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“Pam, I love you.”
“No, you do not. Or if you do, you love me like a son loves his mother. Albeit a sick son, but a son just the same.”
“I never felt that way about you. I just can’t commit. I wish we could work something out.”
“You mean where you can come and go like I’m a prostitute? You’re not that good in bed.”
“Ouch,” he said, but he laughed out loud. “Point taken.”
She fixed her coffee and got out a cup for Dan, pointing to it. “Knock yourself out.”
Back out on the veranda, she opened up the sliders to the beach in an attempt to air out the stench, the noise of the breakers crashing on the beach echoing through the house. Even the sea spray made it up to the windows. She went back into the kitchen.
“Grab a travel mug. I want to go out on the beach.”
Transferring the coffee, Pam got a plastic grocery bag, and they headed out to beachcomb.
“Go north, please,” Dan said. “We know too many people south.”
“Don’t remind me. I used to be here alone.”
“Who was the first person to move in?”
“You were, across the street, then probably next door,” she said, pointing. “An old high school friend of Jack’s lived there with Randy’s former bodyguard. Then Lisa.”
“I think Lisa and Steve moved in first.”
“Then Steve moved out, and he and Laura moved into the cottage, and Ryan moved in with Lisa.”
“You forgot Alison.”
“Oh, right. Then Alison. Then Sandra. There goes my peace.”
The wind and mist cooled them off, the sun blazing as it made its way overhead. “Look, glass.”
They squatted in the sand, digging up shells and pieces of clear glass. Pam longed to reach over to Dan and kiss him, but she restrained herself. Up farther, Dan found blue glass, and Pam found green. He grabbed her hand for a moment, and they made eye contact, the sadness on Pam’s face hitting Dan like a club. They didn’t speak, continuing to beachcomb. They were out more than an hour, reaching the more desolate part of the beach.
“Is that Laura?” Pam asked.
“I thought we’d be safe this far north,” Dan mumbled.
“Let’s see what she’s doing.”
They kept trudging up the beach. With a small spade, Laura squatted in the sand, digging around among the tall grasses when they approached.
“Digging for gold?” Dan called out.
She smiled when she saw them. “Evidence. I’m going to sift through this sand until I find something to help solve a cold case.”
“Which one? Aren’t there, like, six murders that are cold?”
“Just one at the present time. It’s been about eighteen months. And I have the case file. Will got it for me.”
“This has been through storms and a blanket of snow. What could be left?”
“You’d be surprised, Dan,” Laura replied, thinking of case studies she’d read about in school.
“What are you looking for? I’ll help.”
