Dark Beach - By Lauren Ash Page 0,28
down to the beach, Jenny lost sight of them until they reappeared farther down the shore, heading in the opposite direction.
“They have a trail. I know it.” She paced, fidgeting with her cell phone. Eventually, after what seemed like an hour, she decided to sit.
KNOCK, KNOCK. KNOCK, KNOCK.
Jenny startled awake. What? I feel asleep! She sat up in the rocking chair, recalling the situation and trying to determine whether it had all been a dream. With a yawn, she got up and opened the door to two very wet policemen. It was not a dream.
“Ma’am, we found a trail, but the tide eventually washed it away.”
“So I didn’t imagine it,” she murmured.
The rookie officer cocked his head in confusion. “Excuse me, ma’am? We found very large boot prints. They were very clear.”
“Oh nothing, nothing. I’m just happy you found something. Don’t mind me, I’ve been here alone now for a few days. You see my husband had to go back to work.”
“Yes, we know. He called us.”
Jenny nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s right. Sorry. I’m just so exhausted. With all of this nonsense going on ... I don’t know what to think.”
The older officer put a hand on the doorframe. “We don’t think you need to worry, ma’am.” His tone was serious but reassuring. Whoever it was has left. No signs of him.” He shone a flashlight toward the windows. “No signs of forced entry. But we want you to call immediately if he comes back. He’s probably just a prowler, looking to see if the house is vacant or something. Do you have any sort of home protection?”
Jenny racked her brain, thinking of the knife. “Uh ... my dog?”
“What sort of dog is it?” the younger officer asked.
“A dachshund.”
They both just looked at her.
“Do you have a gun?” asked the older cop.
“No. No gun. I don’t know how to use one anyway.”
“Your dog may warn you of an intruder, but you should be prepared. Maybe you should consider installing an alarm system? Just call us if you notice anything unusual or suspicious. We’ll write up a report tonight and do the rounds by here for the next few weeks. How long will you be staying, ma’am?”
“You can call me Jenny. What are your names?”
“I’m Sheriff Browning,” the older officer answered, and then gestured to the rookie. “This is Deputy Mott.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’ll be here another week or two. I may go home early. I haven’t decided.”
“In any case, we’ll be about if you need us. Here’s my card with my office number if you think of anything.”
A crackle from the radio in the police car indicated it was time to go; some other emergency. Jenny shut the door behind them, locked and checked all the doors and windows, checked on Kip, and went right to bed, falling into another blank, dreamless slumber.
***
By the time she awoke, the morning had almost passed. Jenny found Kip downstairs on the sofa, devouring a box of cereal, half of which had been spread all over the living room floor. The carpet had acquired a new, polka-dotted pattern of Cheerios.
“Kip! You’re a rascal, come here.”
Kip smiled and continued eating. Jenny walked over, picked her daughter up and flung her over her shoulder. “Here, I’ll add some milk to it.” She set Kip down at the table.
Kip continued to eat while Jenny fixed herself some fried eggs on toast.
“Ten o’clock. What kind of time is that to wake up?” she asked, more to herself than the toddler.
Kip, too busy eating, ignored the question.
“Next time I sleep in, I want you to come get me. You hear me? Come get Mamma.”
Kip nodded. “Mamma.”
“You shouldn’t be up all alone down here. You could get into God-knows-what?” Jenny glanced at the knife on the counter, which she had forgotten to put back, and the glass still littering the floor. “Jesus!”
“Jesus.” Kip repeated.
“Don’t say that, Kip. Don’t say what I say; that’s the last thing you should do.”
“Jesus,” Kip said again, aware she was in some sort of trouble.
“Okay, okay. It’s my fault and I know it.” She looked around the room again. “This place certainly isn’t toddler proof.”
She swept up the glass and then, in between bites of egg and toast, examined the room and moved anything breakable out of the reach of small sticky hands. That included every fragile beach ornament Gerry had collected over the years.
“There, I think that’ll do it for now,” she said, wondering what she was going to do about the