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“Ellie.” His voice softened and he looked down at me, water dripping from his bangs. “You’re hurting. There’s no shame in drinking a little to numb your grief, but I can’t let you drive and hurt yourself or someone else.”
“I’m not drunk, Tom.”
“Nevertheless, I’m going to drive you home.” His mouth lifted into a smart-ass grin. “Unless you’d rather I drive you to the police station.”
Some choice. “Fine.”
As soon as we reached the parking lot, the torrential downpour immediately stopped. If Tom noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead, he guided me toward his police cruiser, which was parked next to my beat-up car. Tom opened the passenger door for me. I offered him a tight smile and climbed in. At least he was letting me ride up front.
He made his way around the back of the car and popped the trunk. After he climbed behind the wheel, he tossed me a beach towel. “Here.”
I grabbed it. “I didn’t know towels were standard issue in a police car.”
He chuckled, using another towel to dry his face. “They’re not. But I was a Boy Scout.”
He must have stopped to grab the towels before driving out here. “Why are you being so nice to me, Tom?”
He stopped rubbing his hair with the towel and slowly lowered his hand to his lap. “Maybe we weren’t in the same grade, but we were friends through Claire’s sister.” He paused and tilted his head. “And I know that you’re all alone now that your dad’s gone. You don’t have any grandparents around. No aunts and uncles. No siblings.”
“I have Myra. And Claire.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “But Claire is getting ready for her wedding. And your stepmother is in mourning herself, not to mention all the overtime she’s putting in at the Fort Raleigh visitor center and the bed and breakfast.”
My eyes widened. He must have really been paying attention to my life to know all of that. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“You need someone to keep an eye on you.”
My back stiffened. A few weeks ago someone else had insisted on keeping an eye on me whether I liked it or not. Look how that had turned out. “I can take care of myself.”
“No one’s disputing that. I just feel better watching out for you.”
It was pointless to argue with him so I stared out the windshield as we drove down Highway 64 back to Manteo.
A voice over his police radio broke the silence. “Helmsworth, we got a call about another mutilated dog off of Highway 64.”
Tom’s shoulders stiffened and he cast a sideways glance at me before answering. “Roger. I picked up a stranded driver, and I’m dropping her off in town before I head out there.”
“Roger.” The dispatcher gave Tom the address.
“Mutilated dog?” I asked, my stomach churning with dread. Had the spirits’ campaign of terrorism escalated?
Tom groaned. “As if animals dropping dead all over the island wasn’t bad enough, now something is attacking dogs and ripping their guts out without eating them.”
“What do you think it is?”
Tom’s eyebrows lifted. “Why don’tyoutellme.”
My stomach dropped to the floorboards. “How would I know?”
Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s been a rough few weeks.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
“So, Ellie.” Tom shifted in his seat. “What do you know about the Native American gods?”
Whathadhe heard? I shrugged. “Not much. Why do you ask?”
“Well…” His hand twisted on the steering wheel. “It just seems a little odd for a woman who can practically trace her ancestry back to theMayflowerto be shouting at Algonquian gods.”
