“Nothing but the guy’s age and stuff like that. Of course if his finger tips hadn’t been nibbled off they could have taken prints.”
“And the Cyclops tattoo?”
“They’re still looking into it. I think as far as the sheriff is concerned, finding the owner of that arm is a low priority right now.”
“That’s too bad. Seems to me there could be something important getting missed.”
“You never know what will turn up eventually. I thought you weren’t all that interested?”
“I wasn’t. But mysteries have always been that way with me. If I’m inconvenienced by one I get annoyed and won’t give it my attention. Then one day I’ll suddenly remember it and I’ll want to know what happened.”
Mitch zipped up his jacket and peered outside. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes and up close Ann thought she saw a deep bruise healing were the shadow of his hat covered his upper forehead. She wanted to ask him if he’d gotten
“I wouldn’t waste any more time thinking about it, Ann.”
“I won’t.”
“Hey, if you feel like it maybe you’ll want to stop in at the 101 and say hello to Tammy. With me being gone a lot she’s been pretty starved for talk.”
“She doesn’t get her fill at the 101?”
“Only chit chat, you know. She’s always liked your company, Ann. Told me that she misses those days when the two of you used to go out kayaking together.”
“Maybe I’ll stop in. I’ve got to run an errand first.”
“Mrs. Notham?”
“You got it.”
Mitch forced a smile. “When I worked for your aunt that one summer, I probably went out to her place four days a week. Can’t say it wasn’t worth it, she always tipped me with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.”
“She’s still at it.”
“It’s a good thing some things don’t change. Well, I better get moving.” Mitch grasped the brim of his hat with his good hand and hunched outside. It was still early afternoon and yet the distant mountain range was darkened as if it were much later. The rain was coming down sideways, warmed by the tropical trough from which it had descended. Ann watched Mitch get into his patrol car and pull back onto the highway. She wondered what the sheriff needed him for. There was something changed in his voice. His normal, easy-going tone seemed replaced by a poor imitation, and Ann had sensed that he was hoping she wouldn’t notice the difference. He’s trying to cover up his stress, she reminded herself. They’ve got more on their plate than I can possibly imagine.
Ann thought about Tammy, of how they’d drifted apart. At one time in their lives they’d been inseparable. When you were young, she thought, you had that feeling that you and your friends were like passengers on the same ship cruising into the future. Boyfriends would come and go, but you’d always be there for each other in the aftermath of tears.
In their junior year they’d both taken up kayaking. It was their way of getting away from everyone and clearing their heads. Some weekend mornings they’d launch from a pebbled beach into thick fog. The tide would be coming in and they’d paddle with it for hours. And then as the fog cleared, they’d find themselves far up a river that fed into the bay, surrounded by forests busy with kingfishers and bald eagles and they’d come onto shore and eat lunch and talk until it was time to put in again and let the changing tide pull them back to the sea. That was what made fighting the current all worthwhile-lying back in the sun and letting it take you on its silver back to wherever your mind wanted to go.
Chapter 4
After Ann helped carry Walter’s groceries to his car, she returned to the register and sat down with the local paper to finish an article she’d started earlier about minus tides. An extremely low minus tide was expected in two days, exposing places along the coastline and the bay that hadn’t been seen for years. When the last one occurred the remains of ancient trees had been unearthed-tar-black, seaweed-bearded stumps mostly-as well as the bleached skeletal remains of an old ship had been discovered. Ann was no stranger to the low tides, and when she was younger she would set her alarm clock so she could get down to the beach and see what she could find. The sensation was always unusual-to be able to finally walk around starfish-covered boulders and tide pools that were normally inaccessible.
It wasn’t surprising to Ann that the dramatically low tides had found a permanent niche in her subconscious. She would often dream about them-find herself walking ever further away from the beach she knew and into a subterranean world of unusual landscapes and sunken treasure. Normally such dreams were pleasant and hard to let go, but occasionally they would turn into nightmares. One in particular involved the large seamount that stood a quarter mile off the coast and provided a home to puffins and gulls. Ann dreamed that she was able to walk out to it and climb up it, and when she got to the top she discovered a secret house carved deep into the basalt. There was no one there when she went inside-only musty maps and brass telescopes-but fascinating anyway and in the dream she’d become so distracted that she’d forgotten to keep an eye out for the incoming tide. When she did finally look out of the stone turret, the tide was all the way in to shore and she’d been faced by the terrifying realization that she was trapped.
A couple of tourists from the Midwest came in to buy candy and postcards, peppered her with questions about the area and how bad the storms got. Ann told them about a battering winter storm a couple of years earlier. How the waves had broken through the picture windows of a beachfront restaurant and carried away an entire bar in the middle of the night. People were still finding full bottles, some crusted with barnacles from years at sea, but amazingly the contents were still drinkable. It was funny how the sea would hang on to things before letting them go. Some of the lost bottles that were returned to the restaurant were even put on display.
Not long after the couple left, a poorly kept muscle car pulled into the parking lot. Its hood was freckled with rust. There were several dents in the front bumper and part of the grill was reattached with balling wire. Ann had no idea who it belonged to. No one got out, but she could hear its throaty engine when the driver fed it gas. The headlights stayed on and the windshield was too fogged to see who was inside. Was the driver staking out the store? Am I going to get robbed while nobody’s around? She jumped when the phone rang, and as she lifted the receiver to her ear she noticed the car back out and speed away.
“Traver’s Market.”
“What’s the matter, Ann?” asked her Aunt Kate.
“Nothing.”
“You sound out of breath.”
“I just got spooked is all. Someone must have changed their mind about coming inside. Or maybe they just pulled over to read their map. It’s already getting dark out. Must mean the storm is coming earlier than they thought.”
“Then why don’t you close up a little early?”
“But it’s only 4:15.”
“That’s fine honey. I just put some potatoes in the oven for dinner. I doubt if there’s going to be much more business today.”
“But Mrs. Notham always comes in just before I close to pick up something she forgot. Yesterday it was shortening, and the day before she needed aspirin.”
“Then why don’t I give her a call and check. If she needs something you could drop it off on your way home.”
“I’m sure there will be
“That’s alright by me. God knows I don’t need any of those things lying around here. I didn’t realize you and Tammy were still close.”
