement, and hoped he would prove me wrong.

  FIVE

  I crossed the sand-covered street into the neighborhoods, across from the condos and hotels. Fort Walton Beach was a narrow strip of land sandwiched between the Gulf of Mexico to the south and a curving, twisting bay to the north. The neighborhoods were a combination of low-slung bungalows and newer homes that had been built on lots where bungalows had been torn down. Most of the front yards consisted of sand and rock, almost like a desert, but the newer homes—the ones with money—paid a pretty penny for irrigated lawns.

  The residents were a mish-mash, just like the homes themselves—some had been there forever, some showed up just for the cooler months. Working class locals co-mingled with the nouveau riche.

  I walked several blocks in until I was one street off the bay. I stopped at the last house on the cul-de-sac, a two-story structure in various stages of renovation. The driveway was a dirt path, staked for the concrete that Ike said was being poured the next day. The yard was dead weeds and cracked soil. Trenching it for sprinklers was going to be a chore.

  Ike was the contractor on the house, a jack of all trades. I helped out around the property and supervised the subs when he wasn’t around in exchange for a place to stay. The partially-converted garage space I was living in would eventually become half of a bedroom in the massive remodel.

  I walked around the dug-up drive toward the side of the house, fished for the key in my backpack and opened the side door to the garage.

  The stale, pent-up heat slammed into me like an explosion. I left the door open in a feeble attempt to filter some of it out. The floor was concrete, a dirty, threadbare area rug hiding oil stains and grease marks. An empty workbench ran the length of one wall, a twin-sized cot pushed up against another. The small stash of clothing I’d accumulated was stacked neatly next to it. A small fridge and microwave stood next to the garage door, the opener having been disengaged. Stacks of boxes rested against the opposite wall, along with a small assortment of power tools. A shower and toilet were in the hallway that connected the garage to the house. The work sink was new and clean and I used it to wash the sand and beach from my face.

  It wasn’t my home. It was shelter.

  I didn’t have a home any longer, nor did I want one. I wasn’t even sure I needed one. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in Fort Walton. I knew that at any moment, I could be gone. By my choice or someone else’s.

  And I wasn’t sure I cared.

  The cool water stung my skin as the grit and sweat fell away into the basin. I toweled off and walked back outside.

  I zig-zagged through the bushes and various piles of dirt, toward the back of the property. The lot backed to the bay and the water was deserted in the late afternoon heat. I trudged through the dead grass to the small strip of sand that buffeted the land from the water and sat down.

  “I miss you,” I said to Liz, staring out at the water.

  I’d been doing this every day since I’d arrived in Fort Walton. Pretty much every day since she’d been killed. There was a vacancy in my life that didn’t feel like it would ever leave. I knew she was gone, but it was hard to accept that.

  So I talked to her.

  “It’s hot,” I said out loud, picking at the brown grass. “Not like San Diego. You wouldn’t like it.”

  Liz hated the oppressive heat. Claimed she couldn’t live anywhere other than San Diego. Her hair wouldn’t accept it.

  “I got in a fight today.” I watched the water shimmer. “I’m sorry.”

  A flock of birds flew overhead and I glanced up, squinting into the sun.

  “If you were here, I wouldn’t have,” I said. “I would’ve walked a
way.”

  That was true. She would’ve touched my elbow, pulled me away, whispered in my ear. Diffused me. It was what she did. What she used to do. When she was alive.

  I no longer had that.

  “Haven’t heard from Carter in awhile,” I said. “I hope he’s okay.”

  I knew it was good that I hadn’t heard from him. It meant there was nothing I needed to know about.

  But it was also uncomfortable.

  Liz and Carter had been the two constants in my life for longer than I could remember. The two pillars I could lean on.

  And now there was no one.

  I tossed the dead blades of grass into the air and watched them blow away, fluttering in the breeze and landing in the water, riding the ripples out into the bay.

  “I hope you’re okay,” I said, the same words I said every day to her. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

  And then the memories swarmed me, like always, moths to an inextinguishable flame.

  Making the wrong decision, worrying about my mother when I should’ve been worried about Liz. Rushing to her house, knowing what I was going to encounter. Finding her body, motionless, lifeless. Holding her, begging for her to come back. Knowing it was my father who had set it all in motion.

  Tears stung my eyes, blurred my vision, but they couldn’t wash the memories away. Time didn’t heal wounds, I’d discovered. Because the ache and pain I felt gnawed at me, grew bigger every day.

  “I love you,” I said, my voice a ragged whisper.

  I sat there for awhile longer, thinking about her, missing her.

  Like every other day.

  SIX

  The car idling in front of the house froze me.

  I hated living with paranoia, but it was my own doing. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, it felt like someone was looking at me. Like they knew me. Like they knew what I’d done.

  Like they were about to make a phone call.

  It was paralyzing at times. But I couldn’t make it go away.

  So the car stopped me in my tracks and every single worst-case scenario ran through my head in a matter of seconds.

  The woman from the beach leaned across the passenger seat of an almost-ancient Honda Accord and smiled at me. “Noah, is it?”

  Goosebumps formed on my arms. I tried to never use my name and anytime I heard it out loud, I thought I’d made a mistake.

  “Jackson told me,” she said. “He said that was your name.”

  I saw movement in the tinted window at the back of the car and I could make out a small hand waving at me.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s Noah.”

  She cut the engine and got out of the car.

  “Did Ike tell you where I lived?” I said, already mentally packing my things. I was irritated. He knew I didn’t want people to know where I was, no matter what.

  The woman looked puzzled. “Who’s Ike?” She shook her head. “No. We saw you leaving the parking lot, crossing the highway. I couldn’t catch you.” She paused. “Then I saw you walk out to the water. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

  I wondered if she’d gotten out of her car and heard me talking to Liz.

  “Oh,” I said.

  She pushed the brown wisps of hair off her forehead. “I just wanted to say thank you. Again. For bringing Jackson to me.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ve never left him,” she said. “I don’t want you thinking I’m a bad mom–”

  I cut her off. “I don’t.”

  “It’s just…” She bit her lip as she thought about what to say. “I had some stuff to take care of. Stuff he didn’t need to see. And he was playing. I didn’t think I’d be gone more than a minute or two.”

  “It’s fine,” I told her. “You don’t have to explain. He was fine. No harm done.”

  She nodded. “Anyway, I wanted to buy you dinner or something. As a real way to say thanks. And to apologize for having to deal with Colin.”

  “No need,” I said. “Really.”

  She glanced back at the car, then back at me. “I know he’s an asshole,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry for the hassle.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “He was still lying in the parking lot when we saw you crossing the highway,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Whatever he did, I’m sure he deserved it,” she said.

  I shrugged.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Bella, by the way.”

  I shook her hand. “Noah.”

  She smiled. “Jackson said you had an ark.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t know how to build one.”

  She nodded and looked past me. “You live here?”

  I hesitated. “Yeah.”

  We stood there quietly for a few moments. I’d never been uncomfortable around people. But that was before. Bella was nice, but it didn’t change the fact that I was hiding.

  “So,” she finally said. “Could I please buy you dinner?”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  She blinked. “Jackson would really like it. He said you were nice to him.”

  On cue, the back window rolled down and he poked his head out.

  “Do you like hamburgers?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Me too,” he said, grinning. “But not the ones with tomatoes on them. Those are bad.”

  “I’m with you,” I said, unable to ignore his smile. “Those are bad.”

  “Come eat with us,” he said, his hands grasping the door. “Please?”

  My stomach bounced. I didn’t like being out in public and I really wasn’t crazy about the idea of talking to strangers. But they weren’t strangers anymore. They had names…and they knew mine.

  I glanced back at the house and my space in the garage. I could say no and slip back inside. But I knew what would be waiting for me there. Suffocating air and memories of Liz.

  I looked at Bella. “Let me go grab a shirt.”

  SEVEN

  The hamburger place was attached to a carwash.

  Bella drove east down the highway and into the larger tourist area of Destin. Where Fort Walton was quieter, a bit more local, Destin seemed as if it had been created specifically for people to visit. Massive, high-rise condominium complexes lined the Gulf Shore, with scores of chain restaurants and shops sandwiched in between.

  Jackson kept up the chatter the entire drive, calling out the names of the hotels and condos as we passed each one. I cracked the window and leaned toward the door, letting the warm air hit me in the face as we drove. Bella didn’t complain.

  When she turned into the parking lot, I was confused.

  “This is a restaurant?” I asked.

  She pointed at the bright red sign. “Tops. It’s just a drive-up place. I know. It’s goofy. Attached to the self-serve carwash. But it’s good. Trust me.”

  “Yeah!” Jackson said. “It’s awesome!”

  He was already out of his seatbelt and opening the door as Bella pulled into a parking slot. He bolted from the car and attached himself to one of the small tables outside the car wash.

  She smiled at him as she pulled out the key. “Can you tell he likes it? Unless we eat at my work, this is the only place we go.”

  I nodded and got out.

  “Come sit with me!” Jackson yelled.

  “Go ahead,” Bella said. “I’ll order. Burger, fries and a drink is good? And no tomatoes, right?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She walked over to the small window to order and I sat down on the metal chair across from Jackson.

  “Have you eaten here before?” he asked, getting up on his knees and setting his hands on the table.

  “Nope. But I guess you have.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. It’s better than McDonald’s.”

  “Better than your mom’s restaurant?”

  “Well, it’s free at work, so it’s kinda different,” he said, tracing his fi
nger aimlessly on the table top.