Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Makai walked up the few steps and went inside the surprisingly large stationA front desk sat at the back of the waiting room. Beyond seemed to be a regular old bull pen with desks and whatnot. There were enclosed spaces on both sides in the back, one of which had glass windows like in every cop show he’d ever seen.
“Hi,” he told the uniformed young woman in the front. “I’m Makai Stone, here to see the sheriff.” He kept his tone even, tried not to look too big or too brown or, hell, too anything.
The clock on a pillar next to the desk made an audible click in the quiet, empty station. It was exactly the time he had the appointment.
“Of course,” she said and gave him a small but friendly smile. “I’m Deputy Peters, welcome to town.” She looked behind her, and as if called, the door to the sheriff’s office opened. “You can go through,” she said and smiled at him again.
“Thanks.” Makai went through the small gate and walked to the sheriff who had stopped by his open door.
The sheriff was in his fifties, Makai guessed. He looked like a tough guy; he carried himself exactly like every other law enforcement or military person Makai had ever seen, but he didn’t seem too intimidating. Yet.
“Hi,” he said again, when he got to the man. He surreptitiously wiped his hands on his jeans, not wanting them sweaty for the shake he knew was coming. He felt uneasy, nervous even, but not that badly.
“Mr. Stone. I’m Sheriff Newman.” They shook hands, the sheriff’s grip firm and strong, but he wasn’t trying to squish Makai’s fingers.
Makai nodded, then followed him into his office, swallowing hard and doing his best to radiate calmness for both of their sakes.
“Close the door, please.”
He did, then took a seat in the visitor’s chair. Making himself relax wasn’t easy, but he somehow managed.
“So, you’re moving into the old Berg cottage? On Maple Hill Road?” The sheriff flipped open a folder he had. A folder on Makai. Shit.Already? Part of him understood, but another part felt oddly betrayed by the world
“Uh, yeah. I bought it two weeks ago from the Berg family’s agent. I’m meeting him there once I’m done here.” The settlement money was fine and dandy, allowed him to start over and even give some of it to his mom—he refused to think whether she deserved it or not. She was family, blood, and his father had taught him better—but it didn’t erase the years spent inside and everything that came with it.
“Right. I have reviewed your case, what I’ve been able to get my hands on, anyway, and I’ve decided to suggest that we have biweekly meetings to start with.” The man peered at Makai, his blue eyes almost cold.
Makai tried not to take it too personally. It seemed, so far, like Sheriff Newman was sticking with what he’d said on the phone.
“Sure, that works for me.”
“You’ve been out for how long now?”
Makai was pretty sure the man knew to the hour but indulged him anyway. “About five weeks.”
“Are you going to work or…?”
“I have some carpentry skills, but I don’t really have any solid plans.” Then, because he knew the logical jump from that from the law’s point of view, he added, “Right now, though, I can pretty much renovate the cottage and live off the compensation for a while if I’m frugal.”
Sheriff Newman nodded slowly. “You were a student when you were convicted?”
“I was twenty. I’d decided to work for an extra year or two before going to college, but yeah. I had no actual job skills, other than helping out at a local diner sometimes and stocking the shelves at a grocery store.”
“I guess you learned the carpentry in prison, then?” The sheriff leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers across his stomach that was flatter than Makai would’ve expected for a fiftysomething small-town sheriff.
“Yeah, it was the skill that seemed useful for me at the time. Then I just kept doing it, I guess.” Makai shrugged. “My father was Native Hawai’ian, so I tried to incorporate some of that into what I learned. Carvings and stuff, I mean.” Ten years was a long time to learn how to make chairs. You needed to spice it up a little.
“Well, I won’t comment on what I think about your conviction and exoneration. That’s not my business.” The weight of his opinion hung between them anyway, and Makai could feel the disapproval radiating from the man. “All I expect from you is the biweekly meetings and to keep your nose clean.”
“Of course. I don’t want back inside more than you want me here,” Makai blurted out, then almost swallowed his tongue when he realized what he’d just said
The sheriff’s eyes widened, but a spark of humor entered his expression, and he just shook his head without a comment on Makai’s blunder. “Why don’t you get the next appointment time from Deputy Peters, and we’ll see you in two weeks?”
“Yes, sir.” Makai got up, shook the man’s hand, and escaped the office before he could do more harm.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone