Sunset Beach(138)

The glass in all the windows of the now-vacant building had already been knocked out, leaving gaping holes in the fa?ade that resembled rotted-out teeth. A backhoe’s claw chewed into the top of the concrete structure and the roof collapsed inward.

“Cool,” Jonah said, awestruck.

Another backhoe on the south side of the building was busily ripping into the concrete foundation of what had been a three-story parking garage. With each bite into the building, the claw swivelled around and deposited a load of debris into the bed of one of a line of half a dozen dump trucks.

“Why are they digging a hole there?” Drue asked.

“I saw a rendering of the plans for the new spa in the paper,” Jonah said. “I think there’s going to be a new indoor pool there that’ll be connected by a wall of glass to a pool on the other side.”

His eyes were glued to the proceedings. “I always thought if I couldn’t be a lawyer, I would love to be a heavy equipment operator,” he said. “I don’t care what you say, that’s artistry, when you operate a machine like that.”

“Bulldozer ballet,” she muttered.

“Exactly.”

The sun beat down on her neck, and she was growing bored with the proceedings. “Can we go now?” she asked.

“In another minute,” he said, still mesmerized. As they watched, the backhoe clawed deep into the growing pit. A hard-hatted construction foreman in a yellow safety vest blew a whistle and at his direction, the driver of the first dump truck drove away.

The second dump truck driver pulled forward, but before he’d moved into position, the backhoe operator miscalculated and prematurely released the claw. Debris rained down over the bed of the dump truck and onto the ground.

The construction foreman stepped forward, looked at something on the ground and blew his whistle, wildly signaling for the backhoe driver to stop. The foreman blew the whistle again and again. The backhoe operator clambered down out of his cab, and joined the foreman at the bed of the dump truck.

“What’s going on?” Drue asked. “What are they looking at?”

“Let’s see,” Jonah said, shouldering through the crowd of rubberneckers, who were also moving closer.

A woman screamed then, and pointed at the ground, where a human skull balanced daintily atop a pile of jagged concrete and rebar.

Drue clutched Jonah’s hand. “You’ve been following all the stories about this new spa. Did you read anything about when the first phase of the hotel was built?”

“It wasn’t originally called the Gulf Vista. When it was built in seventy-six, it was called something else. Maybe the Treasure Chest? Why?”

She turned and walked as fast as she could, away from the construction site.

“What is it?” Jonah asked, catching up. “What’s wrong?”

“I think,” she said, “we’ve just seen Colleen.”





Epilogue


April 2019

The late-afternoon sun hung low on the horizon above the sparkling expanse of blue green sea. Drue sat beneath the shade of the beach tent the men had set up earlier in the day, watching the breeze ruffle the tent canopy.

“Miss Drue, Miss Drue,” Aliyah called, racing up to Drue’s chair.

“Shhh,” Drue cautioned, nodding at the infant carrier where her baby brother slumbered. “You’ll wake up Liam.”

Aliyah bent down and studied the drowsing child, who sucked contentedly on a Tiffany mother-of-pearl and silver-tipped pacifier, his perfect rosebud lips curved upward.

“He’s smiling,” she reported, looking up at the baby’s mother. “How come he’s smiling like that when he’s asleep?”

“He’s a happy little guy,” Wendy explained. “He usually only cries when he’s wet or hungry. And he always smiles like that when he’s asleep. I think it means he’s dreaming about something nice.”

“Like ice cream,” Aliyah said.

“Or a big juicy steak,” Corey suggested.

“Or puppies,” Jonah added, as he joined the group gathered under the shade of the tent.

“Or seven-figure insurance settlements,” Brice said. He plopped down onto the chair beside Wendy’s and handed her a cold drink.

“Eight-figure,” Wendy corrected him. “We’ve got college to fund now, remember?”

“Miss Drue,” Aliyah said in a stage whisper. “I want to show you something I can do.”

“All right,” Drue said, holding out a hand to Jonah, who helped her to her feet.

“But I need Mr. Jonah too,” Aliyah said. She reached into a beach bag and brought out her neon-green swim goggles, fastening them over her new eyeglasses.

The three of them trooped down to the water’s edge and Aliyah waded in without hesitation.

“Watch this,” she said, turning her back to an incoming wave, then diving headfirst into the crest and allowing the wave to carry her into the shallow water.

“You’re body surfing,” Drue said. “That’s great. Pretty soon we’ll have to get you a wakeboard.”

“Okay, but I really want one of those,” Aliyah said, turning to point at the same teenage kiteboarder who’d seemingly staked out this part of the beach over the past year. As they watched, the kite soared into the air, and she and her board skimmed over the surface of the water, the girl’s face etched with glee.