“Yes, you . . .” Sia began. Then she caught on. He was serious about pretending not to know anything. “Oh, I get it.”
Richard smiled.
“It’s the old one no one uses anymore,” she said. “Broken windows. Worn red paint.”
“Ah, the one just before the bend?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“That’s a good walk from here.”
“One mile down, one mile back,” Sia said.
Richard pulled a tiny digital recorder from his shirt pocket, clicked it on, and set it on the ottoman between them. It was a tiny thing, smaller even than Sia’s cell phone, and for a while, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“It’s okay,” he said, “go on. Just ignore this thing.”
“We always start off on the inlet side, heading east so that we get the sun rising to our backs once we turn and hit the ocean side. Best of both worlds, you know. It’s often still a bit dark when we start off so we don’t have too long to look into the sun.”
“And you walk or run?”
“Gumper runs. I walk. He does circles around me and jumps into the water.”
“Gumper swims?”
“He loves it.”
“Isn’t it unusual for a dog like him to enjoy the water?”
“Like him?” Sia said.
“You don’t often see dogs as big and hairy as Gumper frolicking in the water. They’re usually parked under a big, shady tree.”
“He’s special.”
“Clearly,” Richard said. “Keep going.”
“Well, the beach is usually empty that early in the morning. It picks up around six or so, but until then, it’s usually just us.”
“So when you’re walking, are you aware of what’s going on around you?” Richard said. “Or do you space out like most people?”
“Both,” she said. “But even when I’m spaced out, I’m hyperaware. It’s how my head works. For instance, I always count the number of boats I see on the horizon and the number of fly fishermen out in their kayaks.”
“And this morning?” Richard leaned forward.
“Two kayaks, one sailboat.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Yep, I know most everyone out on the water that early. Yancie Stockton was fishing from his kayak and so was Bill . . . Bill . . . oh, what’s his last name? The guy who owns a hundred kayaks and a hundred fly rods . . . he’s famous for it.”
“Bill Yeckels?”
“Yeah, you know him?”
“Not well, but well enough.”
“Yeah, so those two and then the Nancy Jane.”
“The sailboat?”
“Yep. Ted and Nancy Saunders own it. I don’t know which of them was sailing it this morning, but I’m sure you can find out.”
“Anyone else walking on the beach besides you and Gumper?” Richard asked.
“No, but that’s not unusual. Like I said, it’s pretty quiet there until six or so, and by then, Gumper and I are almost home.”
“Did you notice anything unusual this morning?”
“Like what?”
“Tire tracks in the sand, objects on the beach, illegal fire pits, that sort of thing.”
Sia thought for a minute. “It’s not necessarily unusual, but there was a dead otter on the road in front of the house.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Gumper must have smelled him because as soon as I opened the door to let him out, he ran from the patio to the road.”
“Big otter?”
“Nope, little guy, probably hit by a car. His injuries must have been internal because there was no blood. He was just lying there like he was sleeping. Gumper wanted to play with him, but I cleared him off the carcass and then moved it off the road. The otter was still warm, so he must have been hit not long before I arrived.”
“Did you see any cars pass the house? Any headlights before you got out of bed?”
“No, but I wouldn’t. Our bedroom faces the ocean, not the road.”
“Okay, so after you moved the carcass, you went to the back of the house again and started your walk on the beach.”
“That’s right.”
“Anything else?”
“No,” Sia said. “The beach was the beach. No tire tracks in the sand. No strange objects. No sounds out of the ordinary.”
“And what happened next?”
“There’s not much more to tell. Gumper and I were almost to the clam shack. You know that big swath of marsh grass there, right before the bend?”
“I know it.”
“Well, I’d been watching it for a while. The green of it was pretty astounding this morning in the light and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.”
“And there wasn’t anybody else around?”
“Nope, I am one hundred percent sure there was no one else on that stretch of beach as we approached.”
“You’re sure?”
“To the best of my knowledge.”
“And then?”
“And then we got close to the marsh grass. Well, I got close. Gumper was behind me looking for shells or something. I turned to check on him and when I looked again at the marsh grass, the guy who is now sitting in my kitchen was standing there.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I looked up and there he was at the edge of the water. Completely saturated. Looking like he’d just swum in from Tahiti.”
“Hair wet, too?”
“Plastered to his head.”
“Was he breathing hard?”
“Breathing hard?”
“Panting. As if he’d been swimming for a while.”
Sia was quiet. She hadn’t thought about that before. “No,” she finally said. “He wasn’t out of breath at all.”
Richard nodded.
“This is kind of weird, huh?” she said.
“Possibly yes. Possibly no. I’m sure you’ve already considered why it’s so strange that you, of all people, found this man. But honestly, beyond that, I don’t know enough yet. Keep talking.”
“Gumper greeted the guy in his usual exuberant way, and after the shock of seeing him there wore off a little, I greeted him, too.”
“So Gumper wasn’t hesitant?”
“Nope, acted like he’d known the guy all his life.”
“Is that unusual?”
“No, Gumper loves everyone, but usually when he greets someone on the beach, he’s off a second later to investigate something or someone else. The unusual thing was that he stayed by Toad’s side. And has ever since.”
“Toad?”
Sia looked at Richard out of the corner of her eye. “Yes. Toad. That’s what I’ve started to call him.”
“Toad it is,” he said without breaking rhythm. “Back to Gumper, has he ever done that before? Stuck to someone so . . . so . . . passionately?”
“No, just me. And before, Jackson.”
“What do you make of it?”
“I’m not sure yet. Clearly he senses the guy needs help right now.”
“Okay,” Richard said, “so then you greeted Toad, too?”
“Yeah, I said hi a couple times, asked him how he was doing. The normal stuff.”
“And he didn’t answer?”
“Not a word. He’s been completely silent since I found him.”
“He hasn’t said a word? Not one?”
“Nope, he hasn’t even made a sound. And believe me, Jillian tried hard to get something out of him.”
Richard laughed. He knew Jillian, too. They’d gone on a couple of dates a few years back. “Well,” he said, “if Jillian Weaver failed to make the man talk, I don’t know what will. He just may be silent forever.”
“That’s what I thought.”
&
nbsp; Richard leaned back in his chair. “So what do you make of this?”
“Me? God, Richard, I haven’t a clue. His sudden appearance on the beach shocked the hell out of me. It was like a magic trick.”
“You don’t get shocked by much, Odyssia.”
“I know. That’s what makes this so weird.”
“And you’re sure—sure, sure, sure—he wasn’t on the beach before that moment you saw him?” He leaned forward and looked at her hard.
“Yes, I’m sure. I am one of the most observant people I know, Richard. I couldn’t have missed him.”
For a few moments, they sat in silence. Richard tapped his thumb along the top edge of his coffee cup, and Sia watched a few ants powwow on the windowsill.
“Have there been any missing-person reports filed in the last few days?” she finally asked.
“Not locally,” Richard said. “I checked after we talked on the phone.”
“Statewide?”
“Not sure yet. I’ve got an officer working on that now.”
“Any escaped criminals?” She didn’t want to ask that one, but had to.
Richard looked up from his notes. “No, none. Are you worried about that?”
“Not much. Gumper would have sniffed that out immediately.”
“I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t get the feeling this man is a criminal.”
“No, I don’t either, but I’d like to be sure.”
“Understandable. We’ll run a check on that, too.” He stood, turned off the tape recorder, and handed his coffee mug to Sia.
• • •
Dozens of times since Richard and Jilly’s failed series of dates, Sia and Jilly had argued about Richard’s worth as a potential mate. Jilly wrote him off as boring, but Sia insisted she was wrong. Richard wasn’t boring; he was just one of those guys you could depend on, the one who always said kind things, who called his girl dearest, who didn’t make a move until the fifth or sixth date and even then nothing more than a peck. He was one of the good ones . . . not like the bozos Jilly hooked up with.
“Noble,” Sia said over and over again.
“B-O-R-I-N-G,” Jilly answered every time.
“But he’s so in love with you, Jil.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
“If he is, why don’t I know it?”
“He’s subtle. And a little shy.”
“Screw subtle. If some guy is walking around with a hard-on for me, I want to know it.” She paused. “And feel it.” Then she cracked up laughing and fell into a chair.
“Come on, Jil,” Sia said, “he’s cute. You have to admit he’s cute.”
“Yeah, he’s cute,” Jilly said. “I admit it. But cute alone doesn’t cut it.”
• • •
Richard’s success in life was a case of nature over nurture. Everyone in town knew that his parents had pretty much left him and his little brother to raise themselves. Sure, they’d kept the fridge stocked and took the boys for new clothes when necessary, but beyond that, parent-child interaction was minimal.
Surprisingly, both boys turned out well. William grew an impressively brilliant brain that took him not only to Stanford for his undergraduate degree on a full scholarship, but also to Harvard where he earned his medical degree, an equally brilliant wife, kudos for his successes, and eventually a paycheck that would one day allow him to choose whether to support his aging, needy parents.
Richard, as most expect from the older brother, stayed closer to home, but his sincere, poised demeanor got him voted most popular student at a nearby state college, where he studied criminology and sociology. After that, law enforcement made sense, and he went directly into the police academy from which he, too, graduated with honors. It wasn’t long after that he accepted a job just across the border from his hometown.
Thankfully that was ten years before Jackson disappeared and eleven years before Toad appeared, so Richard had had plenty of time to gain experience with the strange comings and goings of people, and even though he had been unable to unravel Jackson’s trail and bring him home, he’d tried like the devil to make it happen.
CHAPTER 31
For Jilly’s twenty-fifth birthday, Sia made her a list of all the “firsts” they’d shared throughout the years:
1st . . .
periods
death (Jillian’s mom: breast cancer)
blow jobs
nips of vodka (Stuart’s liquor cabinet)
sex
failed class in college
car wreck (Jilly driving, Sia in the passenger seat)
love
lost job
date with Jackson
“You forgot first best friend,” Jilly said after she’d read the list. “Of course.”
“Turn it over,” Sia said.
Jilly turned the paper. First (and only) best friend was written on the back. She grinned.
CHAPTER 32
“Do you like maps?” Jack said.
“I love maps.”
Sia unwrapped the world map from the shiny blue paper and unfolded it on the bed.
“Happy anniversary,” Jack said. Then he pinned the map on the wall behind them and they crawled into bed with a guidebook to China.
“I want to go to Tibet,” Sia said.
They turned the pages slowly.
“Ooh, and Xian to see the terra-cotta warriors. And Shanghai and Beijing. Here, listen to this . . .”
“Sssshhhh,” Jack said, burrowing under the sheets. “I’m going to follow the treasure map right now.” He pulled Sia’s panties down her thighs.
She giggled.
As Jack burrowed deeper, his muffled voice just barely made it to the surface.
“What did you say?” Sia asked, lifting the sheets.
“Do you like maps?”
“Oh, I loovvve maps.” She giggled again.
“Me, too,” Jack said.
• • •
In the morning, they stuck pins in all the places they wanted to visit in China. And the next night they bedded down with a guidebook to Peru.
Then Italy.
And Bali.
And Ireland.
Vietnam.
Russia.
South Africa.
India.
Egypt.
CHAPTER 33
“So what now?” Sia moved toward the sunroom where Toad was still planted in the same chair.
“I’d like to take him in,” Richard said.
“To the station?”
Richard nodded.
“How come?”
“We’ve got a psychologist who will want to talk to him. And my superiors probably will want a go at getting some information. He had to have come from somewhere.”
“Yeah, I know, but the station, Richard? Come on. He doesn’t have to spend the night in jail, does he?”
“No, I don’t think that’s where we are in this. As far as we know, the man hasn’t done anything wrong. But I don’t know where else to put him right now.” He checked his watch.
While he leaned on a table to take a few notes, Sia looked from the ceiling to the floor to the ceiling again. The fish was pirouetting, and all kinds of crazy things were whirling in her head. The one that felt closest and most right was the feeling that it was her mission to return this man to his family.
My mission? she thought. What mission?
And then before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Richard, Toad can stay with me tonight.”
Once the words were out there, the fish settled and there was this pause . . . this long, charged pause . . . that seemed to last forever.
Richard stood, tucked his notebook in his pocket, cocked his head to one side, and looked at her. “Sia, do you think that�
��s a good idea? I mean . . .” Clearly the noble king didn’t want to bring up the obvious. He was trying, as usual, to be respectful and discreet, and unlike Jilly, he was trying like hell not to say, THIS IS CRAZY. YOUR HUSBAND DISAPPEARED LAST YEAR. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he settled on, “That’s a big responsibility, you know.”
Sia laughed. “Nicely done,” she said, “but I can’t bear the thought of Toad spending the night at the station. He’s not guilty of anything.”
“He could be. We know nothing about this man.”
“It will be okay. Besides, I don’t want to disappoint Gumper.”
Through the doorway, she could see Gumper still lying in the sunroom at Toad’s feet. He’d rolled onto his back and was pressing his paws against Toad’s legs.
“Look at him, Richard. Taking Toad away right now would be like taking away his favorite rawhide.”
Richard poked his head into the sunroom. “I see what you mean. Okay, tell you what. The day is getting on, and it’s too late to get things moving now. He can stay here tonight, and I’ll be back in the morning to fetch him. After that, I don’t know what we’ll do. Deal?”
“Deal,” Sia said. She moved farther into the doorway and looked at Toad. He was sitting exactly as they’d left him—folded in a chair, hands on his knees, looking out the window.
• • •
Richard stuck his head back in after closing the screen door behind him. “Odyssia?”
“Mm.”
“I hate to have to ask this . . .”
“She didn’t see anything.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mrs. Windwill? That’s what you want to know, right? Did Mrs. Windwill see Toad appear on the beach this morning?”
Richard propped open the screen door with his foot and looked at the ground. Two flies grabbed their opportunity and zipped inside. “Well, yes. Of course, I’ll go talk to her. . . .”
“No need, Richard. She didn’t see a thing.”
“You talked to her?”
“I called her.”
“When?”
“Just after I called you.”
“And?”
“She slept in. Had a headache. Took a sleeping pill. And slept in.”
The Art of Floating Page 9