Page 37 of Hide Me Darling

Deputy Eli finishes his stern talk with the teenagers, who slink away with their heads down. He watches them go, it's clear that he takes his role seriously, but I wonder how effective they can be with the sheer volume of people coming and going.

As I continue to sit and observe, Eli starts wandering down the street, keeping an eye out and chatting with tourists. I’m surprised his surly demeanor doesn’t make him less approachable, but I suspect the badge helps. It just makes me look at him a little more closely. I barely acknowledge when someone sits on the bench beside me, assuming it's just another tourist like the five others who have sat down and left before now.

"You're looking awful hard at my boy there," comes a gravelly voice. My head jerks around to see that it's the Sheriff who has taken a seat. His posture is relaxed, and the scent of cigarettes finally reaches me on the breeze.

I smile, masking my surprise. "Sheriff, nice to see you. I was just admiring how well he interacts with all the tourists. You seemed to be over there acting like a mildly grumpy old man wanting them to go away," I joke.

To my relief, he chuckles under his breath, a deep, genuine sound. "How old do you think I am then, lass?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Feeling emboldened by our easy banter, I grin. "Hmm, fifty-five? Sixty? I mean, it’s an island. You could be a hundred but still looking young from the fountain of youth for all I know."

He bellows out a laugh, loud enough to draw attention from passersby. "I'm not even fifty yet. Still plenty of life left in me, Taylor," he responds with a wink, and I can't help the smile crossing my face. He is actually handsome for an older guy.

"Good to know, Sheriff," I reply, still smiling.

He leans back, his gaze following Eli as he continues his patrol. "Eli might be a lot sterner than me but it keeps the kids in line. Comes in handy with all the tourists we get."

"I can see that," I say, watching Eli approach a couple with a child throwing a tantrum. They immediately brighten up, grateful for his assistance. "So, Sheriff, with all these tourists coming and going, does it make your job harder? Do you see a lot of crime here?"

His expression turns thoughtful. "You'd be surprised. Mostly it’s petty stuff—drunken brawls, theft, the usual tourist nonsense. But every now and then, something bigger happens. We do our best to keep things under control, but it's not always easy. Next week is usually our hardest week of the year."

I raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "Why next week?"

He clarifies, "Our annual carnival. It's not a huge thing but big enough to draw the crowds. They should be starting to set it up over the next day or two."

"Carnival, huh? I think I saw something about that," I muse, intrigued. "That must be a lot to handle."

The sheriff nods, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's a good time, but yeah, it keeps us busy. Lots of extra folks around, more opportunities for things to go sideways."

I nod thoughtfully. "Sounds like you'll have your hands full."

He chuckles. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Keeps the job interesting."

We sit in silence for a moment, watching the ebb and flow of people on the street. The town's charm is undeniable, with its quaint shops and friendly atmosphere. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a complexity that piques my curiosity. As if there’s an undercurrent running through the island that reminds me of the shadows inside myself.

"So, how are you finding our little island so far?" Sheriff Brooks asks, breaking the silence.

"It's growing on me," I admit. "It's different from what I'm used to, but in a good way."

“What are you used to?” he queries.

“City life.” I respond simply.

He huffs a laugh. "Yeah, this is certainly not city life," he says. "If you need anything or have any questions, feel free to drop by the station."

"Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate it."

He gives me a nod and a brief smile before standing up. "Take care, Taylor. See you around."

With a final wave, Sheriff Brooks heads back towards the station. I stay there people-watching for another hour, long after the deputy has also returned to the station.

I don't see any of the other people on my list except Lily, who waves at me between serving patrons at the café with a smile. Deciding to head back to the house to do some more social media stalking, I get up and start the trek.

As I walk, my attention is drawn to a bus pulled over ahead. As I approach, a girl stumbles out of it and into my path. She looks a few years younger than me, with stunning red hair —a mix of natural and dyed red that deepens the color — and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," she says with a tired smile, quickly moving her backpack out of the way.

I chuckle softly. "That's totally fine. You look like you've had a long trip," I reply sympathetically.

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