Drift Away (Noah Braddock Mysteries) (23 page)

He squirmed in the seat.

“We clear?” I asked.

“Clear. Man, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. So quit saying it. And one other thing.”

He squirmed some more. “What?”

“Get out of here,” I said. “Get out of Fort Walton. Get out of Destin. Get out of the Panhandle. I don’t care where you go, but get out.”

“Man, I told you I was on my way to Miami
…
”

“Then go there,” I said. “I really don’t care. But pack your shit and get the hell out of here. Tonight.”

He grimaced, but I wasn’t sure if it was the leg or me telling him to leave.

“Noah, come on. I need a couple of days to get all my stuff together, get some cash, all that.”

“You don’t have a couple days,” I said. “You’ve got about an hour. Or that wound on your thigh gets a whole lot bigger and bloodier.”

He shook his head and muttered under his breath.

“And you don’t go near
Hanson
,” I said. “He calls you, don’t answer. He knocks on your door while you’re packing, don’t answer. He’s standing on the street as you’re driving away, run over him. Don’t ever speak to him again.”

He sighed. “He was gonna be my hook-up for Miami. He was gonna get me set up down there.”

“Well, now he’s not. Find some other degenerate to hook up with.”  I paused. “Because if you do talk to him, it won’t be me coming after you. I’ll send Carter.”

Zip’s eyes widened, then he nodded. “No problem, man. I’m gone and I won’t ever say shit to that guy again. Swear.”

“Get out,” I said.

He did so quickly and shut the car door, limping away.

I wasn’t worried that he would do anymore damage to me. He’d stay away from David.

Carter had that kind of effect on people.

THIRTY-NINE

All was fine back at Bella’s house.

“Things okay?” Alex asked from his spot next to Bella on the couch. The TV flickered, the volume low.

“Yep. Fine,” I said. “Car’s back out front.”

“Okay.”

I looked at Bella. “Okay if he stays here tonight with you and Jackson?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. You don’t wanna stay?”

“Not that,” I said. “I’m just going to need to take care of a few things tonight and tomorrow morning. But I wanna make sure you’re comfortable with everything.”

She glanced at Alex and gave a quick smile. “Yes. It’s fine.”

“You can call me on the cell you got me,” I said. “I’ll make sure I have it on.”

She nodded and I motioned for Alex to follow me outside.

“You can take the car if you want,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “I won’t need it.”

“Nah, I don’t want anyone seeing me in it,” I said. “I’ve already been it in too much and parking it in front of the house might make it an easy target.”

“You think this guy is coming?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He will at some point. And I think it’ll be for me, not Bella. That’s why I wanna separate from her. In case he does. I don’t want her or Jackson to be in the line of fire or see anything that goes down.”

“You can handle it?” Alex asked.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“You got any other backup?”

I shook my head.

Alex nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay here unless I hear differently from you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll call you guys in the morning and check in.”

He nodded again, started to say something, then stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, alright?” he said. He took a deep breath. “You need to let go of her, Noah.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You aren’t,” he said. “I can tell. I don’t know you very well, but you’re screwed up. And I get why and I would be, too. But you can’t keep her with you forever. She’s gone. She’s not coming back.”

I swallowed hard. “I know that.”

“At some point, you’re going to have to deal with it. All of it,” he continued. “Liz. Keene. What happened. You can’t live like this forever. Nervous and anxious, always looking over your shoulder. You either need to go back to San Diego and face it or get the hell out of here, to somewhere you don’t have to worry about it.”  The lines around his eyes tightened. “Because this is like purgatory for you. And I think it’s eating you up.”

I walked around him and grabbed my bike from against the garage. I wanted to say something, but all of the words were stuck in my throat.

“She wouldn’t want this for you, Noah,” Alex said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “She wouldn’t. She’d be pissed. You know how much she hated indecision.”

Tears stung my eyes. I did, indeed, know that.

“She wouldn’t accept you being stuck in this,” he said, walking over to me on the bike. “She’d kick you in the ass and tell you to figure it out and move on. And I don’t know exactly what that means for you, but I think she’d be right.”

I set my foot on the pedal, balanced on one leg, and let his words hit me like bullets.

“She loved you, Noah,” he said. “And right now, wherever she is, she’s mad at you. Not for what you did.”  He paused and put a hand on my shoulder. “But for what it’s doing to you.”

I pushed down on the pedal and rolled slowly down the driveway, the evening breeze brushing the tears onto my cheeks, his words echoing in my ears.

FORTY

As I tossed and turned in bed, Alex’s words wouldn’t leave me alone.

I needed sleep.  I needed to be sharp for what was coming, needed to be rested.  But his words were stuck in my head on a never-ending loop.  No matter how hard I shut my eyes, I couldn’t make them go away.

Because he was right.  I needed to shake myself out of it.

And I had an idea how to do it.

The first streak of sunlight hit the dirty garage window at 5:28am and I was out of bed a minute later.  I splashed cold water on my face, pulled on a T-shirt and slipped into the only pair of board shorts I had.  I stood near the sink for a moment, took a deep breath, then grabbed the old surfboard from the corner of the garage.
  I headed over to the beach. To the sand. To the ocean. To find Liz.

I crossed the highway, the parking lot and the worn planks onto the powder-white sand, Ike’s beat up six-footer tucked under my left arm. The sand was already combed against the edge of the calm emerald green water and I was alone.

I jammed the tail end of the board into the sand so it stood upright. Ike told me it was old, but it looked to be in good shape. No major dings and the last wax job had held. I checked the fins on the underside and they were on tight.

I stripped off my shirt, kicked off my sandals and dropped my keys and phone onto them. I stared at the water and wondered what it was going to feel like.

I pulled the board out of the sand and shuffled into the warm water, the board floating easily on top of the soft, early morning waves. I let the water wash over the top of it, then pushed it off. I waded further out, my hands on the board, giant knots in my stomach.

I’d purposely left my boards in San Diego. I’d always sworn I’d never be without them, but after Liz’s death, nothing seemed that important to me. And, somehow, I’d connected surfing to her. We’d spent a lot of time in the ocean together and while I couldn’t go anywhere without seeing her face, it seemed as if it was bigger and brighter the closer I got to the water.

So I’d avoided it. Hadn’t set foot in it. Maybe I was punishing myself, cutting myself off from the one thing that had given me solace my entire life. I didn’t know for sure, but the water had seemed less inviting, less comforting since she’d been gone.

But I needed her. Needed her to tell me what to do, how to go forward, how to heal. How to be without her.

The waves were erratic and small, no clear break line to paddle to. I laid down on the board and paddled around, just getting used to feeling the ocean beneath me again. I let several swells push me before I swung around, putting my feet to the horizon and waiting.

My arms sliced through the water, propelling me toward the shore and the water rose beneath me. I popped to my feet and slid down the face of the small wave, riding out to my left, just letting the water take me as I stood, the wind hitting my face, the salt stinging my lips.

The wave died out and I jumped off, submerging myself in the water. I came to the surface and wiped away the first salt water that had touched my face in months. My pulse slowed and the anxiety ebbed away. For the first time since Liz had been gone, I felt like myself.

I was home.

I attacked with a vengeance, paddling out hard, getting into anything that looked like a wave, carving and cutting at the water like a butcher. Every ripple presented an opportunity to burn energy, to burn anger and I took each and every one, my thighs and calves burning as I twisted and contorted on each new wave, flying up and down the shoreline.

The sun rose higher on the horizon, giving full light to the day.  Joggers and walkers appeared on the sand, eager to take advantage of the quiet and the respite the morning provided from the never-ending summer heat. I sat on the board, trailing my fingers in the water, watching. Thinking.

I paddled in toward shore.  My legs were rubbery and my lungs begged for a break. I shoved the board into the shore and collapsed on the sand, breathing heavily. I stared up at the blue sky, the water dripping off my body.

I closed my eyes.

And she was there, looking at me, smiling.

Hi.

“Hi.”

You looked good.

“Did I?”