3. Elijah
Coffee in hand, I step out onto the balcony of the lighthouse that now doubles as Knight Security’s office space. The apartment upstairs is small, just a bedroom and bathroom, but it’s quiet. And I like the quiet.
Another sleepless night under my belt, I practically inhale the steaming liquid. One of these nights, I won’t have nightmares. One of these nights, I won’t dream of blood, carnage, and death.
But not last night.
And probably not tonight.
“Yo! Elijah, you in?” Michael’s voice carries upstairs, so I shut the balcony doors and head through my bedroom. As I walk down the stairs, I mentally go through my checklist for the day.
Check on the Petersons’ security update.
Install a new panel in the Mastersons’ home.
Background check for Felix’s new hire at the hardware store.
Will reading.
That last one feels an awful lot like me being cut off at the knees. Especially since it wasn’t just my friends I watched die in the desert last night, but the granddaughter I’d promised to protect also lay there, dying in the sand.
Why she’s making an appearance in my routine nightmare, I’ve no clue. It’s not like I spent a lot of time with her. Though I did promise Edna I would protect her.
Did Edna believe Andie was in danger? Or was it simply the dying wish of an old woman that her only grandchild remain safe?
Michael is making a cup of coffee in the kitchen, so I polish off what’s in mine. The lighthouse’s living room isn’t overly spacious, but after some creative rearranging of the room by Lance’s childhood buddy, Everett, we managed to fit two decent-sized office spaces and a waiting area. Given that most of our clients are a few hours away in Boston or small-town residents, we rarely use it, but it’s there.
Michael looks up at me with the same darkness in his eyes that clouds mine.
“No sleep for you, either?” I ask.
“When do we ever sleep?” he quips then reaches for my mug. I hand it over, and he pours me another cup. “Same one for you?”
“Almost,” I reply.
Since Michael and I served—and nearly died—together, our nightmares are just twisted versions of the same horrific event. Watching those you consider brothers screaming in agony as they slowly die isn’t something you can walk away from unscathed. There’s a part of me that honestly wishes I’d died that day in the desert. Just so I didn’t have to suffer through the event over and over again.
Truthfully, I battle with the fact that it wasn’t me nearly every single day.
“Almost? Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not particularly.” I take a seat behind my desk and pull up my emails.
“Phillip said you were at the gym until nearly midnight. What’s going on?”
Michael’s way of dealing with PTSD included opening a gym so he could return to his boxing roots. He’d been a local champion growing up and managed to gain a bit of a reputation when we’d been overseas too. His place is where I work off my steam and has become a staple in my life, just as it is in his.
“You keeping tabs on me?”
“I did last night. Losing Edna was hard, brother. More so on you than anyone.”
“I’m sure her granddaughter will argue that.”
He scoffs and takes a seat in the leather-backed chair across from me. “She doesn’t seem like the caring type. Likely just here for whatever inheritance Edna left.”
It’s a crude statement, but not one I haven’t thought of. “Did you know her? Growing up.”
“She was quite a few years behind me,” he says. “But my mom filled me in on all the gossip when she left town with her high school history teacher.”
“What?” How did I miss that?
“It wasn’t on the internet,” Michael says with a laugh. “Learning that would require you to actually talk to people. And since you don’t like to do that?—”
“Edna never mentioned it.”
“Not surprising. She never had a negative thing to say about anyone, least of all her granddaughter.”
“So she chased after a history teacher?”
“She did. Not entirely sure what happened after that.”
I open a browser on my computer. “You got a name?”
He chuckles. “George Johnson.”
After typing it into my search bar, I put feelers out for information on him with all of my contacts in law enforcement. The wheels in my head are already turning. If Andie and Edna had a falling out over this guy, it would explain why Andie took off and never came back. And if she’s just here for her inheritance, as Michael suggested, it would also explain why she’d been so angry with me at the funeral for driving her grandfather’s truck. What if she and this guy are after everything Edna owned?
“I know that look,” Michael says. “You’re on the hunt for trouble.”
“Not trouble. I’m preparing,” I say.
“For what?”
“I won’t let her take everything Edna owned and scatter it in the wind.”
“You still have the will reading, right?”
“Yeah.” My email dings, and I open it.
You caught me right before a meeting. Good timing. Guy is a douchebag. Not sure what you’re looking into him for, but I hope it’s to put him behind bars.
-Jaxson
“Jaxson sent me something on the guy,” I tell Michael. The LAPD homicide detective has helped us out on more than one case. A former Marine, Jaxson is one of the few men I’d trust with my life.
Interest clearly piqued, Michael comes around and leans against the wall behind me as I open up the arrest record.
“Forty-six. Married once. Been arrested for public indecency and solicitation of a minor.” Michael shakes his head. “Fitting for a guy who would run off with his student.”
“Yeah.” I keep scanning, then open my browser again and type in the guy’s name. An engagement announcement in a Boston newspaper pops up with a photograph.
The man staring back at me looks like a relatively clean-cut citizen, his blond hair styled well, smile wide. The woman next to him is far younger and, based on the announcement, twenty-five years his junior.
I nod at the photo. “Looks like he’s planning to get married.”
“So he’s not involved with Andie.”
“It would seem that way.” I close it out. “I want to keep an eye out though. If this guy is back in town, we need to be sure he doesn’t leave with any other young girls.”
“He’s got an older brother. Keeps to himself. Never liked him. I’m headed to the hardware store later, so I’ll see if Felix has any info for us too.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Michael moves back around my desk and takes his seat in the chair. “What’s on your task list for today?”
“I have to check in with the Petersons about their system update then install a new panel at Danielle Masterson’s place. Their four-year-old got ahold of one of Zeke’s golf balls. Apparently, he’s got an arm on him. The screen was shattered.”
Michael laughs. “Future baseball player right there.”
“Danielle is less than happy about it,” I reply with a laugh as I recall the fury in her voice when she’d called.
“Let me handle the new install. You take the update since I’ve got the tech knowledge of a gorilla.”
“That’s an insult to all gorillas,” I say.
“Fair enough.” Michael chuckles and gets to his feet. “What time is the will reading?”
I check my watch. “Three hours from now.”
“You need me to go with you?”
If I asked him to go, he would without hesitation. He’d sit beside me, silent, a brother there to support me.
A part of me would like for him to go. Hearing the final will of a woman I’d considered family isn’t going to be easy. But it’s also personal. And something I want to do alone. Or rather, as alone as I can be given Andie will be there.
“Nah, I’m good. Go handle the install. Are you headed to Boston tomorrow?”
Michael shakes his head. “Lance is going to do the rounds out there this month since he and Eliza are going to see his parents this weekend.”
“They’re back in town?” Mr. and Mrs. Knight travel nearly year-round. They’ve been all over the world, staying in some places for a month or so before moving on. It’s rare for them to be in Boston, and I honestly wish I could head out there so I could swing by and say hello. No one cooks like Lance’s mom.
Her stir fry is legendary.
“They are. We’re all invited to dinner on Friday.”
I chuckle, my mouth already watering. “Count me in.”
Michael pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers a call. “What’s up?” His expression morphs from joy to full-on annoyance. “Seriously? Fine. I’ll be right there. Love you too. Bye.” He ends the call. “Install is going to have to wait an hour or so.”
“Everything okay?”
“It’s fine. My nephew has decided that playing racquetball against the sheriff’s car is his new favorite pastime.”
“Yikes.”
“This kid.” He looks about ready to explode but reins his temper back in. “My sister needs me to go pick him up. She can’t get away.”
“Go. Let me know if you need me to cover the install.”
“Should be fine. I’ll make him come with me and do some actual work.” Michael heads out as I finish my coffee. His sister runs the only BB in town, and ever since her husband took off on her a few months ago, Michael’s been playing babysitter off and on as his nephew works out all his frustration over his deadbeat dad on his mother and this town.
It’s sad. He’s a good kid, just thirteen and not thinking clearly.
I push to my feet and cross over to the coffeemaker to fix cup number three. I try to cut myself off at two, but with the will reading today, three seems like it might even be falling short. Especially when I have to face off with Andie Montgomery again. Who will likely not be thrilled that I’m attending in the first place.