Drift Away (Noah Braddock Mysteries)

by Jeff Shelby

  “Bella, it’s alright,” I said. “It’s alright.”

  “I just don’t want you thinking that I…” Her voice trailed off. “I mean, yeah, okay, maybe…I should just shut up.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Shut up.”

  The panicked look on her face morphed to a frown when she realized I was kidding.

  “How are you?” she asked. “Better if you're making fun of me, I guess.”

  The ringing in my ears was gone. The side of my face was sore and tight and my jaw ached. I had a headache, but it was nothing compared to the night before. I stretched my arms and legs.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” I said.

  “Your face is still pretty messed up.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I doubt that,” she said and her face flushed again. “I mean…have you been hit before?”

  “Plenty of times.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  I wanted to share more with her. To tell her who I was, why I was there, who I used to be. But I knew that doing so would put her in an awkward position and would make me more vulnerable. And her.

  “Long story,” I said instead.

  Her face fell a bit, clearly disappointed that I hadn’t shared. I immediately felt guilty, but didn’t offer up anything else. Dragging her into my situation was far worse than my being dragged into hers.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Water? Breakfast?”

  I thought for a moment. “A computer.”

  “Be right back,” she said, disappearing into the hallway.

  I propped myself up in bed and didn’t feel like keeling over when I did so, which I took as a good sign. The ceiling fan above me spun slowly, dropping cool air onto my face and despite the small headache, I didn’t feel horrible.

  Bella reappeared, holding a small netbook. “This work?”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  She handed it over and I placed it in my lap.

  “Am I allowed to ask what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  She waited for a moment. “But you aren’t going to tell me what you’re doing.”

  “I’m typing,” I said.

  “And you’re definitely feeling better,” she said.

  “Not really.”

  “Good enough to be a smart ass.”

  “I guess.”

  I brought up Google and pulled up the email server and logged into my account. The inbox was empty. My paranoia took over and I wondered if Carter was okay.

  “What?” Bella asked. “What’s the matter?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  “You don’t look like it’s fine. Whatever ‘it’ is.”

  I was tempted to send another email, to see if he was alright, to see if he’d gotten the initial email I’d sent him. But I talked myself out of it. I didn’t check the account every day and I was sure he didn’t either. We were taking precautions for a reason and that meant avoiding habits that might lead anyone to me. I needed to be patient and trust that the system we’d set up would work.

  I logged out, erased the browser history and closed the laptop. I held it out to Bella. “Thanks.”

  She took it, confused. “That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  She set it on the dresser. “Okay. Whatever.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to be an ass. It’s just…just some things I don’t think I should share,” I said. “Has nothing to do with you. I swear.”

  She folded her arms. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  I wasn’t sure if she did or not, but I knew she was better off not knowing about me and that was all that mattered. I didn’t like her thinking that I was lying to her or being secretive after she’d been so nice to me, but I didn’t feel like I really had a choice.

  I braced myself with my arms and slowly moved my legs over the side of the bed. “Do you have any ibuprofen?”

  She nodded and left the room. She was back a moment later, with several pills in her palm and a glass of water in the other. I swallowed the pills and downed the water.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome. Are you hungry?”

  “No,” I said. “Tell me something. Do you need to make that run today? The one I interrupted?”

  She glanced at the door, probably nervous that Jackson would walk in. “Yes. David texted last night. He’s expecting me to.”

  “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I am not involving you in this.”

  “You already have.”

  “But I don’t need to make it worse,” she said, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Bella, I...”

  “No,” she said. “No way. I told you more than I should’ve anyway. I don’t want you to get involved. You have no idea what drug dealers and buyers are like. It’s awful.”

  I smiled, then laughed. Pain pulsated in my temples, but I kept laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, her mouth twisted with irritation.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” I said. “But it’s just kind of funny.”

  “What is?”

  The laugh died off and faces and consequences flashed through my mind. “I’ve been around far worse.”

  “What does that mean?” Bella asked.

  I stood and my legs felt solid. I was going to be just fine.

  “It means maybe I’m hungry after all,” I said. “And we can discuss your run over breakfast.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Actually, we couldn’t discuss it over breakfast because Jackson sat in my lap the entire time.

  He seemed oblivious to my purple, swollen cheek, instead focusing on the Lego people he brought to the table. He climbed in my lap as soon as I sat down, paying no mind to Bella’s protests. I waved her off, indicating it was okay. I liked the fact that the kid liked me.

  He wolfed down bites of pancake in between chattering about the figures on the table.

  “This one is my favorite,” he said, pointing to one with a small helmet. “Well, other than this one.” He pointed to a fireman. “And I really like this one, too.” He pointed to a football player. “I like all of them, I guess. Did they have Legos when you were a kid?”

  I nodded. “They did.”

  “But were they old-fashioned?”

  “Yes. Horse and buggies.”

  “What are those?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m kidding.”

  He shrugged, finished the last bite of pancake and jumped down. “Oh. Okay. I’m gonna go get some cars. Don’t leave.” He scampered out of the room.

  Bella shook her head, failing to hide a smile. “He is not a lap-sitter. Just so you know.”

  I finished the food on my plate and the last of the orange juice in my glass. “No?”

  “No. He’s affectionate, but not like that.” She paused. “I hope that’s okay. I can have a talk with him.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Now that I’ve fed you, are we going to discuss the…stuff?”

  “You need to pick it up, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. Go do that. Then come back and get me,” I said. “I can’t go with you to get it.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then we’ll go do it. And we’ll figure out how to get you out of it.”

  She eyed me closely. “This is going to sound weird, but you aren’t a cop are you?”

  I smiled, wincing at the stiffness in my cheek. “Hardly. No, I am not a cop.”

  “I didn’t think you were, but I thought I should ask,” she said. “What exactly are you?”

  I pushed back from the table and stretched my legs. “I honestly don’t know. And that isn’t some sort of answer to put you off. But I don’t know what I am anymore.”

  She nodd
ed, her eyes solemn, watching me. “Okay. What did you used to be?”

  I hesitated, then said, “A private detective.”

  “But you aren’t anymore?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It always is, isn’t it?”

  I chuckled. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “So why aren’t you anymore?”

  “You should’ve been an attorney, all these questions.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” she said. “It’s a polite way of saying I’m nosey.”

  I didn’t blame her. I’d been with her for a few days straight, she’d invited me into her home and taken care of me, and I’d told her nothing. I would have been curious, too.

  “Maybe I still am,” I said. “I really don’t know.”

  She chewed on her thumbnail for a moment, who knows what running through her head. I wouldn’t have trusted me if I were her. She was probably contemplating whether or not to check the FBI’s Most Wanted list for my picture. For all I knew, I was on it.

  “Answer me honestly,” she finally said. “Should I be afraid of you?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s not like that. It’s just…”

  “Complicated,” she said.

  “Complicated.”

  “My kid likes you,” she said, her eyes drifting toward the bedrooms. “I need to make sure…he’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Bella,” I said. “Either of you.”

  She thought about that for a long time, then finally nodded. “I believe you, Noah. And thank you.”

  “Thank you? For what?”

  She stood and walked over to me. She placed her hand lightly on the bruised side of my face. I felt uncomfortable under her gaze, but didn’t move.

  “For helping me,” she said. “It’s been forever since anyone wanted to help me.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I stayed with Jackson while Bella went to make the pick up. We built a Lego beach in the living room. Or rather he did, while I sat on the sofa and watched.

  Jackson had seemingly limitless energy. He bounced around the living room just like he had at the beach, talking as he went, describing and giggling and imagining. He was fun to watch and I liked spending time with him. He made the pain in my face far more tolerable.

  Bella was back in a half hour, a navy blue knapsack slung over her shoulder. Tension invaded her body, the easy-going demeanor from earlier in the morning long gone. Her eyes were darker, sadder, frustrated, even as the cut under her eye and the bruises on her skin were fading.

  She nodded at me. “We’re good.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, Jax,” she said, forcing a smile on her face. “We need to get going.”

  He spun on his knees to face her. “Where are we going?”

  “You’re going to the restaurant to hang with Allison,” she said. “Noah and I need to run an errand and then we’ll be back.”

  “I wanna go with.”

  “You can’t.”

  He hopped to his feet and came over to me. “I wanna go with.”

  I looked at Bella.

  “Jax,” she said. “We won’t be gone long.”

  He grabbed at my knee. “Please.”

  “Jax,” she said. “Enough.”

  Tears formed in his eyes and his lip quivered.

  “We won’t be gone long,” I said to him. “When we get back, we’ll go down to the beach or something.”

  He touched my knee with his finger. “You promise?”

  I glanced at Bella, then back at him. “I promise.”

  A smile cracked his face. “Okay.”

  “Go get your dude,” Bella said. “We gotta hustle.”

  He flew out of the room and back toward his bedroom.

  “You don’t have to promise him things,” she said.

  I pushed myself off the couch. “It’s fine.”

  “Don’t make him promises you won’t keep,” she said.

  “I won’t.”

  “I mean it.” Her eyes were hard now and her appearance changed completely. She was no longer the pretty girl from the beach. She was a pissed off mom who would defend her kid at all costs.

  I came up next to her. “I mean it. I won’t.”

  She stared at me and her eyes finally softened, blinking several times. “I know. Sorry. I’m just…anxious.”

  I nodded and Jackson bounded down the hallway with a raggedy old dog. “I got Dude!”

  Bella smiled at him, bent down and wrapped him up in her arms, hugging him tightly. “Yeah, you do.” She kissed the top of his head. “Ready?”

  He charged past us, out the front door. “Ready!”

  We dropped him at the restaurant and circled back to Fort Walton, crossing the bridge back to the mainland and west through the town, then north toward the interstate. She drove us into a small pocket of homes nestled against the freeway and pulled to the curb in front of a pale-green stucco one-story. The yard was bright green, flowers neatly arranged in planters across the front of the house. The sidewalk was swept clean, the driveway hosting a newer model white Volvo.

  “This is it?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she said, nodding. “Come here about once a month or so, I think. College kids.”

  “Guys?”

  She nodded. “Guys. Frat boys.”

  “Give you trouble?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Which was probably true, because I was becoming very aware that Bella could handle a lot.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “You’re coming with me?”

  “I didn’t come along just for the ride.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”

  Skepticism crept into her eyes, but she pushed open the door and got out. I followed.

  The door opened before she could punch the doorbell. A shirtless guy in his early twenties sporting a shaved head and dark goatee smiled at her. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hi, Paul,” she said.

  He looked past her at me. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Just a friend,” Bella said.

  His eyes narrowed. “You usually come alone.”

  She slipped the backpack off her shoulder and held it out to him. “You want your stuff or not?”

  His eyes stayed on me. “Yeah. I’ll get the money.”

  “Nope,” I said. “We come in. No money out here.”

  “Look, pal, I don’t know who…”

  “You got an open garage door two doors down and open front doors on either side of you,” I said. “Cop two blocks back, just rolling around, checking the neighborhood. I’m doing you a favor. Paul.”

  He craned his neck, looking past me to see if I was lying.

  I wasn’t and he recognized it.

  He pushed opened the screen door and we entered the house.

  The air in the house was humid and smelled of sweat. The hum of a swamp cooler buzzed in my ears, but it wasn’t doing much cooling. The living room was furnished with things that looked like they’d been picked up at a garage sale—a torn up sofa, a beat up chair, a chipped wooden coffee table. A massive flat screen TV was the only new thing in the room.

  Another guy was lounging on the beat up chair, staring at the TV and his head rolled in our direction. “What’s up, Bella?”

  “Hey, Greg.”

  He held up a hand meant for me. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I looked at Paul. “Whose got the money?”

  Paul hesitated, then disappeared down a hallway.

  Bella set the bag on the table. “Same as always.”