IslandAffair

understand Robin’s attachment
to his hometown; it was where he had grown up after all. Where his family was.
It was also familiar to him. John had spent a little time the other night while
Rob slept reading up on brain injury and it made him understand why that
familiar environment was important. After those kinds of injuries being in a
familiar place helped with recovery, making the person feel secure and
providing the mental cues the brain needed to recover. They would stay as long
as Rob needed to but so far there was little about the town he would miss.
    He glanced in the rearview mirror noticing a car that was
just a little too close and pulled as near to the side as he could, slowing a
little to let the impatient driver pass. Instead of pulling ahead the other car
moved closer. It was a moment before John recognized the silver paint and
tinted windows from the other night. This looked like the car that almost ran
them over.
    “Juvenile delinquents my arse.”
    Realizing the other car had no intention of passing him, he
put his foot back on the gas pedal and let the speedometer climb to just over
the speed limit. The other car stayed on his tail for an instant before the
driver sped up and nudged the SUV’s back bumper. John gritted his teeth and
fought his own car’s steering until the silver car backed off again. He pulled
out his cell phone, intent on calling the police but before he finished dialing
the other driver pulled into the oncoming lane and accelerated aggressively.
The nose of the other vehicle came level with John’s rear panel and swerved
into him with a jolt that knocked the phone out of his hand before braking to a
safe distance.
    John’s SUV fishtailed and he fought for control as he
skidded and careened toward the side of the road. The heavy vehicle barreled on
despite his efforts, crashing into the drainage ditch and coming to rest almost
gently against the base of a tree. Metal ticked as it cooled and a quiet
hissing emerged from somewhere in the engine as steam escaped the radiator.
About six inches of water filled the passenger side of the car. John cursed and
fought his way out of his seat belt, clambering half out of the driver-side
door. The other car was idling in the road a hundred yards away and as he
watched, the passenger window rolled down. John squinted to see the driver but
the sun was low in the sky behind the car, making it impossible. He heard the
pop of the gun at the same time the side mirror exploded beside him, sending
glittering shards of glass into the air, stinging his face.
    “Shit!” John ducked back into the car and heard another two
bullets slam into the metal chassis. He dropped down to lie in the dirty water
against the passenger side door and hoped he was below the level of the ditch.
He was a sitting duck. John eyed the still-intact window and wondered how hard
it would be to break it out. Before he could attempt it, the eerie silence was
broken by the sound of another engine. Tires squealed from the direction of his
assailant and he heard the car accelerate away. Cautiously he hauled himself
back up and peered over the door. The silver car was gone and a tractor rumbled
slowly up the road toward him from the opposite direction. John dropped his
forehead against the door in silent thanks and climbed up to wave. The tractor
pulled to a halt beside him and an old man climbed down. His plaid shirt and jeans
were stained with dirt and damp with sweat.
    “You get in an accident, son?”
    He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he clambered out of
the wrecked car. “Yes sir. Hit and run. I’ll need to report it to the police.”
    The man squinted at him from a weathered and sun-browned
face as though assessing the truth of his words. He fished a battered cell
phone from his pocket and offered it silently. John quickly called the police
and turned to look at the SUV. The old man joined him, handing him a clean handkerchief.
“You’re bleedin’ some.” He gestured at John’s face where the glass had caught
him. John took it gratefully and gently wiped the cuts.
    “That a rental?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “They’re gonna be mighty pissed.”
    “Yes sir, they are.”
    “Sheriff’s gonna be pissed too, when he sees those bullet
holes.”
     
    The sheriff was indeed pissed. Mostly because the report
about John’s and Rob’s near miss from a few days ago hadn’t been passed on and
no one outside Barretts Cross had been looking for the car. It was