2. Touch Of Crazy

2

TOUCH OF CRAZY

" D id I hear that correctly?"

Van Harlowe looked over at his supervisor who came to stand next to his desk. He was the only 9-1-1 operator working on Amore Island right now. They had three full-time staff and three part-time that covered the hours of every day.

It was never the job he'd thought he'd have. But then again, he didn't expect the last year of his life to happen either and was just lucky to be alive.

"What did you hear?" he asked Zac.

"That the call you just had was a puppy under the deck?"

"That was it," he said. He wouldn't add that the owner seemed to have a touch of crazy to her personality.

Who the hell named their dog Mr. Franklin? Here he'd thought some elderly man fell through a deck and was stuck and it ended up being a puppy playing games with its owner.

"I get why you wanted a slow life after what happened to you. Not sure if you realized that is how things would be on the island."

"I had no clue," he said.

The island being this close to Boston, he thought maybe there'd be a bit more action, but it didn't appear to be the case in the two months he'd lived here.

Most of the calls he took were car accidents, injuries or calls for EMTs, fires to be reported, which normally were false alarms too.

He wasn't getting calls for gunshots, murders, or even a lot of domestic disputes.

Granted, he worked the day shift and maybe not that much happened then. Though he'd been told more went on in the height of the tourism, which he was in, being early August. Did that mean in the winter he'd be sitting here twirling his thumbs?

God, he hoped not. Wanting a slower lifestyle and being bored were two different things.

Then he had to remind himself—he didn't move here for this job. He moved here to figure out everything else that changed in his life and that meant a whole new career he could embark on.

Once he worked up the courage to look into it more.

Until then he was living mortgage-free and had a cushioned bank account more than he'd ever thought he'd have in his life.

"Yeah, well, now you kind of do. It makes for some entertainment. Most things happen nights and weekends."

He worked Sunday through Thursday from seven to three. It didn't feel as if a lot happened on those days. But he'd heard nights and Fridays and Saturdays could be different. If the 9-1-1 operator was on one call, another coming in was rolled over to fire, police, or even the State Trooper barracks on the island.

He was surprised that one of the other full timers didn't want this shift when it opened up but had been told Christine liked nights so she could sleep while her kids were in school after she dropped them off and would be up to get them. And that Connor liked second shift because he'd never been a morning person.

The rest of the part timers wanted to remain that way, as they were second jobs.

It didn't matter to him. He could do what needed to be done like he had most of his life.

"Anything is better than what I was doing before," he said. "I'm lucky to be alive and know it and now I get to live on an island."

Wichita had four seasons but not as drastic of a change as the Northeast.

He saw snow in January but not much of it and not for long. But summers could be brutally hot.

Here, he was right off the water facing Plymouth and had his windows opened at night a few times. His AC hadn't run much and he was shocked at how nice it was to feel the fresh air in the summer and be able to go outside and get his runs in before work most times.

In Wichita, he ran in a gym, as much as he hated it. But it was that or lose a few pounds sweating in another way each day.

"There is that," Zac said. "If you can afford it, and many can't."

He didn't volunteer much about his life.

Not why he was here.

Not how much he had in the bank.

Or the house he lived in for free.

They knew what he wanted to tell them.

That he'd retired from the police force early as a detective because he'd spent so much time recovering from wounds that he didn't want to put himself through that again.

The truth was, he'd planned on returning had he not gotten the news that came along and presented him with a choice to make.

He had a lot of anger inside of him and needed answers.

But staying in Wichita wasn't going to give him what he needed, and after his mother passed ten years ago, there wasn't much more than his job holding him there.

Not his father whom he didn't speak to anymore.

No significant other he couldn't find or even hold onto if he found one.

Life was lonely.

His mother would have been upset with how things turned out for him if he stayed there.

This gave him an excuse to try to find some of what he missed in life. Some of what he lost.

He'd do it for his mother because he believed he owed it to her.

He'd accept what he got because she'd want that. It should have gone to her.

If she were alive.

"I can see that," Van said.

He'd been hearing how difficult it was to get housing, but he didn't have that issue.

Everything on the island cost a lot more since it was shipped over on the ferry. If he wanted something he couldn't find here, he had to take the ferry to Plymouth or Boston.

So far he'd been to Boston twice. Once for the reading of the will months ago. Second to sign all the paperwork and take possession of things.

From that point on, if he needed anything, he went to Plymouth, as it was a shorter ride and the city was not as congested.

"What do you think of it so far?" Zac asked.

He'd rather not sit here and shoot the shit, but it's not like any calls were coming in right now.

Zac got comfortable leaning on the wall next to Van.

"It's good," he said. "Nice. I don't talk to many, but the few neighbors I see on a run wave to me." He waved back because he wasn't a complete dick.

His father had reminded him more than once he always ran and hid rather than addressing things face-on.

He never believed that. If anyone did that it was his cheating father with a wife on her deathbed.

"Everyone is friendly here," Zac said. "You'll be able to pick out the tourist from the residents in no time. The Bonds, you'll pick them out faster."

He found the whole thing hilarious.

Sure, the Bond family founded this island well over a hundred years ago, but so many looked at them as untouchable.

Or stuck up. Yeah, that was more like it.

In two months he'd heard more about the lore, legend, and the five branches of the family than he cared to know.

Van hadn't run into any of the Bond family and didn't care.

Yep, he had to deal with Bond Law in Boston, owned and operated by Hailey Bond, but he didn't meet with her. One of the many lawyers she employed reached out to him via certified mail. He'd thought it was a joke and later learned otherwise.

"I'm one of those people who just lives my life," he said. "I don't bother people if they don't bother me."

Zac laughed. "I got that read on you right away."

Yet the dude was still chatting him up as if they were classmates at a reunion and catching up on life.

When the phone rang a second later, he started to wonder if it was true about this island playing interference in people's lives and that fate saved him from telling his boss to go find someone else to bug.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" he asked.

He saw Zac move out of the corner of his eye as he listened to an elderly woman calling because she burned her toast and smoke was filling her house and the alarms were going off. She didn't think her house was on fire but couldn't shut the alarms off either.

Yeah, this was the excitement of his life.