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“Two words,” Lucien fired back. “Meg Ryan. I’d float anywhere with Meg Ryan, with or without suitcases.”
“See?” Jade muttered. “Maybe this Zephyr is a Meg Ryan fan. Go ahead. You two ride together. I’ll take Brogan back home with me. She probably needs rest anyway.”
Lucien stared long and hard at Brogan. It was the first time he noticed how tired she looked. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You go on home. We’ll talk to Zephyr.”
“Okay, but call me afterward and tell me what he says.”
“No problem. We’ll send you every detail of our conversation.”
An hour later, Lucien pulled into the gravel road and parked behind Zephyr’s Dodge Ram.
Birk stared at the idyllic but isolated spot. “I wouldn’t mind living here myself. It’s twenty yards away from the ocean. Is that him coming out of the water with his surfboard?”
Lucien spotted the tall, lanky surfer wearing his wetsuit. “That’s him. Let’s get this bonding started.”
They had brought beer and met Willis at the water’s edge with a six-pack of locally bottled craft ale.
Willis eyed the gift with suspicion. “What do you want now?”
“We just want to talk about the summer of 1978. We know you didn’t kill anyone,” Lucien added. “All we need is for you to think back to that August and see if you can remember three fifteen- or sixteen-year-olds who were full of themselves. They usually ran together in a pack.”
“We brought the beer because we didn’t think you’d sit down for a chat at The Shipwreck,” Birk clarified. “And we’re thirsty. We’re not here to make your life miserable. We’re just here to pick your brain about these three teens who claimed to be surfers during that time.”
Willis ran a hand through his wet hair. He bobbed his head toward a pair of chairs closer to the rocks and led them over a rocky pathway. He took his time navigating the land. When he reached the spot, he leaned his surfboard up against the side of the cliff and motioned for them to take a seat. “My dad and I used to sit out here and watch the waves whip around those boulders. We’d sit for hours without talking. It’s my first memory of him as a father.”
“How did you like serving in the Coast Guard?” Birk asked as he twisted off the cap to one of the beers and handed it off to Willis. “Navy SEAL here.”
“I liked it fine. I like everything about the water. Not many people understand the love of the sea. Not even my wife fully understood how much I enjoyed surfing, how it makes me feel to conquer the waves.”
This was a different Lee Willis from his first visit, Lucien decided as he listened to the man detail stories from his time with the Coast Guard. Today, he saw Zephyr’s quiet side, his calm nature, and even temperament. Not much seemed to be bothering him. There wasn’t a hint of the anger he’d witnessed before. Nothing seemed to be hiding inside the man who had a soothing way of relating his experiences.
Zephyr took a long pull on his beer, studied the label. “That’s good stuff.”
“It’s a vanilla stout from San Diego,” Lucien supplied, taking a slow sip. “We’re interested in knowing what you know about a guy named Dennis Marshall, known as Cruz back then. The other guy was known as Boomer, but his real name is Richie Plunkett. The girl’s name is Tazzie Crossland. Any of those names ring a bell?”
Zephyr sampled the beer again, taking his time with an answer. He cleared his throat. “If I tell you what I know, will I need to appear in court?”
Lucien exchanged looks with Birk and didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Birk raised a brow but kept silent, plopping down in one of the chairs.
“Tell us what you know,” Lucien urged.
“The girl was a piece of work.”
“Tazzie?”
“Yeah.”
“How so?”
Zephyr’s cheeks flashed crimson. “I once walked out of the water and she flashed her breasts at me. Just ripped off her string bikini top like it was funny and stood there laughing. And before you ask, of course, I looked. But even then, I wasn’t into fifteen-year-old girls. She wasn’t a very nice person. The guy they called Cruz was a dirtbag. Boomer was a cheesy little suck-up, a follower. The girl played them both like a fiddle. She dated one, then the other. Hell, she might’ve even dated them at the same time. Who knows? They were always together, though, pulling pranks on beachgoers and picking on people younger than them. The guys hung around her like bees to honey. There’s no doubt in my mind that she called the shots. I heard her once suggest to the others that they climb up on the water tower and leave graffiti with some nasty words about a rival from school.”
“In other words, they did what Tazzie told them to do,” Birk prodded.
“Pretty much. Yeah. She treated everyone like dirt.”
“Did you ever see any of them with the girl who turned up dead?”
