He and Fray had been out for a typical scout patrol of their cove—Ciaran’s favourite place on earth. His water, his town, his home. They didn’t find anything, but Ciaran hadn’t expected to. Life here was quiet, peaceful, and perfect.
Fraser was Ciaran’s best mate, and he’d been with him for as long as Ciaran could remember. They were opposites in almost every way. Fray was tall and lean, whereas Ciaran was short and stocky, Fray was blond and blue-eyed while Ciaran had reddish brown hair and copper-coloured eyes. Fray was funny and carefree, and Ciaran was serious, the burden of responsibility the outlier of every decision he made, every rule he kept.
Fray kept Ciaran sane, most of the time. He knew him better than Ciaran knew himself. They had a simple, carefree life in the Cove, and Ciaran got to do what he loved for a job. Not that he really needed the money, but he was loath to sit on idle hands.
Just then, they heard the familiar sound of Tobin’s boat putting into the small harbour and watched as it pulled up to the pier. Tobin was a member of hisfamily, another of Ciaran’s closest friends, and he was the one with the most contact with the outside world. He did the mail and supply run up north to Strahan or down to Southport every Monday and Friday, and this Monday was no different.
Except today he had company on the boat with him. He had brought someone back with him.
“What the hell?” Ciaran mumbled. His skin prickled with awareness and unease.
They watched as a man, carrying a duffel bag and a box, slung a fishing rod carry-tube over his shoulder.
The guy looked to be maybe in his early thirties, kinda fit, tall with a solid build, and had short brown hair. Of course he noticed Ciaran and Fray standing, still wet, on the jetty.
Fray was beside Ciaran then and planted a dry towel in the middle of Ciaran’s chest, silently reminding him that humans didn’t generally stand dripping wet in the freezing cold wind wearing nothing but board shorts.
Ciaran proceeded to dry himself, raking the towel over his chest and arms, then rubbing his hair. “Thanks.”
“Another fisherman trying his luck.” Fray snorted. “Don’t think he’ll be catching much around here. Doubt he’ll wanna stay till Friday.”
The man looked over at them then, as if he’d heard what they’d said, his ice-blue eyes locking with Ciaran’s. And Ciaran couldn’t look away. It felt as if a tangible line had snagged him, and the longer he stared, the stronger the pull.
His hearts thrummed, his blood sang, his whole body reacted.
It felt like he was being reeled in, hook, line, and sinker.
“Hey,” Fray said, nudging him with his elbow. “You good?” He looked from Ciaran to the newcomer and back again. “You know him or something?”
Ciaran startled, breaking eye contact with the newcomer, which also severed the invisible tension line between them.
What the fuck was that?
Jeez, and what had Fray just asked him?
“Uh, not sure. Maybe,” Ciaran mumbled, his hearts still thrumming. He itched to slink back into the cold water to escape from whatever the hellthatwas. He longed to disappear into the dark depths, and he could do exactly that anytime he wanted, but now.... Now something was stopping him.
The new guy.
Ciaran turned around and watched as the man in question carried his belongings across Bay Road and headed straight toward the police station, a small sandstone building, as old as the town itself. He took keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, and disappeared inside.
Well, fuck.
“Shit,” Fray said. “Another cop. How long do we give this one?”
Ciaran snorted, glad for the distraction. “Not as long as the last one. A month, maybe.”
Fray chuckled. “I’ll give this one two months.”
They never lasted long.
The last cop had started out okay. He’d been the wide-eyed do-gooder boy scout type. He’d made it five months, and the last Ciaran had heard, the poor guy had reportedly moved to Alice Springs to be as far away from the ocean as he could possibly get.
“Should we call a meeting?” Fray asked.
Ciaran couldn’t take his eyes off the police station door through which the man had disappeared inside. The pull hefelt—the draw—he could neither explain nor understand it. His hearts were still thrumming, his skin buzzing.
It wasn’t that he knew him from somewhere. He’d never seen him before in his life.
