by Tia Fielding
“Nice to meet you.” Makai nodded at the kid and went on his way to look for something easy to make for the next few days.
He would head to the cottage he’d bought as soon as he was out of the store and had a feeling that once he’d kicked the real estate guy out of his property, Makai wouldn’t want to see people anytime soon. That’s one thing jail taught you. Having people around constantly was a double-edged sword. For one, you were never completely alone, and you started to crave that, but unless you were put in solitary, you were left craving and hoping. Then, after a while in solitary, you’d want back to people, shitty as they often were.
He’d also learned more about how important routine became while locked up, and how not having one could freak you out after getting out of the prison system. Makai’s mom had told him to find a middle way somehow, and he would try that. As soon as he got to the point where he didn’t feel his skin crawling when exposed to too many people.
While he familiarized himself with the shop and gathered goods into his cart, the bell above the door chimed a couple of times. He was picking what cereal he wanted to buy, when the sound of running came to him, and a child, maybe four years old, came barreling around the corner.
Makai blinked and flattened himself against the shelves when the kid didn’t seem to be able to stop and flailed into the aisle.
Then the child—Makai couldn’t tell if they were a girl or a boy or maybe something in between like one of his cellmates—finally came to a halt, panted loudly, and then looked up with comically widened eyes.
“Oh wow.” Their voice sounded awed. “Are you a giant?”
Makai grinned and crouched closer to their level. “No, I’m just really, really tall. Maybe I had a giant ancestor, though?”
“What’s an ancestor?” The child tugged at their long hair and swayed on their feet, looking at Makai curiously.
“It’s like a grandpa’s grandpa’s grandpa or something. Really long time ago.”
The kid looked thoughtful, then glanced past Makai and brightened up. “Mom! He says his grandpa was a giant!”
Makai smiled slightly and turned his head. A pretty, albeit harried-looking woman pushing a cart looked at him with mixture of amusement and some healthy suspicion.
“Joy, what are you doing running around like that,” she asked the child in a tone that suggested this was an ongoing struggle.
“I wasn’t running!” the child insisted, looking at Makai with wide eyes that begged for him to agree.
“Uh, Joy wasn’t running, I swear!” Makai lifted a hand like he once had in a courtroom.
“It’s J-O-I-E,” the child told him and then tilted their head and added. “It’s a boy day today, so you can call me J-O-E-Y.”
“Okay.” Makai nodded seriously. Then he held out a hand toward the boy. “I’m Makai. M-A-K-A-I. Nice to meet you, Joey.”
They shook hands, and when Makai looked at the mom again, she seemed choked up. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and Makai understood.
He got to his feet and slowly walked the few steps to her and held out his hand. “Hi, nice to meet you too, Joey’s mom.” He smiled at her.
“I’m Lotte, L-O-T-T-E.” She let out a stuttery chuckle.
“Hi, Lotte.”
“Mooooom, can we get Cheerios?” Joie was pointing at the box near his head.
“Sure, baby. Just grab it and bring it over.” She looked at Makai and sighed. “So, you’re the new guy?”
“Does the whole town know I’m moving here?” Makai asked, although he knew the answer already.
“Oh yes. You’ve been the biggest talk in town since you contacted Mr. Kelly and the word got out.” Makai frowned, which made Lotte flap her hand quickly. “Oh no, he didn’t say anything. He’s surprisingly professional for a prejudiced old fart. It was his wife who saw your name and made the connection and….” Lotte shrugged apologetically.
“Right. It’s hard to hide with a name like mine,” Makai said, sighing. His story had made the news. After all, people didn’t get exonerated for murder every day. He wasn’t surprised that an inquisitive person who followed the news on such things would recognize his name. He wondered if the townspeople knew he’d had family here, once.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. The whole town is surprisingly open-minded, though. Even some of the old folks are good with Joey and others who aren’t exactly like everyone else around here.” She smiled at him. “I think you’ll fit right in.”
“Eventually maybe, yeah.” Makai tried to force positivity in his tone.
Lotte perked up. “But hey, you’re our closest neighbor. Still about half a mile from us by road, but we’re across the lake from you.”
“Oh? Well that’s nice.” Makai smiled, finding that he felt genuinely pleased about this. “I have only seen photos of the property, but it seems lovely there.”
“It really is. My ex-husband’s family owned the house we live in. I got it in the divorce couple of years ago. It’s been good to stick around.”
Makai nodded. “Silver linings?”
“Oh definitely.” She chuckled.
“Mom, can we go now?” Joey’s tone was getting impatient.
“Sure, sure. If you need anything, you know where to find us,” Lotte said and pushed her cart past Makai and his cart.
“Yeah, same goes the other way. I can fix stuff, if there’s an emergency or anything,” he told her back, and she waved over her shoulder, smiling.
“Thanks, Makai!”
MAKAI TURNED right where the map had indicated he should, and it looked like there would be two more crossroads before he’d be on the road to his cottage. He was on time, at least he thought so. There hadn’t been a set time with the real estate guy—an old prejudiced fart, Lotte had called him, charming—just an agreement to see him at the cottage after Makai’s meeting with the sheriff.
He found the cottage easily, even though the last bit of road was well hidden and long grass was growing in the middle. At least it didn’t have many bumps, otherwise Makai’s sturdy but used truck might have not made it.
The road led him from inside the woods into a clearing where the cottage stood. There was an SUV parked nearby, and Makai picked a random spot to park the truck.
The cottage was pretty much how he’d imagined it based on the pictures, including the light cream color Makai thought he would like to change to something else over time. The door was closed, so he rounded the building.
The backyard had grown into a mess of neglect and hid a patch that must’ve been a vegetable garden once. Since he couldn’t hear anything and was sure Mr. Kelly would’ve heard his truck if he was inside the cottage, he started toward the path that led slightly downward to the lake.
As soon as he was in the highest point of his little yard, the lake came into view below. An old dock made home on his side, and what he thought must’ve been Lotte and Joie’s house sat on the opposite side.
A man who could only be Mr. Kelly stood at the shore, looking at the slightly rippling water. He turned around and noticed Makai.
“Oh, hello! You stay there and I’ll join you!” he called out and started the short trek up.
Without anything to do except wait, Makai walked along the edge of the backyard until he met Mr. Kelly by the cottage.
“Mr. Stone, nice to meet you!” Mr. Kelly said and vigorously shook Makai’s hand.
“Mr. Kelly, I presume,” he replied dryly.
“Yes, yes! Let’s see, there’s some paperwork you need to sign and get copies of, and keys, yes, mustn’t forget the keys,” Mr. Kelly rambled on in a distracted tone as he waddled to the front yard. Makai assumed he had his suitcase in the car and was proven right soon.
The man beamed at him and gestured at the cottage. “Would you like a tour or to look around by yourself?”
“Uh, I think I’m pretty much done with people for today, so I’ll explore by myself. Thank you, though,” he tagged to the end, just to be polite.
&nbs
p; “Alrighty, I can understand that!”
Makai signed the paperwork, got his copies and a hefty set of keys.
“Now these are to the front door, this one is for the shed, and there’s an old root cellar on the other side of the yard there.” Mr. Kelly pointed vaguely. “The boat shed on the shore is in a bad condition. I wouldn’t even go inside, but that, too, had a lock at some point, so that’s why there are so many keys.”
“Okay. Sounds good to me. Thank you again,” Makai said and went to shake hands.
Mr. Kelly held on to his hand and looked at him with a sort of benevolent expression, and already Makai knew he wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“It’s so nice to see someone like you buy property, you know. So nice.”
Finally, the man let go, and Makai gritted his teeth to keep from blurting out something he shouldn’t. “Well, if there’s anything wrong, I assume I can call you?”
“Yes, yes, there’s my card tacked onto the papers. Give me a call if you need anything.”
“Okay, well, thanks, and I’ll see you around,” Makai said and watched as the real estate agent got into his SUV and drove off.
Someone like you. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Kelly had meant someone who’d done some serious time or just someone brown, but he didn’t care much for either implication. Casual racism was so fucked-up. It wasn’t like the man had even realized he was saying anything negative, on the contrary. Jesus.
Makai rolled his shoulders and took in a deep breath of clean air. He looked at the cottage and smiled. Chuckling under his breath, he went to open the door.
THE COTTAGE was quite basic, with the front door near the corner of the living area. There was a window on the left and under it a small table. Behind that, in the opposite corner, an open door led to what the real estate agent had said was a utility room.
On the right a closet stood against a wall, and when Makai turned around it, a kitchen opened into the living area. There had been a wall between the kitchen and the rest of the living room, but Mr. Kelly had said that knocking down the wall had been the last bit of renovation the children of the last owners had done five or so years ago.
The kitchen slash living area had a fireplace and space for a couch and the small table. Makai thought he needed to build some shelves for his books, as there was one rickety-looking old thing against a wall, and that just wouldn’t do, not when he could get all the books he wanted now.
The bedroom was small, and he’d need to get a proper bed instead of the ancient foldout. He guessed there would be a shop in Mercer or the closest bigger town, Woodruff, that delivered. He’d also have to build a dresser for himself, because there was an obvious space where one had been, including a paler spot in the old wallpaper.
The bathroom could be accessed through the bedroom, making an illusion of a master bath. Just like the rest of the cottage, the space was basic but surprisingly big. Probably because the tub had been replaced by a shower and the sink stood alone without a counter and didn’t take much space. The small window faced the forest, and Makai thought it would be good ventilation for the bathroom.
Just like in the kitchen, he opened the taps in the bathroom, too, and found that after the initial cough, they worked just fine. Perfect.
Next, he made sure the old refrigerator was cold enough to store his food, and looked around in the kitchen, sighing at the amount of dusting and wiping everything he’d have to do.
“Cleaning supplies….” He felt like face-palming. He hadn’t gotten any cleaning supplies.
He needed to start a list. At least the old coffee maker in the kitchen was in working order, and after wiping it down with water and ancient dish soap and running three pots of water through it, he deemed it clean enough to make fresh coffee.
Through the power of caffeine and some sandwiches, he managed to get himself going again. He went to check out the shed where he planned to make his woodworking space and ended up spending most of the evening clearing it up and planning on where to put the little tools he had.
When he finally decided to call it a day and worry about the rest tomorrow, he showered, changed into some comfortable pajama pants, and heated up some soup for himself. It really wasn’t enough for a man his size, but he was used to getting by with little when need be. Besides, he was going to go shopping for more food and everything else he needed anyway, so he’d just eat out tomorrow while he was in town.
He walked outside after eating and padded around the backyard, feeling the grass and pine needles under his bare feet. Smiling, he looked over the water to the lights that were still on at Lotte and Joie’s.
The silence was deafening, and he loved it.
At least right until he saw a shadow from the corner of his eye and yelped. Whirling around, Makai looked for whatever it had been.
A soft, tentative meow made the culprit obvious. A small gray cat with a huge round belly sat in the light pouring out of his open door.
“You are a cat,” he said, then snorted softly at himself. “You’re also very pregnant.”
The cat tilted her head as if he was stating the obvious. Then she made another pitiful sound, a mew more than a meow.
“Okay, I think I bought some tuna, you can have that.”
And that’s how a cat adopted Makai and how he ended up falling asleep to the sound of loud purring instead of the silence. Definitely beat a cellmate’s snoring.
Chapter Two
EMIL FLEXED his fingers as much as he could and grimaced. Both hands were achy today, and he couldn’t remember what he’d done to deserve it. Normally, after five years, they only hurt after he’d strained them, and sometimes with severe changes in the barometric pressure.
Shrugging mentally, he changed the song on his playlist to something more upbeat to combat the pain and continued the walk toward the Sheriff’s Station. He had a thing he needed to show his dad, and he hoped to catch him at his workplace, because by the time the workday was over for the sheriff, Emil would be too exhausted to deal with people, even his family.
Because it was early June, everywhere started to look greener, and the businesses along the road crossing town had flowers in the pots they’d hauled outside in the last week or so. Emil waved at Mrs. Miller who waved back, but didn’t make long eye contact and definitely didn’t cross the road to her. He had a mission, after all.
He rounded the corner and saw two of Dad’s deputies smoking in the staff parking lot. Quickly, he switched off the music and steeled himself just a little bit.
“Hey, Emil,” Jason said, nodding at him.
“Hi. Is my dad around?” he asked, avoiding looking the other deputy, Mark, in the eye. He didn’t like Mark much, not when he knew the guy was homophobic as fuck. Sadly, he was also really good at his job and never crossed the lines of being outright hostile toward Emil. If he’d been blatantly rude or obvious to anyone, his dad would’ve gotten rid of him by now.
“Yeah, he’s inside.” Jason dropped his cigarette butt and ground it down with his heel, then picked it up and tossed it in the tin can by the employee entrance to the building. “You can come through here.” He went up the few stairs and pushed the door open.
Emil hoped his dad didn’t know the guys propped the door open for their smoke breaks. It was supposed to be closed and locked at all times.
“Sure,” he murmured and went in, then followed Jason through the back hallway to the bull pen door and went in while Jason walked on to the locker room.
All through his life, Emil had been inside this station enough times to know the layout with his eyes closed. At first, his dad had been a deputy, but then, by the time Emil was thirteen, he’d been elected sheriff and then reelected each time it came up to vote. Nobody local or even anyone from Mercer would go up against Sheriff Kalle Newman because they knew they’d lose.
Sure, there’d been the odd outsider who had seen that a spot was open and they’d come in and tried to campaign, and then soon they’d run off with th
eir tails between their legs. Yeah, Emil was proud of his dad being the guy he was, even if sometimes it affected their personal relationship.
“Hey, Emil,” the only female deputy, Erin Peters, said brightly from her desk.
“Hey, E. How’s it going?” Emil couldn’t help but to smile at her. She was the sister of his shrink, Evy, and the women couldn’t be more different if they’d tried. Emil liked them both, though.
“It’s okay. Been a good week so far,” she said and seemingly without realizing, reached a hand to rap her knuckles on the wooden desk.
“Dad in?” Emil asked, even though he could see him inside his office through the slits of the blinds.
“Yeah, go on in.”
Someone walked in through the front doors of the station, and Erin went to the front desk to greet them while Emil quickly made his way to the office door. He knocked and slipped inside before whomever it was that had come in could notice him or demand his dad’s time.
“Hey, son, what’s up?”
“Hi, Dad. Uh, I found something online and I need to talk about it?” Emil went to sit in the visitor’s chair and hated how his words had sounded like a question.
Luckily his dad ignored it. “Sure, what is it?” he asked, closing the folder he’d been going through and looking at Emil expectantly.
Emil dug out the printed papers from his messenger bag and took in a deep breath. He held them out for his father to take and leaned back, forcing himself to relax.
“So, you know how the physio guy said splints might help, but, like, I didn’t like the ones I got back then?” He’d hated the bulky things, and he’d hated the less bulky ones, too. “I… I talked with Evy, and I think part of it was that I….” He trailed off and sighed, looking at anywhere but his dad or his own hands.
Dad said nothing, he just looked through the silver finger splints and the price list too. Kalle Newman was great at interrogating people, and Emil wasn’t new to his silence tactics.
“I know they’re expensive, and I’d likely need at least four or five, depending on—but I think they’re—” He just couldn’t make himself say it out loud.
