I let Curt make the call to the police while I sat at the kitchen island trying to drink Howard's brandy. I'd heard brandy calmed frazzled nerves. I'd heard wrong. I poured it down the drain, rinsed the glass, and stood staring at the flat screen television on the wall. There was an infomercial pushing life-altering megavitamins. The pitchman was yelling at the top of his lungs about how my life would suffer beyond all imagination if I didn't plunk down $49.99 per month for auto shipment. At the moment I couldn't imagine it getting much worse.
Curt appeared in the doorway. "Come on. We have to go meet the cops on the beach."
I didn't want to go back to the beach. Annie was on the beach.
"You don't have to see her," he told me, as if he'd read my mind. "I'll take them to her while you wait. But they'll want to talk to both of us."
I shut off the TV and switched off the light. Curt set the alarm, and we left the house. On the way back to the beach, he said, "Are you absolutely sure it's Annie Hollander? People do change as they get older. High school was a long time ago."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Not that long ago. And yes, I'm sure." I thought back. "She always had this look about her, this timidity. She was unsure of herself, and I think that some kids saw that as a weakness, and an opportunity."
Curt squeezed my hand. "I'm sure she wasn't the person you knew in high school."
That was the thing. I hadn't known Annie in high school, not really. I'd seen her every day, passed her in the halls, probably shared a class with her along the way. But it hadn't gone much beyond that. I hadn't exactly lit the cliquish high school world on fire myself. I'd had strong opinions about everything but had been too shy to express them. My grades had been good, but not great. I wasn't an AP student or a stellar athlete. I hadn't stood out in any way.
Come to think of it, maybe I was the same person I'd been in high school.
We heard sirens approaching and hustled across the sand in the direction of Annie's body. The east wind had stiffened, blowing in off the ocean, picking up sand and grit along the way and flinging it in our faces. A storm might be moving in. Sudden thunderstorms were par for the course in the summertime. I only hoped the police were finished with their business before the sky opened up.
The sirens mrllled down to a stop behind us. Flashing red lights scraped over the beach. Up ahead, I could see a set of headlights as a police department four-wheel drive bumped across the sand in our direction.
"She's right around here," I called over the cacophony of wind and crashing waves. "Look for her knee."
We looked. No knee.
"Maybe we came too far," Curt said.
I shook my head. "We were just to the right of that jetty. Maybe the wind covered her up again."
Two officers got out of the four-wheel drive. They left the head beams on, giving us a clear view of the foot-deep crater in the sand where Annie's body had been.
The crater was empty.