Lovely Girls by Margot Hunt
For Sam
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
PROLOGUE
Jessie Garner and Sylvia Chen met every morning at seven o’clock to walk the beach.
Despite both being in their late seventies, they made for an incongruous pair. Jessie was tall with long legs, an iron-rod posture, and a short shock of white hair she refused to color on the principle that aging was normal and everyone should get over it. Sylvia was of Chinese descent, had a sheath of shiny dark locks she was secretly extremely vain about, and was so much shorter than Jessie, she had to walk nearly twice as fast to keep up with her friend.
Although friend might be stretching it. The two women didn’t have much in common, other than their fondness for early-morning exercise and a preference for walking with a companion. Sylvia occasionally doubted the latter. Jessie could be a handful. This morning, she was on a tirade about the condo board meeting that had been held the previous evening for the high-rise beachside building they both lived in. Sylvia was not on the board and so hadn’t been at the meeting. You couldn’t pay her to be on the board, especially after hearing all Jessie’s rants on the subject.
“I proposed an amendment to the HOA rules that residents should be limited in the number of guests they can have at the pool at any given time.” Jessie swung her arms forcefully as she walked, her hands fisted. “Last week, Elizabeth McNamara had all five of her grandchildren at the pool, and they were running around like little hooligans.”
“I don’t know,” Sylvia said. It annoyed her that she always felt obliged to keep her tone mild and nonconfrontational around Jessie, and yet she always did. “I think it’s nice when there are little ones around.”
“Oh, please.” Jessie snorted with disgust. “There’s nothing pleasant about trying to enjoy a beautiful afternoon reading by the pool and having your peace and quiet ruined by a bunch of screaming snot-nosed kids. I can’t believe the board voted my amendment down.”
Sylvia stifled a sigh. She knew it wasn’t worth getting into an argument with Jessie about kids playing in a pool, but still. Jessie always thought she knew everything about everything. It could be so tiresome. Was putting up with her bluster preferable to walking on her own?
The tide was out, and the two women were strolling on the wet stretch of sand the ocean had recently ceded. Jessie—always wary of stepping on a beached jellyfish—wore neoprene water shoes. Sylvia preferred to walk barefoot. She loved the feeling of the sand giving way under her feet while the cool water lapped up over her toes. The sun was rising in delicious ribbons of pink and orange. It was going to be a beautiful day, Sylvia thought. The forecast promised temperatures in the eighties, low humidity, and a gentle surf. On days like this, their South Floridian town was truly paradise.
“Look at that.” Jessie pointed at a pile of charred logs midway up the beach. “Someone must have had a bonfire last night.” She made a tutting sound, her tongue clicking against the back of her teeth. “I thought the police were supposed to be cracking down on that.”
“I suppose they can’t patrol every section of the beach. It’s too much ground to cover.”
“But how could they miss a fire? You can see them from a distance. I honestly don’t know what we pay taxes for if they’re not going to—”
“What’s that?” Sylvia interrupted. She peered at something ahead on the beach. No, not something. It was someone. Was it a woman? The light was still dim enough that Sylvia couldn’t immediately tell. No, Sylvia realized with dawning horror as they drew closer. Not a woman. She looked younger than that. A teenager. And . . . was it possible . . . was what she was seeing true? And yet . . . Sylvia felt a lurch in her stomach, quickly followed by a growing horror.
“Is that girl naked?” Jessie exclaimed.
“I think so.”
“This is unacceptable,” Jessie huffed. “She’s probably homeless and sleeping on the beach. I bet she’s the one who set the bonfire.” She took out her phone. “I’m going to call the police.”
But Sylvia didn’t hear her. Instead, she started walking faster and then began running toward the girl, her arms pumping, her splayed feet leaving deep imprints in the wet sand. There was something unnatural about the way the girl’s body was lying, one leg bent behind her, the opposite arm splayed out on the sand.
It didn’t look like she was asleep.
She looked like . . . and then Sylvia reached her. The girl’s eyes were open, staring blankly up. Her lips were drawn back in a grimace, her teeth bared. Her skin had an unnatural bluish cast.
Sylvie retched and turned away, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Call the police!” she screamed back at Jessie. “She’s not asleep! She’s . . .” Sylvia looked back again and shuddered. “Oh, my God! I think she’s dead!”
PART ONE
Before She Died
CHAPTER ONE
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VIDEO DIARY OF ALEX TURNER
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AUGUST 1
I’m Alex Turner, and this is my video diary.