Ted turned and went back inside. The shack had been built around the turn of the century, and the single overhead light that dangled from a string barely broke the shadows. Tina, his three-year-old, was perched on the ratty couch in front of the television, watching something from Disney. Ella walked past her without saying anything. In the kitchen, the skillet was coated with a thick layer of bacon grease, and Ella went back to feeding the baby, who sat there squealing in his high chair, his face covered in something yellow and goopy. Ella was twenty, with narrow hips, thin brown hair, and a fan of freckles on her cheeks. The dress she wore did little to hide the bump in her belly. Seven months along and feeling tired. She was always tired.
He grabbed his keys from the counter and she turned.
“You goin’ out?”
“Don’t be buttin’ into my business,” he said. When she turned around, he patted the baby’s head before making for the bedroom. He removed the Glock he kept beneath the pillow and tucked it into his waistband, feeling excited, feeling like all was right in the world.
It was time to take care of things once and for all.
7
When Dawson returned from his run, several other guests were sipping coffee in the parlor, reading free copies of USA Today. He could smell the aroma of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen as he climbed the stairs to his room. After showering, he threw on a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt before going down to breakfast.
By the time he got to the table, most of the others had already eaten, so Dawson ate alone. Despite the run, he wasn’t very hungry, but the owner—a woman in her sixties named Alice Russell, who’d moved to Oriental to retire eight years ago—filled his plate, and he had the sense she’d be disappointed if he didn’t eat everything. She had a grandmotherly look about her, right down to the apron and plaid housedress.
While he ate, Alice explained that, like so many others, she and her husband had retired to Oriental for the sailing. Her husband had grown bored, though, and they’d ended up buying the business a few years back. Surprisingly, she addressed him as “Mr. Cole” without any sign of recognition, even after he’d mentioned that he’d grown up in town. She was clearly still an outsider here.
His family was around, though. He’d seen Abee at the convenience store, and as soon as he’d rounded the corner he’d ducked between some houses and made his way back to the bed-and-breakfast, avoiding the main road whenever possible. The last thing he wanted was any trouble with his family, especially Ted and Abee, but he had the disquieting feeling that things weren’t quite settled.
Still, there was something he needed to do. After he finished eating, he picked up the flower bouquet he’d ordered while still in Louisiana and had sent to the bed-and-breakfast, then got in his rental car. As he drove, he kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, making sure that no one was watching him. At the cemetery, he wound his way through the familiar headstones to Dr. David Bonner’s grave.
As he’d hoped, the cemetery was deserted. He laid the flowers at the base of the headstone and said a short prayer for the family. He stayed for only a few minutes before driving back to the bed-and-breakfast. Getting out of the car, he looked up. Blue skies stretched to the horizon, and it was already growing warm. Thinking the morning was too beautiful to waste, he decided to walk.
The sun glared off the waters of the Neuse and he slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Crossing the street, he surveyed the neighborhood. Even though the shops were open, the sidewalks were largely empty, and he found himself wondering how they were able to stay in business.
Eyeing his watch, he saw he still had half an hour until his appointment. Up ahead, he spied the coffee shop he’d passed earlier on his run, and though he didn’t want more coffee, he decided he could use a bottle of water. Feeling a breeze pick up as he set his sights on the coffee shop, he saw the door swing open. He watched as someone stepped out, and almost immediately he began to smile.
Amanda stood at the counter of the Bean, adding cream and sugar to a cup of Ethiopian coffee. The Bean, once a small home that overlooked the harbor, offered about twenty different kinds of coffee along with delicious pastries, and Amanda always enjoyed coming here when she visited Oriental. Along with Irvin’s, it was a place where locals congregated to catch up on whatever was happening in town. Behind her, she could hear the murmurs of conversation. Although the morning rush had long since passed, the café was more crowded than she’d expected. The twenty-something-year-old behind the counter hadn’t stopped moving since Amanda had walked in.