28
“YOU’RE SURE SHE WAS PUKING,” CHARLES SAID, driving into the parking lot of Jones Beach West End One.
“Yes,” Casey said. “And she knew Devon Roper’s phone number, I could tell. He’s been giving her drugs. Or somebody has. I saw them on her desk the other night. With a strange note. ‘From a secret admirer.’ I wish I had said something. I wish I hadn’t taken so long.”
“This is creepy,” Charles said. “We’re chasing her down like the junior FBI.”
“We were heading to her house to talk, just as she drove away,” Casey reminded him. “What else were we supposed to do? And where can she have gone? We’ve checked almost every parking lot.”
She squinted into the distance, scanning the periphery of the lot. Just outside the pool of light from a street lamp, a minivan sat at an odd angle.
Charles saw it too. “That’s hers!” he said.
He pulled into a spot and they both climbed out.
Casey ran to the boardwalk and looked out over the sand. There wasn’t much light, but she could spot a dark figure by the water. “Look, there she is.”
“That can’t be her,” Charles said. “That person is going into the water. La Glaser would not—”
Casey broke into a run. “COME ON!”
She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Brianna was running toward the water in her underwear.
No, not even that.
“OH MY GOD! BRIANNA! BRIANNAAAAA!” Casey shouted.
Brianna was in the water now. Stepping high, being battered by waves that broke at her knees. She was making a sound, too. Something like a moan.
Casey ran after her, into the surf. Her footing gave way and she fell. The shock of the water made her gasp. Water slapped against her face. The darkness turned white and she felt her heart lurch.
Behind her, Charles was screaming. “Casey, what are you doing?”
Casey struggled to her feet. Charles’s arm hooked under hers, pulling her upward. They both charged deeper in. The cold stung.
“Brianna, where are you?” Charles shouted.
She was gone. Casey couldn’t see her.
“GEEEEAAHHHH!”
There. Ten feet in front of them, her head broke out of the water. Brianna was flailing. “Oh God!” she screamed.
Charles dived. He came up next to Brianna and grabbed her hand. “Help!” he cried out.
Casey fought to keep conscious. She couldn’t feel her own hands and feet. She sank back into the water and pushed herself forward. Somehow that was better, but not by much.
“Put her arm arr-r-r-round your sh-sh-sh—” Charles stammered.
Casey willed her own arm to move. She was shaking. It took three tries. “Got her!”
A swell of water lifted them up, off the sandy bottom. Sideways and backward.
“K-k-kuh—” Charles gasped.
Kick. Casey moved her legs. Scissoring against the current.
It wasn’t working. They were getting farther away from the shore.
As Casey’s feet reached bottom again, another wave bounced them high. Casey went under and emerged, coughing. Her lungs felt as if they had been flayed open. She coughed, trying to keep her head up. Seawater came through her mouth and nose. She struggled to hold tight to Brianna.
“Are y-y-y-you ok-k-kay?” Charles shouted.
“NO!” Casey replied.
Brianna was going limp. The current was tugging them back and to the right. Out to sea.
A spit of rocks was the only thing between them and the ocean.
The jetty.
Casey moved sideways, with Charles. They were heading past the tip of the jetty, out to sea. She began fighting the current again, but this time just trying to change the path slightly . . .
She could feel Charles pulling hard. He was a strong swimmer. She kicked . . . kicked . . .
Her breath was starting to give out, her eyes blurring. Casey felt herself letting go of Brianna.
She lost her. She lost contact with everything. And she was falling, being enveloped by darkness.
Sinking.
Alone.