by R. D. Brady
“You okay, kid?”
The boy shook his head, his eyes wide. “I can’t get down.”
Steve looked around. “Um, should I get someone?”
The boy shook his head again, and Steve could hear the tears in his voice. “No. If my brother finds out—” The boy didn’t complete the rest of the sentence, but Steve got the drift. He looked around again. No one. Oh crap.
“Okay, I’m coming up.” Steve grabbed the lowest branch and pulled himself up.
It had been almost twenty years since he’d climbed a tree. He didn’t remember it being this difficult or scary. Then he realized why: it was easier to climb when you were small and completely unaware of gravity. The wind pushed and pulled at Steve as he climbed higher. He swallowed, glanced down, and wished he hadn’t.
“Careful,” the boy called out as Steve’s foot slipped.
Heart pounding, Steve held tightly to the branch above him. Giving himself a moment, he looked up at the boy. “What are you doing up here anyway?”
“My brother and his friends said I was too small to climb it.”
Steve nodded. Boys and their stupid dares. “Well as far as I can tell, you did climb it. They didn’t say anything about climbing down, did they?”
The boy shook his head, and a smile broke across his face. “No, they didn’t. You won’t tell, will you?”
Steve started to climb again. “Your secret is safe with me.” He pulled himself up to the branch the boy was on. “What’s your name?”
“Micah.”
“Hi, Micah. I’m Steve.”
“I know. Everybody knows who you are.”
Steve sighed. Oh, good. My return is already common knowledge. “Well, why don’t you inch back this way and we’ll get out of here?”
Micah slid himself carefully toward Steve. Steve reached out his hand when Micah was close and pulled him over. Micah threw his arms around Steve and hugged him tight.
Momentarily stunned, Steve went still. Then his arms closed around the trembling boy. He patted him on the back. “It’s okay. You’re all right now.”
Micah nodded into Steve’s chest but didn’t seem inclined to let Steve go.
Steve patted him on the back one more time before pulling him away. He looked into pale green eyes that stared back at him from a mixed-race face. Mocha skin and a slight slant to his eyes suggested a black and Asian heritage.
“Okay, Micah. Why don’t you hop on my back and we’ll get out of here?”
Micah carefully climbed around Steve, placed his arms around Steve’s neck, and squeezed tight.
Steve tapped Micah’s arms. “Maybe loosen up just a little bit.”
“Sorry,” Micah mumbled, and he released some of the pressure on Steve’s neck.
“Here we go.” Steve stepped down to the next branch, careful to keep his weight forward. Luckily, the wind died down just then and the climb down was uneventful. Less than two minutes later, Steve stepped onto the ground. He knelt down and Micah clambered off.
“All good,” Steve said, standing.
Micah looked up at him. “Thanks. You’re nice.”
Steve nearly laughed. If only the rest of the town were so easy to convince. He pictured everyone in town getting caught in a tree. Steve could go around and rescue them all one by one and everyone would like him again.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Steve said.
Steve turned to go, and Micah fell in step next to him. “How come you killed that girl?”
Steve glanced down in surprise, stunned yet again. “Um, I didn’t.”
Micah nodded his head so hard Steve worried it might roll off his shoulders. “That’s what I thought. You’re too nice. My brother and his friends said you were real dangerous. Said you would kill someone as soon as look at them.”
Great. “So how come you’re talking to me?”
Micah shrugged again. “You don’t look like you killed anybody.”
“Yeah? And what do people who kill people look like?”
Micah paused for a moment. “I guess they have blood on them.”
“What if they killed the person a long time ago?”
Micah looked at him, uncertain. “I guess they look mean. And you don’t look mean.”
Steve smiled. If only the jury had thought the same way. Steve wasn’t sure what to say to the kid, so he stayed quiet. Micah didn’t seem to mind. He babbled on about the kids at school, his mom’s meatloaf, which apparently he hated, and the fact that his dad worked too much to come see him and his brother very often.
Steve stopped in front of his grandmother’s house and looked down at Micah. “So I told them that I could too climb that tree,” Micah said.
“Well, you did.”
Micah beamed. “Yeah, I did.” Then his smile slid away. “You won’t tell anyone I didn’t climb down, will you?”
Steve shook his head. “Nope. Not a soul.”
Micah’s smile returned. “Thanks. See you later.” Micah ran back down the street.
Steve watched him cross the street and go up a path four houses down. He shook his head. Cute kid. He smiled as he thought about Micah’s non-stop conversation. Well, at least not everyone in this town hates me.
CHAPTER 13
The wind shook Declan’s car as he pulled into the parking lot at Mel’s diner. He turned off the engine, leaned on the steering wheel, and stared up at the darkening sky before turning his attention to the water in the distance. Along the shore, trees swayed violently. Water plumed in the air in angry bursts.
A feeling of dread settled in the base of his stomach. Oh, this is not going to be good.
A patron from the diner opened the door and fought the wind to her car. Declan had promised Bess he’d bring dessert, and he thought one of Mel’s lemon meringue pies would be just the thing. So he’d called earlier today, and Mel promised to have one ready for him.
Steeling himself, he pushed open the car door. The wind immediately wrenched it out of his hand. When he stepped out, the wind practically blew him over. It took him a few long seconds to wrestle the car door shut again. Then he hurried over to the diner entrance, his unzipped jacket snapping in the wind.
The bell above the door jangled as he pushed through. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and smooth down his hair. Man, that wind got fierce.
Only a few of the tables were taken, and a few of the stools. Mel’s was usually busier at this time. Everyone’s probably home getting ready for the storm.
Mel appeared from the kitchen, pushing through the doors behind the counter, a plate balanced in each hand. Catching sight of Declan, he smiled. “Hey, Declan. How you doing?”
Mel was pushing sixty and had owned the diner for the last thirty years. He was about five ten and had a strong build—a remnant of his Navy days. He used to keep his hair cut close, too, but nature had taken care of that for him now. His bald head gleamed in the diner’s bright lights.
Declan walked over and took a seat at the counter. “I’m good.”
Mel dropped off the plate farther down the counter before coming back to stand in front of Declan.
“How are you doing, Mel?” Declan asked.
Mel shrugged, picking up the coffee pot from the burner behind the counter. “Can’t complain. We were pretty busy for most of the day, although it’s slacked off some. Coffee?”
Declan nodded, flipping over the cup in front of him. Mel filled it up. Declan smiled as the smell reached him.
Mel replaced the coffee pot back on the burner. “I’ll grab that pie for you as soon as I get these orders out.”
Declan took a sip and sighed, feeling the warmth course through him. The storm had brought a big dip in the temperature, and Declan hadn’t been prepared for it. “Take your time. I’m enjoying my coffee.”
“It’ll be just a few.” Mel hustled back into the kitchen.
Declan looked back out the window. Did the bridge just move? He narrowed his eyes and stared before shaking his h
ead. Must be the storm playing tricks with my eyes. He took another sip. Well, at least Steve’s first day went well. When he’d spoken with Bess, she’d made it sound like everything was perfect. And while Declan seriously doubted that raging optimism, it did mean there probably hadn’t been any huge issues.
He felt a little weight lift off his shoulders at the thought. He knew Steve was a man, but Declan just wanted his transition to be as bump-free as possible.
The bell above the door jangled again. Russ pushed through, stopping in the entryway to look around. Catching sight of Declan, he nodded with a smile and headed over.
Declan returned the smile, inwardly shaking his head. Russ never seemed to understand that town cops and state cops were supposed to butt heads. Declan had asked Russ about it one day, and Russ had looked completely confused. “Why would I do that? You’re trying to help and I’m trying to help. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”
Not for the first time, Declan hoped that Russ would consider running for Chief sometime in the near future. The town could use some of his open-mindedness.
Russ took a seat next to him. Declan took one look at him and reached over the counter for the coffee pot. Russ flipped over the cup in front of him.
Declan poured him a cup. “You look like you could use it.”
Russ poured a small mountain of sugar in it and added a dash of milk. He took a sip with a grimace. “God, I hate coffee.”
Declan let out a laugh. “So why do you drink it?”
Russ shrugged. “I’m a cop. I’m pretty sure we’re required to drink it.”
“How’s it going?”
Russ shook his head. “It’s crazy. People are losing it. Mrs. Beale over on High Street accused the Schroeders of stealing her mums.”
“Did they?”
“Well, seeing as the Schroeders moved away twenty years ago, I doubt it. Mrs. Beale suffers from dementia. Her kids were supposed to come back to town and grab her before the storm, but unsurprisingly they didn’t. Luckily her neighbors agreed to take her in. She’s been fine for the most part, but the storm’s setting her off.” Russ paused. “And just about everybody else.”
“Storms will do that.”
“Oh, there’s also a missing teenager.”
“What? Who?”
“Elise Ingram. She never showed up home after work.”
“Any ideas?”
“She’s run away before and has a boyfriend over on the mainland. But her friends say she was supposed to meet up with them and never showed. That’s not like her.”
A missing teenager just when Steve shows up in town. Damn it. But Declan also knew that with a missing teenager, it was usually a case of simple running away, not some sort of abduction. “What are you guys doing about it?”
“The regular—calls to the boyfriend, a BOLO. But she’s eighteen. We can’t really do much more than that, at least not yet. And with the storm…”
Declan shook his head. “I’m surprised the governor didn’t call for an evacuation. With the reports, it looks like it might even be worse than originally forecasted.”
Russ shifted his eyes away and stared at his cup.
A feeling of dread began to build inside Declan. “Russ? The governor didn’t order an evacuation, did he?”
Russ sighed. “It wasn’t an order so much as a strong suggestion—at least that’s how the chief is taking it.”
“The chief? Why is he calling the shots? What about the mayor?”
“Mayor Do-Nothing? He’s out of town. As soon as he heard about the storm, he took off with his family. Left Keith in charge.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Is Keith at least going to tell the town?”
“I don’t think so. I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he gets.”
Mel bustled in from the kitchen, two more plates in hand, a pie box dangling from his fingertips. He dropped the plates off at another table and headed back to Declan. “Here you go. Hey, Russ.”
“Hey, Mel.”
“What do I owe you?” Declan asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.
Mel waved his money away, his cheeks growing redder. “It’s on me. Tell Bess I said hello.”
Declan had always suspected Mel was a little sweet on Bess. Looks like he was right.
Declan slid off the stool. “I’ll do that. And thanks.” He turned to Russ. “Be careful out there. And if you need anything, you give me a call.”
“Will do,” Russ said, grimacing as he took another sip of coffee.
Declan headed for the door, his thoughts heavy with the upcoming storm. Keith was an idiot. When he pushed open the diner door, a gust of wind nearly tore the pie box from his hands. He cradled it to his chest like a football as he made his way to the car. Damn, that wind’s getting really strong.
The wind almost yanked the passenger door from his hand as he opened it. He carefully placed the box on the floor, then wrestled the door shut. He walked around to the driver’s side, shaking his head. If this is the pre-storm, the actual storm is going to be a monster.
A groan of metal snapped his attention to the bridge. What the hell was that?
He peered at the old bridge, and there was a sinking feeling in his chest. Was he seeing things, or was the bridge actually shaking? He watched for a long minute until the wind gusted again. This time he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light. There was definitely a tremor in the metal.
God damn you, Keith, Declan cursed as he pulled out his phone. There had to be a way to go over Keith’s head. It was already past five o’clock though. He glanced at the darkening sky and at the bridge as he dialed.
The bridge gave another shudder.
Declan listened to the call ring out. Come on, someone pick up. But he knew that even if someone did pick up, it might already be too late.
CHAPTER 14
The smell of lasagna greeted Steve as he walked in his front door. His grandmother’s cooking was so far the one thing that had thoroughly lived up to, if not surpassed, his memories. He tossed his jacket over the banister, then backtracked and hung it in the closet.
Walking into the kitchen, he took a deep breath. “Now that smells delicious.”
His grandmother placed the silverware on the table. “Wash your hands. It’ll be ready any minute.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, turning around.
As he headed toward the bathroom, the phone rang. Spying it on the table next to the stairs, he called out, “I’ll get it.”
“No, Steve. I—”
Steve picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Murderer,” a voice hissed. “They should have put you to death. If they won’t do it, I will.” Click. The call was disconnected.
Steve pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. Slowly he turned to his grandmother, who was wringing a potholder in her hands. “Now, Steve—”
He cut her off. “How often have you been getting these?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Not very often.”
He knew she was lying. She lied so badly even a child could tell. “Grandma, have you been threatened?”
“Steven James Kane, you listen to me. I don’t care about a bunch of redneck idiots. I care about you. I can handle a few phone calls. You’ve had much more to—” The rest of her words were choked off, and there was a tremble in her chin. Taking a steadying breath, she continued, “You’ve had to endure more. And I would endure tenfold these calls to have you home. So you just go wash your hands and get ready for dinner and forget about that.”
Steve looked at his grandmother, the strongest woman he knew. A feeling of tenderness washed over him. “I love you, Gran.”
She smiled back at him. “I love you more.”
He grinned at the familiar exchange, but then his smile faded. “But I don’t like you having to put up with these calls.”
“The Lord doesn’t give us any more than we can handle,” she declared before heading back into the kitchen.
Steve watched her go, noticing her shoulders were a little more bent—her gait a little slower than he remembered. I’m not so sure about that, he thought.
The idea of someone threatening his grandmother… Steve took a deep breath. No. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He’d talk to Jack and Declan. Make sure they knew what was going on.
CHAPTER 15
An hour later, the phone call was still on Steve’s mind, but he thought he had put on a good show in front of his grandmother. He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “That was delicious.”
Declan grinned at him. “Which serving? One or two?”
Steve pretended to ponder the question for a moment. “I’m going to go with two. It seemed to have a little more time to settle.”
Declan laughed, pushing his chair away from the table and looking across the table. “Bess, it’s a good thing I don’t come into town more often. Eating like this, they’d have to roll me into my car.”
Bess smiled. “You could do with a little fattening up. And any time you want a home-cooked meal, you just stop by.”
Steve stood up and started collecting the plates, but Bess shooed the two men toward the living room. “You two go chat. I’ll get the dishes.”
“Gran…” Steve said.
She fixed both of them with the look. “Out—both of you. Shoo.”
Declan grinned at Steve before heading for the living room. “I know better than to argue with her.”
Shaking his head, Steve followed.
Declan took a seat on the couch. Steve sat on his grandfather’s old recliner. Through the window, he could see the wind whipping through the trees. The rain had begun about an hour ago.
“It’s started,” he said.
“Yeah.” Declan sighed.
Steve looked over at him. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
Declan leaned back. “The governor ordered us to evacuate. Keith decided to ignore the order.”
“You’re kidding.” Steve shook his head. Of course Keith overrode the evacuation order. That was just like Keith. “Is it really going to be that bad?”
