the middle ≫ jj maybank

xxxii. the daughter

In the two months they spent together, Slater had only been scared of Rafe Cameron one time.

They weren't really dating, but they did spend a lot of time together, beyond just hooking up. Sometimes they'd grab lunch and bring it back to Tannyhill to eat together. Other times they'd take the boat out, jump off, and go for a swim. One time they even watched the sunset together — although they hadn't actually finished watching the sunset, and by the time they were done making out on the leather seats of the My Druthers, it was well past dark.

One particular day, when the club was too crowded and it was hot and humid in every nook and cranny on the island, they took the boat out, a little ways away from shore, to escape the blistering heat and find a bit of sea breeze to cool them down. Rafe had just gotten in a massive argument with his father — the worst one Slater had witnessed to this day — all while she'd been hiding out in his bedroom.

After Ward left, Rafe stormed up to his room, throwing the door open with such intensity that she was sure it would fall off its antique hinges.

His face was red, his blond hair disheveled. His fists were clenched tightly at his side as he paced back and forth in front of her.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill him."

It was a common turn of phrase after an argument, but the way Rafe said it made it feel like more than that.

Despite his anger, his voice was steady, almost calm.

His eyes locked on hers, and she felt goosebumps immediately cover her arms and the back of her neck, despite the heat. The look on his face was terrifying. She didn't know what to do.

"Let's go out on the water," she said carefully. "Cool off."

In more ways than one.

He nodded quickly, his eyes not quite meeting hers, as if he were worlds away inside his brain. "Yeah yeah yeah, good idea. Cool off," he echoed.

She stood carefully, working to keep her breathing even as she took his side. "Let's go now, then, before anyone sees."

She followed him out of the room and down the stairs. Rafe remained quiet the entire walk to the Druthers, and the entire time he worked to ready the boat. He didn't speak until they were halfway down the channel, and the open ocean was right in view.

"My dad, he doesn't understand me. He doesn't get me. He never will," he said quietly. "I have to show him. Show him who I am. Then he'll see."

"What do you mean, Rafe?"

He met her eyes, his pupils dilated so far that she could barely see the blue of his irises. Her heart raced in her chest.

"Then he'll see."

Slater had always known Rafe wasn't the best person, yet she couldn't help being enamored by him. Looking back, she knew she was young, naive, and foolish. Still, she'd never imagined, not in her wildest nightmare, that he'd become a murderer.

And that the person he'd murder would be Sheriff Peterkin.

When Slater was in Girl Scouts, in elementary school, they'd been given a project to interview a woman they admired. Slater had chosen Sheriff Peterkin. When Pete had started on the force, she was the only woman, and one of only two black officers. She quickly rose through the ranks, and the year that Slater interviewed her for her Girl Scouts project was the third year of her first term. Peterkin was beloved by all, on both sides of the island. She had a no-nonsense attitude that the corrupt island's police force desperately needed.