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PROLOGUE
It was so damn hot.
I brushed the sweat off my brow, wishing like hell I had chosen to take my lunch break somewhere air-conditioned rather than in the belly of my cruiser.
But as much as I hated the heat, I loved the silence.
All five minutes of it.
The eager tourists disembarked from the ferry in droves. I watched as each car rolled off, their wheels hitting the hot pavement as they made their way onto Highway 12. Soon, they’d descend on our little town, buying everything from tacky keychains to local artwork.
Right now, however, they were doing their best to ignore me, and they were hoping I’d do the same.
Everyone always recognized the standard blue and white hues that embodied Ocracoke’s patrol cars. When I had been young, the sight of it alone made me stop in my tracks.
Of course, in my family, it was never me they chased after.
But that had been a long time ago, and now, I was the one behind the wheel.
The tourists continued their way down the highway, every one of them driving with extra caution.
They had nothing to worry about. I wasn’t here for them anyway.
Leaning back in my seat, I gazed across the bright blue sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of the other side. I squinted, trying to turn my attention away from the many tourists and their minivans.
Away from this island and all its bullshit.
But all I saw was water. It was all I ever saw. Nothing but fucking water.
Letting out a sigh, I took another bite of the turkey and rye I’d bought from a local place down the street and tried to settle my thoughts.
I’d known moving back here would be an adjustment.
But recently, it had been like living in my own personal prison.
After high school, the military had seemed like an obvious choice. It gave me the only thing I wanted more than anything—a way out.
My pivot into the police force had been a strategic choice and I’d never really planned on ever returning to my hometown.
I’d grown up here. I knew what it was like.
But I’d come back anyway.
For a while, it’d been good.
Real good.
But now, here I was, staring out at the ocean, eating a dry sandwich, wondering what the rest of the world was doing, while counting down the hours until my shift was up.
Usually, the busy summer months kept me fairly occupied. But lately, even the tourists had been on their best behavior.
Everyone was thankful for a safe town, but the days were really starting to drag.
So far today, I’d given a couple of warnings to some kids who had been cruising down the main drag in a golf cart they were clearly not old enough to be in. I’d received a call from a local woman, complaining about a renter’s dog and the unwelcome presents it was leaving in her yard.
And I’d given a lift home to a teen who was having a rough day.
I’d been back for two years, and every day was pretty much the same.
