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After I’d left her apartment, I thought about her all the way home, again when I took the leftover food out of my truck and when I ate it, wishing I was still with her. I’d probably dream about her too.
Man, I had it bad, but this time, maybe it wasn’t over the wrong woman.
I refocused on my computer and watched as the software scanned every type of social media in existence, including the platforms that had come and were already gone. First, it scoured for names. Then images. Once a confirmed match was made, the software went back and looked for other pages where Luisa Reeve had been mentioned, photos she’d appeared in, or posts where she’d been tagged.
It would take several hours to complete, but by the time I woke in the morning, I would have a completed report, one that would comprise a chronological detail of Luisa’s presence on the internet—including things people believed had been deleted.
When Brix first brought the software to our attention, we’d run it on all the current members of Los Caballeros and a few who no longer were—like my father and Brix’s.
The coolest thing about it was what the program could do once the report was generated. I’d sat and watched as one click of a mouse methodically went through and deleted every existing piece of information about me. I ran it on myself again two weeks later, and there was nothing to be found, including on the dark web.
I closed my laptop and set it on the bedside table.
I wokewith the sunrise the following morning, which at this time of the year wasn’t exactly early. If I left the house now, I’d still be able to catch decent-size waves off Pismo Beach Pier. While the water would be cold, at least in October, it hovered close to sixty degrees versus December, when it would dip into the forties.
I pulled into the beach parking lot twenty minutes later, unsurprised to see vehicles I recognized. Press was here. Maybe Beau too. Zin was parked a few spaces down from me but must’ve arrived recently since he was standing next to his SUV, towel around his waist, putting on his wetsuit.
“Ridge, I wondered if I’d see you here this morning,” he said when I walked over.
I looked out at the water. “Who else is here?”
“The usual suspects.” He dropped his towel, pulled the cord connected to the back zipper of his neoprene suit, and sat on the tailgate to put on his booties. “I heard Press is headed over to the mother’s house later.”
“That’s right. Oh, and I ran the search-and-eradicator software on Luisa Reeve last night. I’ll forward the report to the rest of you later.”
“What we’ve found so far isn’t good, man.”
“I know.”
“Vacant house. Burner phone. Smells like trafficking to me.”
It was my first thought as well, and if it was, Luisa could be on the other side of the world by now.
“Suit up. Let’s get out there before the groms hit the water with their newly waxed boards—the ones they picked up at the swap meet yesterday.” Zin pointed. “Look, there’s one now.”
The shortie wetsuit was a dead giveaway of a beginner this time of year. The guy Zin pointed to wasn’t wearing booties, either. I predicted the kid would be in and out of the water in under fifteen minutes, hands and feet numb, after pissing off at least a dozen old-timers by putting himself in the wrong position for an incoming wave.
“Fucking groms,” I heard Zin mutter as he took off down the beach, carrying his longboard over his head. “See ya out there.”
We all lastedabout an hour since the waves were crap and the water crowded.
“Whose idea was it to show up here on a Sunday?” grumbled Beau, glaring at his older brother.
“You could’ve stayed in bed, you pussy,” Press shot back before turning to me. “Do we have time for breakfast?”
“I told Seraphina you’d be there around ten, so we have an hour.”
“I’ll get a table,” I heard Cru say, who I hadn’t realized was here.
“Were you out on the water?” I asked him.
“Nah, I saw the waves were shit, so I didn’t bother.”
“Smart man.”
“That, I am. So, Huck’s or Penny’s?”
“Huck’s,” I answered, as did everyone else.
