Three Days in May
by Toby Johnston
Chapter 4
Operation Rumrunner
Dad grabbed a bag of chips off the table as he passed by, casually making his way up the dunes toward where I was sitting. I kept Ash apprised of his progress, insisting that he stay tucked safely below the crest of the hill, knowing the poor guy had to be freaking out. He was only four feet away, but it felt like a mile.
When dad finally reached the top of the rise, his eyes instantly flicked over to Ash, very obviously staying on the backside of the dune. He casually tossed the chips into my lap. "My diversionary disguise," he grinned.
I patted the sand right next to me. "Sit here, facing the water like I am. Just a father and son having a completely normal conversation."
"So, just like when you told me you were gay?" He smirked, lowering his frame to the sand. "I should have brought some fish."
He'd always told me that tactical teams throw a little dark humor into the mix when they're planning and executing a dangerous operation. I guess this was a real-life example. I knew he was trying to ease the suffocating tension for Ash's sake.
He raised a sharp eyebrow, but followed my orders, setting his black go-bag down right next to him. "So. 911. Start talking."
I took the initial lead, figuring it was better to let Ash ease into the conversation rather than putting him on the spot immediately.
"Dad, meet Ash," I said, looking between them. "Asher Parker Coleman, the Fourth."
"Not Caleb?" Dad asked, looking down at Ash with a tilted head.
Well, if dad could throw around operational humor, so could I. In fact, I couldn't help myself. "Well, he sometimes goes by Not-Caleb . Or even just Not . But you know how cruel kids can be in school, dad. They changed Not to Snot and it got pretty ugly. But his real name is Asher Parker Coleman, the Fourth. As in...son of Re-elect Sheriff Asher Parker Coleman, the Third ."
Dad's entire posture shifted. The easygoing facade evaporated, replaced by the sharp, calculating gaze of an FBI Special Agent "Got it. So that explains why the Sheriff of Kill Devil County's SUVs have rolled past us on the beach four times today, when we've never seen them on this stretch before."
My jaw dropped a little. "Are you sure it was four? Ash and I only saw them twice."
"Definitely four," Dad replied smoothly, his tone dry as bone. "Perhaps you were a bit distracted?"
I couldn't help the wicked smirk that spread across my face. I glanced at Ash, whose face was turning a spectacular shade of crimson. "Well, yeah, we definitely were distracted for quite a while," I giggled, "Honestly, Dad? Ash lasted a whole lot longer than I expected…when I…"
He didn't let me finish, shifting back into FBI mode, "Okay, so Ash, son of the sheriff. How about you tell me what's gone wrong here? What has you hiding out in the brush; while your father's deputies are scouring the countryside looking for you?"
It took a good hour for Ash to relay the whole story. As it turned out, I had only heard the surface-level stuff before. His mom had died when he was only ten years old, and she was the one who had really raised him until then. His dad was always off working as a deputy, obsessed with building up his political base for his eventual run for Sheriff.
After she passed, a revolving door of hired strangers came and went to look after Ash. Hearing him talk about how lonely he'd been made me have to bite my lip. What I really wanted to do was climb right back over that rise, wrap my arms around him, and just hold him and kiss him until the sadness went away.
He'd figured out he was gay about the same time I did, but instead of a dad that he could tell, he had a homophobe who was extremely vocal about it. Ash had to suppress everything about who he was. For a long time, he was successful. Until he wasn't. But the worst part was that his own dad had been the one to set him up.
The Sheriff had his suspicions that Ash was gay, and he set out to maliciously prove it. He ordered a new, young deputy to start being nice to Ash—befriending him, reeling him in, making him feel seen. The deputy had even invited Ash out on a date. His first real date. A boy date. Ash told us how excited and happy he'd been.
Until it all blew up in his face.
Before the date could even happen, there had been a lot of texting between them. Ash had been so giddy, so caught up in the thrill of it, that he hadn't been careful. The texting eventually turned into sexting, and that was all it took. The trap snapped shut, and the shit hit the fan the very day before the date was supposed to happen.
Dad cut in sharply. "Do you still have your phone?"
Oh shit, I thought, my chest tightening. They could be tracking his GPS. They might know exactly where we are right now.
Ash nodded quickly. "I do, but the battery's completely dead. Don't worry, they're not tracking me."
I guess I let out a way too loud sigh of relief, because Ash immediately shot me a look. "I'm not an idiot, Aquaboy ."
I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. "Well, you're super cute, so I wasn't entirely sure how many brains there were to go along with all that."
Dad wasn't having any diversions; he was completely determined to keep us on track. "Okay. Good. I'll need that phone. We can use the text logs to subpoena their cell records and build a case for federal conspiracy. Alright, Ash—I know this is going to be incredibly hard, but I need you to walk me through the assault. Tell me exactly what your dad did."
Hearing the full details of the assault was worse than hearing about the setup. Ash went into a whole lot more depth than the quick, jagged summary he'd given me earlier on the beach. The second the words started leaving his mouth, I couldn't just sit up on the crest of the dune anymore.
I shifted down the slope to where he was sitting in the sand, tucking myself right up behind him and wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He gave me a quick grateful look—that cute smile that makes me quiver inside—and just kind of melted back against my chest for support. With my arms holding him steady, Willie tucked in his lap, Ash took a deep breath and continued.
He managed to make it all the way through the grueling ordeal, and I somehow managed not to cry. Dad calmly cut in with precise questions along the way, asking exactly where in the house the confrontation had happened, what kind of lamp it was, and whether his father had hit him with anything other than his bare hands. He was obviously thinking five steps ahead, mapping out the future evidence-gathering process for a trial.
Ash then took dad through the logistics of his escape up the island and into the dense thicket where he'd been hiding out ever since. It had been an old haunt of his and his friends growing up, so he knew the entire area like the back of his hand. It had been nearly three weeks ago now.
Three weeks. Hearing that timeline made everything click in my head. No wonder he'd looked thin when I first saw him on the beach, his shorts almost falling right off his hips. He'd been completely cut off for twenty-one days, living on pure survival instinct and whatever scraps he could find. He hadn't known who he could possibly trust on Bodie island, so everyone was a threat.
Until we—the complete and total outsiders—showed up.
Dad's voice was remarkably calm and anchoring as Ash finished up. "That's incredibly helpful, Ash. I'm sorry to have made you relive all of that, but I need to have a thorough understanding of exactly what happened, and who all the players are, so I can figure out how we need to move forward. Now, you mentioned a ledger and a zip drive earlier. Do you have them with you?"
Ash reached down and handed them both over. "I don't really know what's actually on them. I just know I've seen my dad writing in this ledger all the time, and he always kept it locked in his home safe. As for the zip drive, I discovered a hidden, encrypted folder on his computer a while ago. I figured if he went to that much trouble to lock it down, it was probably worth making a copy of."
Dad opened the book and slowly flipped through the handwritten lines, his eyes tracking the data. "Okay. These are almost certainly records of illicit payments to various people. You have dollar amounts and specific dates, and then you have these six-digit alphanumeric codes. Those must reference the recipients' identities. Look here—you can see the same codes repeating across entirely different pages. Ash, when exactly did your dad become the Sheriff?"
"I was five years old. So, twelve years ago."
"Interesting," Dad murmured, tapping a finger against a column. "You can see the dates here go back well before that. Have to give the man credit—he's been running this operation for a long time."
Ash leaned forward slightly from my chest. "Can we figure out who he's paying off?"
"We'll have to. That's the only way we'd really be able to prove something illegal is going on here," Dad explained. "Otherwise, all we have is a list of what looks like payments to someone or something we don't know. You can't get a conviction, let alone an indictment, with just that. That's why the Bureau has forensic analysts—they're masters at figuring out these puzzles."
Ash smirked, angling his head back to whisper to me. "See? I told you your dad was an accountant..."
Dad laughed, overhearing him. "I do have an accounting degree, but I recognize my limitations. Our analysts are the true wizards. Let's see what this zip drive holds for us."
While dad got his field laptop booted up, I decided Ash's ear needed some serious, loving attention. I turned my head ever so slightly and flicked my tongue out, grazing the edge of his earlobe. His breath instantly hitched and he squirmed, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted, tilting his head to give me even more access. A delicious shudder ran through him, his back pressing firmer against my chest as my tongue traced its way deeper into his adorable ear.
"Well, you were right, Ash. This folder is heavily encrypted," Dad announced, his eyes fixed on the screen. "It shouldn't be too hard for our tech division to crack it. Unless...you happen to have the password?"
" Unnnnngh... "
"Grayson," Dad said without looking up from the keyboard. "You know it's a federal felony to impede an active FBI investigation."
"Sorry, Dad," I chirped, keeping my arms locked around Ash. "I was just training our star witness to perform under pressure. You know, in case he gets cross-examined at the trial."
"Somehow, I don't think any defense attorney is going to try to clean Ash's ear with their tongue."
"If he tries, he'll have me to contend with," I countered fiercely. "Do you think I could jump the bar and tackle him before the bailiffs got to me?"
Dad just shook his head, a faint, tired smile on his face. "Ash, before you were so rudely interrupted, I think I heard you trying to tell me the password?"
Ash flushed a beautiful shade of pink. He looked down, clearing his throat as he awkwardly adjusted his hard-on against the fabric of his trunks, before looking back at the screen. "It's a really tough one, sir. It's Coleman3rd. Same as our WiFi and Amazon passwords."
Dad went completely quiet on us the second the encryption dropped and he was in. He sat there staring intently at the glowing screen, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. I couldn't help but think he looked exactly like a teenager sucked into a video game—the whole world could have literally blown up right next to him, and he wouldn't have even noticed. Total oblivion.
A flurry of rapid clicking filled the quiet dune. He was obviously sifting through a massive web of hidden folders, spreadsheets, and scanned documents. Every once in a while, his shoulders would tense up, and he'd let out a low whistle, a quiet chuckle, or a muttered, Holy sh... before catching himself. He was having a whole running commentary with himself, completely mesmerized by what he was uncovering.
Not that I felt remotely offended by being ignored. That just gave me plenty of uninterrupted time to continue training Ash for his testimony.
Taking full advantage of dad's ultra-focus, I nipped gently at the curve of Ash's jaw, tracing a path down to the sensitive hollow of his throat. Ash let out a breathless, strangled gasp, his hands flying up to grip my forearms. He cast a panicked look over his shoulder at dad's back, his eyes wide.
"Gray, stop," he mouthed, though he didn't actually pull away. In fact, he melted backward, his weight settling heavily against my lap.
"Payback for sucking my nipples earlier," I whispered against his skin, my fingers sliding down the smooth skin of his stomach to rest just beneath the waistband of his trunks. "At least you don't have to carry on a conversation like I did."
"You're terrible," he breathed. But then he turned his head, his lips finding mine in a quiet, desperate attempt to stifle his own sounds.
It started as a frantic hushed kiss to keep him quiet, but it quickly turned deep and dizzying. Ash's fingers tangled into my hair, pulling me closer as our tongues met, the heat between us spiking instantly. He shuddered against me, completely helpless to the rhythm of it, especially my fingertips grazing his swollen head. We were tangled up on the blanket, completely consuming each other in a breathless, silent blur of lips and hands.
"Unbelievable," Dad suddenly muttered aloud.
Ash froze instantly, his lips breaking away from mine, his eyes wide with absolute terror as he locked his limbs stiff.
But dad didn't turn around. He just tapped his space bar aggressively. "The paper trail on these shell corporations goes back to 2014. The sheer balls on this guy..."
As dad sank right back into his clicking trance, Ash let out a long, shaky exhale, his forehead dropping against my shoulder in pure exhaustion. I just grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, my fingers continuing to caress his slick head as it pressed up under his waistband.
I yanked my hand out of his shorts the next time dad spoke. I knew the clear difference between talking to himself and talking to others.
"Ash, this is a gold mine," Dad announced, completely unaware of the sudden panic behind him. "His Master Index is right here in the very first file. Just like his password, he made it too easy for him to get to, I guess. It links all those alphanumeric codes from the ledger directly to actual people."
We both scrambled to sit up straight, frantically shifting around on the blanket and pulling our knees up tight against our chests to hide our lingering excitement .
As dad began rattling off the list of names on the screen, the gravity of the situation took over, and Ash began chiming in frequently. Deputy, judge, councilman, business owner. He didn't recognize every single name on the digital list, but he knew a terrifying number of them.
As the names kept coming, a cold weight settled heavy in my stomach. It wasn't lost on me that there were a lot of very powerful, very dangerous people on this island who would now see Ash—and by extension, us—as an existential threat. One they would do absolutely anything to neutralize. My excitement was instantly no longer an issue. I reached out to hold Ash's hand—not sure if I was reassuring him, or if I needed him to reassure me.
Dad looked at us, his expression grave—part FBI Special Agent, part dad, "This is very, very serious, boys. I thought we were dealing with a rogue sheriff who beat up his kid. This is obviously far, far more extensive than that. I need to bring in Charlotte, probably even Washington. By next week, we'll have more FBI agents on this island than tourists."
Ash tucked himself tight against my side at that. I wrapped my arm around him, but honestly, I wasn't sure what help I actually was. In that moment, I felt about as powerless as Ben...no, probably less. Ben fears nothing.
"And I need to get you all off this island. Fast," Dad continued, closing the laptop with a definitive snap. "Not just you, Ash. Gray, your mom, Amanda, Jason, and Ben. It's obviously not safe here anymore. I need to go make some calls. Sit tight. You two can go back to making out—just keep it quiet, and keep your shorts on this time."
As he turned back toward the water, I noticed him scanning left and right— dad was on high-alert mode. He pulled a phone out of his go-bag, not his personal cell; I knew it was some sort of secure FBI phone.
He punched up a number, and whoever he called picked up right away.
"Casper, it's Splash. Thanks for picking up so quickly." Dad paused, his shoulders squaring as he listened to a brief, tinny squawk from the receiver. He didn't smile. "Yeah, well, afraid I'm going to ruin all of Memorial Day weekend, not just this afternoon. On the plus side, this is a career enhancing opportunity."
I knew who Casper was; he'd been to the house—Mike Reynolds, Special Agent in Charge for all of North Carolina, based out of Charlotte. Dad began pacing a tight, rhythmic circle in the sand, his eyes kept sweeping up and down the beach. Those deputies would be back through at some point.
"I've stumbled on a real mess here in the Outer Banks," Dad said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that made Ash shrink just a little closer to my side. "I'm talking over fifteen years of an ongoing RICO-level criminal enterprise: drug dealing, prostitution, a myriad of other crimes. Orchestrated by the Kill Devil County sheriff—he's got other law enforcement, judges, and local government on his payroll. I've just taken a cursory look through the mountain of evidence, and there's at least half a dozen murders as well."
Ash looked at me, mouthing, ree-ko? I didn't want to distract dad, so I put my mouth right on Ash's ear, whispering, "R-I-C-O. Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. Major FBI anti-crime law. They go after the entire criminal enterprise, not just the individual crimes." Since I was so close, I also took the opportunity to lick inside that adorable ear…
When dad finally spoke again, he laughed, cutting off whatever disbelief was coming through the line.
"I know, I know. I was supposed to be on vacation," Dad muttered, rubbing a hand aggressively over the back of his neck. "My son befriended a boy on the island. Turns out he's the son of the sheriff, who the sheriff tried to off. The kid made it out with a handwritten ledger detailing years of payoffs, and a zip-drive that's going to keep the forensics guys busy until retirement."
Dad went completely silent. The pause stretched out for five, ten seconds—long enough that I could hear the faint, frantic buzz of Casper's voice vibrating through the back of the phone. Dad just stood there, his jaw locked tight enough to pop a tendon, nodding slowly as the boss digested the bolt out of the blue.
"No, sir, I'm not exaggerating," Dad responded, his eyes locking onto the tire tracks the deputies had left in the sand earlier. "Forensics will have to verify that obviously, but I've seen enough raw evidence to know the real thing. This isn't something the kid ginned up because he had a fight with his dad. It's a comprehensive, systematic log of a criminal syndicate. It's rock-solid. This is an airtight federal indictment on a silver platter."
While dad listened to Casper's explosive response, I gave Ash a tight squeeze and whispered in his ear, "Dad headed up the take-down of the entire Jalisco Cartel operation in Texas, three years ago. Casper thinks he walks on water." I wasn't exaggerating; Casper had told me that himself.
On the dune above us, Dad broke right back into the conversation.
"Two other critical data points," he continued, his tone shifting from investigator to a man assessing an imminent threat. "First, the kid looks like he was someone's punching bag, bruises everywhere. Second, on our way in I saw the sheriff's deputies monitoring everyone heading over the Wright Memorial Bridge, and they've been cruising up and down the beach all day, scanning the tree line. They're definitely hot to find someone. And they're heavily armed."
I saw dad smile, his posture changing completely. He started nodding, throwing out a yep here and there. Whatever Casper was saying, he was completely in sync with dad 's line of thinking. They were already shifting from assessing the situation to planning the counter-strike.
"Exactly where I was going. Before the main hammer drops, though, I'm going to need an extraction—two actually. I need to get the boy, Asher Coleman, off the island fast and covert without anyone realizing he's gone. If they have even an inkling the FBI has him, everyone's going to bug out. We'll be raiding empty houses while they're sucking down Piña Coladas beyond extradition. I also need my family taken out. I can't risk them getting caught in any crossfire if this goes sideways."
Dad went quiet again, tilting his head as Casper's voice surged with a frantic, metallic urgency. I couldn't make out the words, but it was pretty obvious the SAC was laying out a rapidly evolving plan of action, next steps, and tactical coordination.
"The zip-drive data is already in the secure drive," Dad concluded, his voice dropping back into that steady, operational rhythm. "I uploaded it right before I called you. The file is called Operation Rumrunner —unless you want to rename it, you're the SAC. Right now, only you and I have access."
Dad finished up his call and came back down the dune to us. I could see he was pumped; he was passionate about what he did, and a live operation always brought him to life. He knelt down in the sand, looking exactly like my swim coach when he's hitting the key points of our strategy right before a big meet.
He gave a short chuckle. "Probably not how you thought this Memorial Day weekend was going to go, huh boys? This is going to be a lot more exciting than mini-golf and funnel cake. I'll assume you heard a lot of that—at least my side of the conversation, right?"
Ash and I both just nodded. I had a pretty good handle on what I'd heard, but my mind was already racing ahead to one total certainty: if Ash was being extracted in some fast, covert operation, I was going with him. I didn't really understand all the chaotic feelings that were hammering through my body right then, but I knew I had to be by his side. To protect him. To be with him.
Dad looked at Ash. "We need to get you off the island—but we need to do it covertly. That can't happen for another twenty-four hours. We're going to have to marshal some resources, get them in position, and then execute. That means we need to stash you until tomorrow night."
Ash digested that, shaking his head. "I don't know where you're staying, but I don't think taking me there is an option. Too many people know me, and they all know my father. Someone will see me. Someone will talk."
Dad agreed. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Not to mention, they've got deputies stationed right at the beach off-ramp, so we wouldn't even make it to the AirBNB. I think you need to stay here. You've been safe for the past three weeks; they clearly don't know this is where you're hunkered down, otherwise they'd be searching the brush instead of just driving the beach."
Tightening my arm around Ash's shoulder, I alerted at that. "I'm staying with him."
Dad looked at me, then looked at Ash. He took a deep, heavy breath. "I kind of figured you'd say that, Gray. I'd rather you not, but I understand. Actually, from a tactical standpoint, it's a good idea. Your mission is to keep Ash grounded now that the shit is kind of hitting the fan."
I grinned, "Then your mission, Dad, is to convince mom."
He snorted at that. "Your mission is way easier! Let's go see where you've been hiding out first. Gives me time to draw up a battle plan for your mother."
Ash led us back into the dense woods. There wasn't really any visible path; he just seemed to track our position by turning at a specific twisted oak trunk, a patch of briars, or a cluster of rocks. Finally, he stopped by a tight thicket of scrub pines. "Here we are!"
Dad and I both looked around at the unbroken wall of green. "What?" I asked. "You're just sleeping out on the ground?"
Ash laughed, his eyes flashing playfully. "Close your eyes."
Dad and I exchanged a look, but we complied. A second later, we heard the soft rustle of pine needles.
"Okay, open them," Ash called out.
We opened our eyes. No Ash. The thicket looked completely undisturbed.
Dad smiled, his tactical mind clearly loving it. "Okay. I'm officially impressed. You're not up in the branches. Are you underground?"
Ash's head suddenly popped out from the middle of a dense wall of wax myrtles. "Nope. Right here. Come over to this side."
Dad and I stepped closer. Right up against the brush, there was a narrow, diagonal break in the leaves. It turned sharply just six inches inside, completely cutting off the line of sight from the outside and making the hedge look entirely solid. If you didn't know the exact angle to look, you'd walk right past it.
He led us through the gap into a tiny, perfectly-concealed clearing. Tucked beneath the low canopy was his tent, his pair of sandy shorts and some other clothes hanging from a low branch to dry, and even a little portable camp stove.
I welled up with pride, making eye contact with Ash and beaming at him. This was incredibly impressive. He didn't just have an awesome hideout; he had it fully furnished. Short of fresh food and fuel for the camp stove, he really could have hidden out here forever.
Dad obviously agreed; he let out a low whistle, a clear sign he was genuinely surprised. He looked around the canopy, nodding approval. "Yeah. You'll be perfectly safe here tonight." Then a mischievous glint hit his eye, and he laughed. "That's assuming you two can keep the noise down..."
I gave him my best pout. "It won't be nearly as much fun, but if it's for the mission, I suppose we could keep it down…for tonight."
Dad grinned, tossing a playful cuff at my arm. "We all have to make operational sacrifices, Gray. Alright. I need to go talk to your mother. I'll grab some food and extra gear for you boys for tonight. Give me thirty minutes, then meet me back on the dune where we were. I'll never find my way back into this jungle on my own."
After dad slipped back through the hidden brush line, Ash and I walked out to the edge of the maritime forest, settling into the tall seagrass on the dune. The sun was dipping low over the sound now, casting long, bruised shadows across the sand and turning the sky a deep, fiery violet. The heat of the day was bleeding off, replaced by a sharp, cool ocean breeze that made me glad I was sitting close enough to feel the heat radiating off Ash's shoulder.
Together, we watched dad execute his battle plan at the Suburban down on the beach. Personally, I was ready to bug out and run into the dark if it looked like he was failing the negotiation; there was no scenario where I was leaving Ash behind.
Luckily, I didn't have to make a run for it. As the sun started dipping down, we saw dad start gathering up a duffel bag of supplies. Victory.
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