“Simon, why don’t you go in? Cool off.”
Another scoop of sand came out. “I will. Digging now.”
Christie made a small laughing sound. Keeping it light.
“That is one big hole.”
Christie remembered how at the Jersey shore her dad would always make the joke whenever she dug.
Digging to China?
Time to retire that, Christie thought. The thought of those days at the beach, her whole family, didn’t bring her any sense of joy.
“You go in later, I’ll go in with you, ’kay?”
“Sure,” Simon said.
Christie turned back to the water.
Obviously something had happened with Simon and the other two boys. Bit of bullying, perhaps? Teasing? Did he get scared?
Christie guessed he’d eventually tell her.
Eventually kids tell things.
Just have to be patient.
And she wondered: was she also thinking now not just about Simon, but her husband as well?
The dream—so vivid, lifelike, that in his nightmare sleep Jack tossed and turned in the bed.
His family in a car.
The rest stop. And Can Heads surrounding it. First a few. Then more. Circling it, banging on the metal. Probing.
For some reason, he was on the ground, unable to get up. No gun—nothing he could do but watch the scene at the car as a window shattered. The another. The screams of his kids. Christie yelling.
Still he lay on the ground, more Can Heads on top of him, pulling, picking at him. He would be alive to see the horror that would engulf his family.
He moaned in the dream.
Then in the room. Quiet sound at first, then louder, and then—
His eyes opened wide. Taking in the unfamiliar bedroom. The late morning light through the curtains.
The dream lingered, the feelings holding on even as he sat up in bed, hoping to shake off the horror. He cleared his throat.
“’Lo? Anybody home?”
The cabin quiet. He could see the porch door open, with only the screen door shut to keep the outside and the bugs away.
A small tent of a note with his name on it sat on the dresser.
He moved to get out of bed, feeling that familiar jolt of pain that was part of the everyday routine of getting up. Getting up, moving. Doing some stretching in bed.
That would be followed by the pressure of finally placing his right foot on the ground. It always hurt first thing, the first time he stood on it. As if the leg just wanted to be inactive forever and give in to the wound.
No fucking way that was happening.
He walked over to the note and picked it up.
Down at the beach, sleepyhead. See you there! Xoxo, me.
Jack put the note down.
“Morning,” Jack said to Tom and Sharon as he sat down next to Christie on the beach towel.
Tom made a knocking gesture at his head—obviously also the worse for wear after the cook’s moonshine.
“There you are!” Christie said. “Thought we’d have to take drastic measures to get you up for lunch.”
“Guess… I was tired. All that driving.”
He couldn’t see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses.
“Yup. Lot of driving. And…”
Jack nodded and turned to Simon.
“Morning, Mr. Simon. Tunneling, hm?”
“Hi, Dad.”
Christie lowered her glasses a bit, and gave Jack a look up and down. “I see you’re in your bathing suit.”
He grinned. “Yeah. I mean, it is a beach.”
“Kind of expected you to wear khakis and”—she leaned close—“strap your ‘little friend’ onto your ankle.”
“Right. Let everyone know I’m a cop.”
Truth was, he had looked at his ankle holster and thought of doing just that. Did he go anywhere without a gun these days?
Hardly.
Instead, he had taken the gun and holster and buried it under a pile of his shirts in a bottom drawer of the bedroom dresser.
Not that he felt comfortable now.
“Well, good. Maybe we can all go in the water, then.”
Christie made a small nod in Simon’s direction.
Jack could see that his son hadn’t gotten his suit wet.
He turned back to Christie. “Yeah. Let me toast a bit. Then we all hit that water.”
“It’s cold,” Tom said. “It will wake you up, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe I’ll wait.”
“Tonight’s the fireworks—sit together for dinner again?”
Jack looked at Christie. Did she like them?
“Um, sure. Great.”
“We’ll save you places.”
Jack looked around at the islands of umbrellas and chairs and blankets.
Then: “Where’s Kate?”
“She wanted to go to the game room. Said the sun was too hot.”
“She just went off on her own?”
“Er… yeah. This is a camp.”
Jack tried to gauge why that bothered him. Was it due to those older boys, the lifeguards that he now viewed as human sharks circling an impressionable, just-turned teenager?
Or leftover feelings from last night? The guards, the whole feel of the place at night.
He would have liked to have told Christie about it. But why? Make her nervous? Let his paranoia be her paranoia?
“I think I’ll go look in on her.”
“Jack—Jesus. She’s okay.”
“I know. But a look doesn’t hurt. Going to be lunch soon.”
“In an hour. Can you just—”
But he was already up. Feeling half-naked in his blue bathing suit and a plain black T-shirt.
“I’ll be right back.”
He turned and headed toward the game room.
He could hear the voices and the music from inside even before he pushed open the screen door.
Place was jumping. Obviously the teen hangout for the kids who didn’t want to stay with their obviously too-embarrassing families by the lake.
But not just guests.
He saw three young guys playing pool, one of whom had been on lifeguard duty the previous afternoon.
Kate stood by an old-fashioned pinball machine, all blinking lights and flashing dice. “Viva Vegas,” the game was called. An Elvis caricature danced above a roulette wheel.
Except Vegas, according to most reports, was as dead as the King himself. A ghost town.
He walked over to Kate.
“Hey, kiddo, how you—”
She spun around quickly as if being caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” The lasts two words made it seem like a major crime.
Jack became suddenly aware that there was no one over sixteen in the room. Kate seemed to have taken note of that as well.
He tried to smile, even as he felt his ineptness in all this. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“What? I’m fine.” Then louder. “Fine!”
Their conversation had caught the eyes of other kids. Now it was a show. Kate’s voice loud. Jack trying to keep a smile on his face.
“Good. Everything’s—” he started.
But Kate turned away from “Viva Vegas,” and marched to the door. “Now that you’re here, I’m leaving.”
In a flash, she was gone. The screen door slapped shut, punctuating the whole scene.
The kids in the room, grinning at it all, had gone back to their games, their conversations.
Handled that well, Jack thought.
He left the game room, only steps to the outside, but feeling as if it took forever.
And out.
Standing there. A breeze blowing, taking some of the heat away. The game room a good-sized building. Looked like kayaks and canoes and other beach stuff were stored in the back.