Zack stopped pedaling. He lifted the towel from his neck and mopped his face with it.
“Look, Dad. You dragged me to stupid North Carolina and I’m just trying to make the best of it, okay?” He got off the bike. “I’m going over to the cardio-kick boxing class. I can walk home. You don’t have to wait for me.”
Rory watched him walk away. Cardio-kick boxing Zack had gone to the one place in the gym where Rory could never hope to follow him. And he certainly knew it.
After leaving the gym, Rory drove to the cul-de-sac and parked his car in Poll-Rory’s driveway, but didn’t go inside. Linda’s big female golden retriever, Melissa, was waiting for him on his front steps, and he decided to take that as a sign. It was time he picked Linda’s brain about the summer of ‘77.
He walked down the cul-de-sac to the cottage nearest the beach road, Melissa at his side. The dog ran up the porch steps ahead of him, and Rory knocked on the screen door, instantly setting off a cacophony of barking from inside the cottage.
In a moment, a woman with chin-length red hair came to the door. A mass of gold fur swirled around her legs. Four dogs, at least. The woman looked at him just for a second before breaking into a smile.
“Hello, Rory Taylor,” she said.
“Hi.-Jackie, is it?”
“That’s right.” She opened the door just enough to reach out and shake his hand, then glanced down at Melissa, who hadn’t budged from his side.
“I heard Melissa’s become your little groupie,” she said.
“She’s our escape artist, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been enjoying her company,” he said, scratching the top of Melissa’s head.
“Are you looking for Linda?” Jackie asked.
“If she’s not busy.”
“She’s been expecting you to stop by. I guess you’ve been talking to people who were here back when Shelly Cato was found, huh?”
“I’ll talk to anybody who’s willing to talk to me,” he said.
“Stay there a second.” Jackie disappeared inside the cottage, and in a moment Linda came onto the porch, three bottles of beer clasped between her hands and four dogs at her heels.
“Hey, Rory!” She offered him a broad, white grin.
“Let’s go up on the deck.”
He was momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of her reception, although her greeting the day he’d met her on the beach had been equally as exuberant. The quiet, painfully shy girl from years ago no longer appeared to | exist.
He followed Jackie and Linda and their large, blond retrievers up the winding wooden stairway to the small deck. Linda handed him one of the beers and motioned for him to sit on the lounge chair. The dogs sniffed and wagged around him, and Melissa rested her head on his thigh. | “So.” Linda leaned forward, elbows on knees, the beer | in her right hand.
“You’re trying to find out who deserted Shelly on the beach.”
“That’s right,” Rory said.
“I know it was a long time ago, but I thought I would see what you remembered.”
“I’ve tried to forget those years, actually,” Linda said, still smiling.
“They were kind of rough for me.”
He nodded his understanding. He had gay friends and knew that in many cases, their adolescent years had not been easy.
“Well, you seem great now,” he said.
“What kind of work are you doing?”
“Besides raising too many dogs? Teaching. Jackie and I both teach at Duke.”
“I’m math,” Jackie said.
“Linda’s literature.”
Rory grimaced at the combination.
“And you two get along?” he asked.
“Most of the time.” Linda laughed.
“So,” Jackie said, crossing one leg over the other, “tell me what Linda was like when she was a kid.”
Linda laughed again.
“We’re not talking about me, Jack. We’re talking about all those rowdy kids who used to live on the cul-de- sac.”
“Rowdy?” Rory asked.
“I didn’t think they were anything unusual.”
“That’s because you were one of them,” Linda said.
