First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “Uh-huh.” If only he knew the truth about his perfect son.

  “Did you say something?”

  “I just agreed.”

  “He’s proud of you too. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Mom.”

  “You’re amazing. I could never learn all those languages. And now you’ve taken on so many clients. I saw that book you translated on a shelf in Barnes & Noble last weekend. I forgot to tell you.”

  “The Joys of Baker Holly? In French?”

  “Oh, no. It was in English. But it’s the book you translated into French, right?”

  “Yep. That’s the book. Cool. So, tell me about that pottery class you’re taking.”

  After hanging up, with me promising once again I’d come to visit soon, I powered up my laptop to read my perfect brother’s request. If Mom and Dad knew how in over his head he’d gotten, they wouldn’t be gushing. But they didn’t know, because I’d helped him keep his secrets. That shit owed me an explanation. He’d told me it wasn’t safe for me to visit Mom and Dad…yet he did it? If he wasn’t a Jujitsu master, I’d strangle him the next time I saw him. I read through the little turd’s text from an unidentified number. Most likely another burner phone. I replied with a snarky, not completely in code response…

  * * *

  Bite me.

  * * *

  Since I needed more processing speed than I had here, I set Nym up on his bed with a kiss to the top of his head, gathered my laptop, turned my phone off, locked up the house, and under the cover of night, slipped out the basement door.

  Chapter 5

  Logan

  * * *

  “Okay. I think we’re in a good place. I had Patrice retrieve the annual budget numbers. I like this IT bit you put in the deck. Cybercrime. Nice touch.” Prepared for Chad to drone on, I relaxed back in my chair and tapped my index finger on the desk. The time count on my phone showed twenty-seven minutes. “All right. I think it’s good. I drive to Raleigh this afternoon, and then I’m playing the back nine with Jim tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Are you planning to leave the deck with him?”

  “Yeah. I’ll talk him through it on the course. Get a feel for how serious this matter is. How much pressure he’s getting. You know, he’s got so many advisors right now as he preps for the election. They’re all warning him about different interest groups. It’s got to be hard as hell to know who to listen to, who has good data.”

  “Have they started polling yet for the election?” The election was over a year away. I didn’t follow politics. I preferred the bipartisan stance of the military. We had a mission—to protect and serve. If you focused on the mission, the rest became noise.

  “I’m sure they have. This country is so divided. Every election is like a bloodbath these days.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything else. And Chad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “For god’s sake, don’t beat him tomorrow.”

  “You don’t really think he expects to beat me, do you? I play golf every damn day.”

  “If you win, don’t talk smack.”

  “I would never.”

  “Bye, Chad.”

  I hung up and scanned my to-do list. Returning Matt’s call was the last indoor thing I needed to do. Items on my list fell into one of two columns, indoor or outdoor. Back in Chicago, it wasn’t like this. The open office space with desks back-to-back didn’t feel claustrophobic. In homicide, we spent too much time out of the office. Here on Haven Island, my windowless office could suck the life force out of someone. But outside, the breeze blew and the waves crested. I dialed Matt’s number, and he picked up after one ring.

  “Hi. Thanks for calling me back.” Background noises filtered through. A distant siren, rustling, heavy breathing.

  “Are you exercising?”

  “Ha. No. I’m headed into the Pentagon. I parked in an overflow parking lot.”

  “So that’s you walking?”

  “Shut it. We can’t all take a cushy island job and spend hours a day outside.”

  “You know you took an oath to maintain top physical condition. Getting winded while walking from a parking lot—”

  “I only have a second to talk. Have you noticed anything strange out there?”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything suspicious? Internet going out for no reason?”

  “Spotty Wi-Fi is our normal.”

  “I need to pay you a visit. I want to pick your brain. Is next week okay?”

  “Any time, Matt. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  “I’m going to have my assistant coordinate. He’ll be in touch. Senator Gardner—” Then the line fell silent as he disconnected our call, clearly to address the senator in front of him. Our days couldn’t be more different.

  I checked my watch. By my estimate, Cali would be on her daily run. I didn’t want to be a stalker. I figured a casual run-in, a simple wave, would be a good way to keep the lines of communication open. My phone vibrated.

  Shark attack. South Beach. Close to Shoals Club. Ambulance dispatched.

  Shark. I broke out into a run, and my pulse raced as if I’d been running for thirty minutes, not seconds. The fire engine siren fired off at an ear-deafening decibel. I climbed into the Public Safety pickup, flipped the sirens on, and slammed down on the accelerator. In two years’ time, we’d never had an attack. A couple of sightings, but never an attack.

  Near the public beach access, a crowd gathered around. I arrived as the EMTs raced across the wooden plank to the beach. One slower-moving EMT carried the gurney, and I ran up behind him, lifting the end. He glanced back, and I shouted, “Go!”

  The onlookers broke apart at the sight of the EMTs, and several waved frantically in the air. They backed away, and I hunted for the victim. A young pre-teen male lay on the sand with bright red blood gushing from his leg. Eyes wide, in clear pain, his skin color remained strong. It didn’t look like he’d lost too much blood. Yet. The EMTs bent over his leg for a careful examination, and I stepped past the spectators, scanning the ocean.

  An older man I recognized as a year-rounder stood nearby, and I asked, “Did you see it?”

  He shook his head but pointed out across the waves. “It went that way. Tom saw it. Said it wasn’t that big, but bigger than what we normally see.” He raised his eyebrows with a glance back at the boy. “Clearly.”

  About forty yards out, a narrow fin rose above the dark water. I called Jay, an officer on my team. “Bring out megaphones. We’re clearing the beach for the rest of the day.”

  “I didn’t think we could legally tell people to get out of the water.” Jay didn’t mean to be argumentative. He simply relayed his understanding of our state’s law.

  “No one here knows that.”

  “But—”

  “Jay, bring the megaphones. If anyone complains, we’ll tell them we’re strongly encouraging people to stay out of the ocean for the rest of the day.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Directly in front of us, no swimmers braved the waters. But farther down the beach, I could see two kids jumping waves. I charged toward them, waving my arms at the kids and the parents. The parents lounged in chairs, and the woman had a baseball cap pulled over her forehead.

  “Come on out of the water, kids,” I shouted. They came on out, the youngest pulling a Boogie Board behind him.

  “What’s the chance of two shark attacks in one day?” The man remained seating in his chair, legs sprawled out, feet buried in the sand.

  “Given there’s a shark swimming about forty yards out right now, while I can’t give you a percentage, I’d say it’s possible. But if you don’t mind if your kids lose a limb, by all means, let them stay in the water.”

  His wife shifted in her chair and raised her ball cap.

  “There was a shark attack?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right up the beach.”

  The flashing lights could be seen farther back,
over the dunes, but the sirens had been turned off. Her kids approached.

  “Someone got bit?”

  “Yes. I recommend you remain out of the water. At least for a while. We saw a fin moments ago, not too far away.”

  The boys dropped the board and ran up the beach to the crowd, no doubt hoping for a view of blood.

  As I continued down the beach, scanning for swimmers, I picked up my cell and spoke to Siri, sending out a command to the entire Safety Patrol team.

  “All officers to report to South Beach, east end. Beach patrol until sundown. We are closing the beaches. I repeat, swimmers not allowed for the rest of the day.”

  A distant mechanical whir sounded, and I searched the sky. A navy blue helicopter rose above the tree line.

  Mother fucker. The news.

  The rest of my day passed in a whir of shouting directions and answering phone calls. Every news station on the East Coast and some as far away as California called with inquiries about the shark attack. The communications director wrote up a press release detailing the limited information we had available, and that helped, but it didn’t slow the calls. Especially since that blasted news helicopter located two sharks off the coast and hovered over, presumably tracking and filming the animals.

  Ever since sharks had taken to mating off the coast of North Carolina, we’d known our day would come. Mostly, we saw harmless sand sharks. Small ones that couldn’t do much more than tissue damage. At a nearby beach, a couple of years ago, a swimmer lost a limb.

  As the sun set and the risk of people swimming lowered, we wrapped up beach patrol, and I returned to my desk. The stream of email in my inbox approached insanity. Beside my keyboard, a yellow notepad filled with our communication director’s scribble listed out all the people awaiting a return phone call. Mostly media who wanted to get a quote. Chad’s name topped the list, and she’d circled his name and put three stars by it.

  Hours later, I powered down my desktop computer. My neck ached from craning over the keyboard, and a tight pull pinched when I turned my head right or left. A dull headache pulsed below my brow. I popped two aspirin and called it a day.

  I climbed into my personal cart, eager to head home and crack open a cold beer. The white of the moon shone through the winding tree branches of the inner island. Silvery Spanish moss hung in clusters. The song of the crickets filled the salty night air. The headlights on a lone cart approached. Out of habit, I checked out the passenger as we crossed the divided road.

  Cali’s black hair, tied up on top of her head, came into view. Her tan skin boasted an effervescent glow in the moonlight. I floored my cart to the next crossover and whipped around. The faint red of her brake lights illuminated the dark and turned onto an unmarked road.

  I floored it, then slowed, searching for cart lights. I scanned Market Alley, but all the shops were dark. I turned and drove down the adjacent Purveyor’s Alley. Then out of curiosity drove down Edward Teach Wind and hunted for her along a few of the small office buildings. No headlights, no brake lights anywhere. She must have been flying. I grinned. So, she’s a little speed demon. Of course, a speed demon on a golf cart is a different thing than in a car. Still, she had to be nearby. So, I texted.

  Hey, you just passed me. Where’d you go? Want to meet up for that drink?

  Chapter 6

  Cali

  * * *

  The heavy door rounded the track with a dull, low rumble, gathering speed as it descended to the ground. The plastic bumper hit the concrete floor with a thud. Zero light penetrated the walls. I sucked in my breath and reached an arm out, feeling blindly for the switch. Logically, I knew I was in here alone. This building was safe. But one too many horror movies had me half-expecting a masked man with an unwieldy machete.

  My fingers rubbed the plastic lever, and bright lights lit the narrow stairs. The light confirmed my solitude. A dirty shovel hung on the far wall, along with some rakes and buckets I’d purchased from the hardware store per Erik’s direction to make this look like a storage shed, should any curiosity seekers decide to check it out. My golf cart filled the middle of the concrete floor.

  Erik purchased this metal-sided building shortly after I accepted the tutoring position. Utilities and water, garbage disposal, all the services that keep a town running were situated on this strip. There were also a few small businesses located on parallel streets, the kinds of businesses that required an office space.

  At the time of purchase, there had been one window on the top floor, but Erik had had his team seal the window. The upstairs housed servers and they needed a temperature-controlled environment. And that was how I came to spend hours of my life in a windowless room surrounded by hardware cages.

  I climbed the stairs, and as the upstairs floor came into view, I scanned for feet. Cali, if someone broke in, you would’ve been alerted. Get a grip.

  I wiped my sweaty palm on my thigh. Back in Seattle, I hadn’t been so jumpy. I hated the nervous worrier I’d morphed into, looking over my shoulder, envisioning a gun or ski mask– wearing villain at every turn.

  All the servers hummed along, a series of lights on machines underneath black wired cages. The machines took up one wall of the room. The opposite wall featured a small kitchenette with a microwave, sink and a counter. I added water to a pot and set the plate to boil. My desk, a kitchen table, a foldout sofa, and a beanbag completed the rest of the space.

  As I waited for the water for my tea, I entered my login on my computer, and a wall of monitors came to life. I set my BlackBerry on my desk and clicked back to my brother’s text.

  24.22.0.24.26.9.22.21.6.15

  I stared at the number and rapped my nails against the desk, waiting for my tea. If it weren’t for my brother, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be back home, with my friends. Living a happy, carefree life in a small craftsman rental. My runs would be along the waterfront. But no, my twin pulled me into his mad world. Tiny bubbles ascended in the glass pot. As I waited for the green light, I thought back to the first day it became apparent Mom wasn’t just being overly concerned.

  * * *

  “Hey, wonder twin, guess what?”

  Erik barely shifted, his back hunched over as his fingers flew over the keyboard, his head forward like a turtle. I tugged a chunk of hair.

  “Ew. When was the last time you showered? Grease isn’t a good look for black hair.” He swatted my hand away and resumed typing. I plopped down in a nearby beanbag. “I came by to give you a heads up. Mom and Dad are getting serious about kicking you out of the house.”

  The flurry of fingers on keys continued.

  “Erik? Did you hear me?”

  “They’d never. And you know it.” Given they’d prefer we remained home until we married, he had a point. Which was why it was so extraordinary they’d consider this step.

  “I dunno. I also never thought the day would come they’d see me as the good kid.” He continued to type, and I crawled forward on my hands and knees to get a better look at his screen, expecting to see an interactive game. A machine gun and explosions. Zeitgeist Battle or Overwatch. Instead, the black screen held code blocks. I sat my butt on the floor, closer to Erik, at an angle where I could see both his profile and screen.

  “What’re you working on?”

  “Cecilia. Fucking stop. Get out.”

  “Ouch. Full name usage. Pissy, pissy.” He kept typing. “So, you’re okay if they kick you out?” If Mom was right, and he didn’t come out of his room except to eat… they might not have a choice. I’d assumed Mom had been overly concerned about her precious son, but the whole lack-of-hygiene situation unnerved me.

  Erik pointed to the door without looking at it. “Out.”

  I stared at him, then back at the indecipherable screen. He’d never ordered me from his room. Hell, for ages, we shared a room.

  As I descended the stairs, Mom stood at the base, concern etched around the corners of her light blue eyes.

  “Anything?” she asked.


  “No. Do you know what he’s working on?”

  She shook her head as she sucked in on her bottom lip. “He didn’t talk to you?”

  “No. Something’s off. He’s not playing games.”

  “I told you. Besides, if it was games, you’d be playing with him, right?”

  “I haven’t played games in years, Mom. But no, he’s coding. Maybe it’s a project for school? Maybe he has a deadline coming up? Or a term paper kind of project?” I kept my tone light. Her eyes became glassy, as if she might cry. I squeezed her hand.

  “He’s no longer in school.”

  “What?”

  “Your father and I are going down to meet with the dean to find out more. He violated the student code. But he’s over twenty-one, and he’s been paying his own tuition, so I don’t know if they’ll tell us anything.” My parents believed Erik would be the next Jack Ma, the founder of something enormously successful like Alibaba, or the next Jeff Bezos of Amazon fame. To my parents, Erik was brilliant and successful in all things.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you something like this over the phone.”

  A lone tear fell down her cheek. I’d never seen my mother cry before. The construct of my world shifted. Nothing would again be as it should.

  * * *

  The green light flashed, then changed to red. I poured the steaming water into my ceramic mug, dropped a black tea bag in, added a drop of honey, and returned to my desk to call that pesky brother of mine.

  “You summoned?” I asked when his deep voice growled through the line.

  The sound of fingers clicking on a keyboard rang through. Some things hadn’t changed.

  “Is that my sweatshirt you’re wearing?”

  I waved at the glass globe in the room’s corner and smiled. I’d stolen it from him in undergrad, and he’d only asked me a thousand times if I had it. It now had a hole near the armpit. These days, I rarely wore it and had considered donating it a few times when spring cleaning. A surge of glee that wearing it pissed him off lightened the annoyance eating at me.