Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
────004, lost at sea.
ONCE UPON A TIME, KELLAN BENNETT WARNED CLEO THAT HER FRIENDS WERE TROUBLE.
Naturally, it was for something silly━━like one of the Pogue crew's many escapades into derelict and condemned buildings or newly built ones, sneaking onto the skeleton of the construction site just to watch the sun or the stars from the highest point they could find. One time when Cleo was thirteen and the guys had willed her out late at night to watch the sun rise from the framework of a new hotel in the heart of the Figure Eight, a security guard had arrived unexpectedly and sent the group into a panic frenzy, making a mad dash for freedom. Their chase didn't last long, of course, being as they were just stupid little kids then, and when they were caught, the cops had been called. Cleo's father was the first to arrive, a shiny sheriff badge on the lapel of his uniform as he climbed out of the squad car only to look at his daughter in disappointment.
"How many times have I told you to stay away from them, Cleo?" Kellan had scolded in the Outer Banks police station where she and the rest of her friends had nearly been slammed for trespassing. It was after John B's and everyone else's parents came to pick them up, when Kellan sat down beside Cleo at his desk in his office with that same unamused and tired glance, eyes lined with wrinkles and bags from years of tribulations and stress. "One day they're gonna get you into some serious trouble, and I won't be there to help you or them out of it. That's all it takes.One wrong move from them and the authorities find you mixed up with them, you're ruined. "
At the time, and since then, Cleo had thought it to be a fanciful exaggerated sort of tale. She couldn't see how her father didn't note the irony in his own words when he was once a Pogue vagrant, scouring the streets looking for any sort of adventure at its beck and call. What made her, or her friends, any different?
It was only now that she was starting to slowly understand what he meant. Still, she couldn't simply abandon her friends for the life of her━━not then, and certainly not now.
That is why, the day after the commotion at the boneyard party, Cleo decides to pay John B a visit at the Chateau. She figures he could use it, especially now. That, and she was still a little worried for his well being after she, Pope, and Kiara took the time to help him back to his home.
Now, the Chateau looks just as decrepit as it did the first time she visited it upon her return to Outer Banks. The early afternoon heat is sticky and balmy, her hair already forming to the nook of her neck as she climbs the pier towards the house. She's only made it to the walkway leading towards the porch when she spots the Kildare County cop car parked on the gravel driveway. Then, straining to listen, she can make out the noise of a muffled murmuring from inside the house. She approaches cautiously, pressing her body against the railing of the porch and out of sight of the front door, though it's opened and she can see through the screen cover if she stands on the tip of her toes long enough. From where she stands, she sees the back of John B's head and the newly minted Sheriff Peterkin, and thus the past deputy, in the middle of a tense conversation. She looks irritable, jaw clenched as she stares John B down. Despite the fact that the boy is a decent foot taller than her, the potent look in her eyes makes her far more intimidating.
