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We had our fair share of hurricanes. But aside from that, nothing bad ever happened in Ocracoke.
I thought it’d be different this time around.
I thought I’d be different.
But you know what they say about coming home again…
It fucking blows.
I watched the last of the tourists head down the highway toward the shops and restaurants and wondered how it would feel to drive down those streets and not know all its dirty little secrets. To get off that ferry and learn about the history and beauty of this place without feeling the burden of keeping it safe.
But I was not a tourist. I was not native, and when I looked around Ocracoke, all I saw were memories and regret.
I opened a bag of chips and started to pull a handful out when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar car pull into the lot and park.
Well, try to park.
The car had sort of haphazardly scooted into a parking spot, barely making it between the lines, before coming to an abrupt halt.
I watched with a curious gaze as a man I recognized from town got out and started to fiddle with his keys. He looked down as if he’d never seen them before, going through each of them, one by one.
Finally, he picked the one he wanted, holding it out in front of him, inspecting it for much too long.
What the hell is he doing?
He turned back toward his car, and his hand moved toward the door handle. He shoved the key in, a vain attempt to lock it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Wrong key, asshat,” I muttered as I watched him try again and fail.
I grumbled under my breath, knowing it was now time for me to intervene. Setting the remnants of my lunch aside, I let out a groan and pushed the door open.
This guy was an old friend of my dad, and while, in most families, that might make this a pleasant exchange, in mine, it just made it fucking awkward.
My dad didn’t really have actual friends. Just drinking buddies and people he weaseled out of money.
And usually, they were one and the same.
I’d said I was bored, but this was not what I’d had in mind.
Stepping out of the car, I ran a hand through my sandy brown hair as the wind tried to toss it in my face.
I made a point of shutting the car door with a bit of force, hoping the sound would alert him of my presence. I didn’t like sneaking up on people if I didn’t have to.
It seemed to work. His eyes turned and found mine, and although he tried to hide it, I saw them widen ever so slightly.
“Hey, Raymond,” I said, nodding my head in his direction.
“Oh, hey, Macon. Um, Green—I mean, Deputy Green.”
For the older folks who had been around since I had been a kid, they never knew how to address me. Some still called me by my first name. Others tried to show me respect and called me by my official title. It was technically Captain Green, but whatever. I honestly couldn’t give two shits what any of them called me as long as they didn’t end up in the back of my cruiser.
Unfortunately for this guy, he had done just that on multiple occasions, and I was afraid he was about to get another stamp on that imaginary frequent flyer card he seemed to be working on.
I folded my arms across my broad chest as his eyes tried to avoid mine. “Saw you having a bit of trouble with your keys. Figured I’d come over and see if you needed some help. You haven’t been drinking again, have you?”
I’d learned to not beat around the bush with Ray. He was a world class expert in bullshit.
“Oh, no, Macon. I’m clean,” he assured me. “Been so for a long while.”
