part [2/2] of the Colby Harbor series.

"This isn’t the rainy season of your father’s days; something dampens this town even at the peak of summer, when the days are roasting hot and the tide climbs higher up the shore with a wet, sucking hunger. White caps rise like sails along the horizon, swelling until they curl in on themselves and collapse. A sea breeze scrapes the empty beaches- foul with the smell of seaweed and stagnant water. The air stews with black flies, and seagulls wheel, screeching and screaming, gliding like distant white kites above the decks of a lone fishing trawler."

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