Page 5 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

Melody inhaled and was instantly revitalized. The tangy scent of salt and sand swirled around her, bringing her closer to the memory of her mother. “It’s amazing.”

“Right?!”

Melody’s grin faded. “Dot, were you just asking me for my help underwater?”

Dot shook her head. “You were struggling. You probably called out and were so scared you thought the voice was someone else’s.” She motioned toward shore, where the others swam a few hundred yards away. “We better catch up. Don’t want to miss anything.”

Melody looked around, her eyes wider and more frightened than Dot’s had been. Buildings shot up from the ground, piercing the sky and reflecting stars of light like shimmering metal crystals. Cars and humans crept along congested cement trails while barnacle-bottomed boats bobbed by the docks. The city was congested and busier than any of her teachers could’ve prepared her for. “I need a minute.”

“Okay.” Dot started to swim away, but turned back. A mixture of pity and concern creased her brow. “Melisma would be proud of you.” She disappeared under the water.

Melody stuck her face in the cool blue and swam toward the pier. Annoyed, she kicked forcefully and sent a cloud of agitated white water billowing around her. Next time she had to make the journey, she wouldn’t let the fear of what had happened to her mom get to her.

Chapter Three

“What’s wrong with him?” The old bartender peered from under bushy white brows at Dean.

“Officer Kent here thinks he saw some kind of alien booger monster.” Kait jabbed at his ribs with her elbow.

“I know it wasn’t an alien. Or a damn booger monster.” He rubbed at his side. “It was probably some woman in a costume on her way to Mystique,” he said, ignoring the pinching in his gut that told him what he had seen was real.

“Well, whoever it was, it’s Homicide’s problem and not ours. Good thing, too, because it’s definitely off the crazy scale.” Kait sipped her drink. “This is the best coffee in the entire fucking world. Seriously. The. Best.” Kait wrapped her hands around the tall-stemmed glass etched with Buena Vista Café San Francisco and sipped slowly, savoring the last steaming, sticky drop.

“Best coffee or Irish whiskey?” Dean’s eyes smiled at his partner over the rim of his own glass while he downed the strong, hot concoction, glad to change the subject away from the nightmare murder he’d witnessed—also glad his hands had stopped shaking.

“Does it really matter as long as my boyfriend C over there behind the bar keeps them coming?” Kait raised her voice so that the old barkeep shot her a practiced look, the perfect mixture of sarcasm and fond familiarity.

“You coppers can debate all you want, but you won’t get it right until you conclude that I make the best Irish coffee in the world—maybe even the known and unknown universe. And let me tell ya again, sweet lips, old Charlie knows how to do it just right for ya.” He waggled his bushy brows at Kait.

“I’m totally on Team C!” Kait raised her hands in surrender. “I concede that your Irish coffee skills are so vast that you make my very queer heart go pitter-patter like no man ever will.”

“That makes my day, sweet lips,” Charlie said with a wink.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “I still don’t know why she’s let you live this long calling her that.”

“She lets me live because our relationship is bound by Irish whiskey.”

“That’s right, C, baby. And Irish whiskey is stronger than mother’s milk—or so my Irish granddaddy tells me. And sometimes looking forward to your Irish coffee is all that gets me through our night shifts in this magnificent, batshit-crazy city.” Kait laughed.

Charlie leaned over the bar to scoop up the cash Dean plunked down between them. “You know you coppers don’t have to pay.” He winked at Kait again. “Especially you, sweet lips.”

“But you know we always do,” Dean said. “You ready to go?” he asked his partner.

Pulling a dog-eared copy of We Were Feminists Once from her vegan leather satchel, Kait shook her head. “Nope, it’s my Friday. I’m staying. Going to get some reading done. In peace. You should, too, after what you saw. Well, you drink and I’ll read.” She caught Charlie’s eye. “Another for me, C, and I’m moving over there to my spot by the window. You joining me?”

“Nah, I’m beat, and you know that German shedder of yours will still be waiting, leash in mouth, for her walk no matter when you get home,” Dean said.

“I know that, which is why I’m going to have another drink here, in peace, before I go home to that shedding Nazi. And I know damn well you aren’t heading home yet either, no matter how beat you are.”

“Gotta count ’em.” Dean grinned at his partner. He liked that they knew each other so well they could predict each other’s behavior. It felt good. Felt like family. Hell, better than family because they’d chosen each other.

“Counting the crazy swimming people will not actually keep them safe,” Kait said, laughing, as she settled into her booth, book in hand.

“Okay, I’ll concede that the counting of the lap swimmers may be a little obsessive, if you’ll concede that, with me watching, it’s less possible that accidents will happen to them.”

“Dean, you’re a crappy swimmer,” Kait said.

“No, I’m a strong swimmer. I just hate the water. There’s a difference.”