Read Online Drift Away (Noah Braddock Mysteries) by Jeff Shelby - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeff Shelby
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that I could be the one who chose when and how I faced them.
I finally crawled out of bed with the sun, threw on some clothes and grabbed the bicycle.
The sun was still waking, low and soft on the horizon as I pedaled over the bridge and into Fort Walton proper. The streets were quiet and I pulled up in front of a small coffee shop wedged between an art gallery and a used clothing store. I leaned the bike against the building and went inside.
The aroma of fresh coffee hit me like a crashing wave and I inhaled it, letting it filter into my senses. I bought a small cup at the counter and the kid took my money with one hand while tapping out a text message with the other.
There were only two other customers in the shop. An older gentleman engrossed in the New York Times in a seat next to the front window and a woman at one of the small tables, typing furiously on her laptop. They both ignored me, which was fine by me.
A small, wooden bar ran the length of the wall opposite the counter, two computers sitting idly. I’d found the coffee shop the first week in Fort Walton, needing some access to a computer. I wasn’t interested in putting my name on anything that might make me have to pay a bill at the house, so this was a good alternative. I could use the Internet if I needed and I could check or send email with a relative amount of anonymity. Was it overkill? Maybe. But I wasn’t willing to risk anything else.
I brought up AOL and typed in the user account I’d created and that only Carter knew about. We’d agreed that if we needed to communicate for any reason, this was how we’d do it. And it would only be if it was necessary. So far, it hadn’t been, but there was always a twinge of anticipation when I logged in each week.
The inbox was still empty and I let the breath escape my lungs.
I clicked the tab for a new email, entered in the address that Carter had created and typed “Zip” in the subject line. In the body of the email, I typed:
Zip is he re. No clue why. Don’t know what he knows, but not sure how to handle. Any ideas ?
I hit send and logged out of the account.
It was the first time I’d communicated with him since I’d been gone and I was surprised at how much it made me miss him. I couldn’t tell him anything about what was going on, hadn’t even signed my name. I was isolated in the truest sense of the word and I didn’t like it. At all. Liz was gone, but Carter was still here.
Just not in the same way he used to be.
I filled the coffee cup again before I left and pedaled back over the bridge, more leisurely this time, one hand on the handlebars, the other holding the coffee. The morning breeze was still cool and it would be the last few moments of the day that wouldn’t be filled with humidity and moisture. The sun was beginning its ascent into the sky, casting long shadows down the highway and the sand was still perfectly manicured when I got to the beach.
A layer of clouds hovered menacingly on the horizon as I unlocked the shed and pulled out the chairs and umbrellas. I only set a few out, unsure of what the weather might hold. Rains could roll in in an instant, drenching everything in sight, and the beach furniture weighed twice as much when it was wet.
Tourists trickled out to the beach as the morning wore on, eyeing the sky as they walked down the wooden ramps to the sand. By noon, I only had five umbrellas rented and the beach was as quiet as I’d seen it in weeks. The clouds darkened and billowed at the edge of the water, casting ominous shadows on the water.
My stomach rumbled, the result of the long night and no breakfast. I locked up the shed so I could find some lunch and headed up the ramp toward the parking lot and the street. There was a deli about a block up that I frequented and a gigantic sandwich sounded good.
I descended the ramp toward the lot and stopped.
Bella was standing next to
I finally crawled out of bed with the sun, threw on some clothes and grabbed the bicycle.
The sun was still waking, low and soft on the horizon as I pedaled over the bridge and into Fort Walton proper. The streets were quiet and I pulled up in front of a small coffee shop wedged between an art gallery and a used clothing store. I leaned the bike against the building and went inside.
The aroma of fresh coffee hit me like a crashing wave and I inhaled it, letting it filter into my senses. I bought a small cup at the counter and the kid took my money with one hand while tapping out a text message with the other.
There were only two other customers in the shop. An older gentleman engrossed in the New York Times in a seat next to the front window and a woman at one of the small tables, typing furiously on her laptop. They both ignored me, which was fine by me.
A small, wooden bar ran the length of the wall opposite the counter, two computers sitting idly. I’d found the coffee shop the first week in Fort Walton, needing some access to a computer. I wasn’t interested in putting my name on anything that might make me have to pay a bill at the house, so this was a good alternative. I could use the Internet if I needed and I could check or send email with a relative amount of anonymity. Was it overkill? Maybe. But I wasn’t willing to risk anything else.
I brought up AOL and typed in the user account I’d created and that only Carter knew about. We’d agreed that if we needed to communicate for any reason, this was how we’d do it. And it would only be if it was necessary. So far, it hadn’t been, but there was always a twinge of anticipation when I logged in each week.
The inbox was still empty and I let the breath escape my lungs.
I clicked the tab for a new email, entered in the address that Carter had created and typed “Zip” in the subject line. In the body of the email, I typed:
Zip is he re. No clue why. Don’t know what he knows, but not sure how to handle. Any ideas ?
I hit send and logged out of the account.
It was the first time I’d communicated with him since I’d been gone and I was surprised at how much it made me miss him. I couldn’t tell him anything about what was going on, hadn’t even signed my name. I was isolated in the truest sense of the word and I didn’t like it. At all. Liz was gone, but Carter was still here.
Just not in the same way he used to be.
I filled the coffee cup again before I left and pedaled back over the bridge, more leisurely this time, one hand on the handlebars, the other holding the coffee. The morning breeze was still cool and it would be the last few moments of the day that wouldn’t be filled with humidity and moisture. The sun was beginning its ascent into the sky, casting long shadows down the highway and the sand was still perfectly manicured when I got to the beach.
A layer of clouds hovered menacingly on the horizon as I unlocked the shed and pulled out the chairs and umbrellas. I only set a few out, unsure of what the weather might hold. Rains could roll in in an instant, drenching everything in sight, and the beach furniture weighed twice as much when it was wet.
Tourists trickled out to the beach as the morning wore on, eyeing the sky as they walked down the wooden ramps to the sand. By noon, I only had five umbrellas rented and the beach was as quiet as I’d seen it in weeks. The clouds darkened and billowed at the edge of the water, casting ominous shadows on the water.
My stomach rumbled, the result of the long night and no breakfast. I locked up the shed so I could find some lunch and headed up the ramp toward the parking lot and the street. There was a deli about a block up that I frequented and a gigantic sandwich sounded good.
I descended the ramp toward the lot and stopped.
Bella was standing next to
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