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Red Gleason's real name was Albert, but no one had actually called him that since he was a kid. He had a thinning crop of unruly reddish brown hair and a craggy flushed face that was splattered with freckles. He had been sheriff over a domain that included the tiny island resort for over 25 years, a period, he liked to say, that had enabled him to see it all. And now he had. The devastation of Ernestine would take a lifetime to describe, as well as rebuild. |
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He unwrapped another in what seemed like an endless chain of Cameroons, lit it, turned off his ignition and crawled wearily out of his patrol car. Carlos was squinting at him, and |
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