23

Insights from Vygotsky’s concept of the “zone of proximal development” have been useful to Tiger Woods and the US Department of Education. Why does the Irish potato famine suggest that such insights will be useless in the field of agriculture?

“I spoke with Nicole again,” I tell Kyle. We’re sitting on the patio behind the house, sipping coffee. “She remembered something else.”

“What, she just suddenly had a flash of insight?”

“Maybe it took a little prompting.”

“What did she remember?”

“A swimmer in a red cap and a crab boat way off in the distance. The swimmer is probably a woman, fast in the water.”

“So Gray Stafford did come from the water.”

“I think so.”

He leans back in his chair, gazing at the canyon. “Do you know how cold that water is? The riptide is a beast. Not to mention sharks.”

“Does the red cap ring a bell?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got nothing.”

With the new information, we have two potential leads to chase down, the swimmer or the boat. Personally, I like the swimmer. No real reason, just instinct.

Kyle leans the other way. “My money’s on a crab boat. Most of them dock at Pillar Point Harbor.”

“Want to check it out?” I feel myself pulling the threads, drifting further into the case, against my better judgment.

“Definitely.” But then he checks his watch, smacks his hand on the table. “Shit. I’ve got to be at East School in seventeen minutes for some PTA thing.”

“They’re really keeping you busy with the Mayberry stuff, huh?”

“An officer retired last week. With the personnel shortage, Chief Jepson insists we’ll need to focus more on presence and less on investigations.”

“Seems like a waste of talent.”

Kyle doesn’t respond, but I can tell the compliment pleases him. “Some other time,” I say. “Mind if I do a little digging on the swimmer?”

“Hell, no. That would be awesome.” He stands to leave.

“I should probably tell you I talked to someone else.”

“Who?”

“Gray Stafford. Met him at movie night. I met the parents too, sort of.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “They let you talk to him?”

“They didn’t want me to. They whisked him away pretty quickly.”

“The family therapist warned Mr. and Mrs. Stafford that talking to investigators too much could impede Gray’s recovery. We did two brief interviews with him, and then they shut us down, said he’d told us everything he knew.”

“Gray said something strange. At least I think he did.”

“What’s that?”

“He said, ‘Rory will be fine.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, but it was unsettling. Why wouldn’t he be fine?”

Competitive female swimmer, red swim cap. Not much to go on, but it’s something. After Kyle leaves, I google “Bay Area swim teams,” but the results are for high schools. Intramural and college teams are a better starting point. I think about the local colleges and their colors. Berkeley is blue, SF State is purple, Santa Cruz doesn’t do sports. Then it occurs to me that Stanford’s official color is cardinal red. I do an image search, disappointed to discover the Stanford swim team cap is white, emblazoned with a red S.

I search “Half Moon Bay swim team,” but I only get pictures of a high school swim meet. The school colors are orange and green. I try the other towns along the coast: Pescadero, nothing; San Gregorio, nothing; Moss Beach, no luck.

My search for “El Granada swim team” brings up an article about the annual Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon. Every June, two thousand athletes begin the triathlon with the grueling 1.5-mile swim from Alcatraz to Marina Green in San Francisco. For decades, the myth prevailed that no one could escape the infamous prison because the bay is too cold, the currents too strong, the sharks too plentiful. Yet now, every year, thousands of people voluntarily make the swim in a series of popular races.

The article mentions a woman from El Granada who won the swim portion of the triathlon seven years ago. There’s a photograph of her in the bay, facing the shore, one arm out of the water, one arm in. The photo was taken seconds before she won the race. She’s wearing a white bathing cap. Behind her, however, beneath the splashing water, I count three red dots, neck and neck.

I scan the rest of the article but find no mention of the swimmers who won second, third, and fourth place. I search for the race results from that year, women’s division. There she is, first place, the words “Montara Swim Team” beside her name, followed by an incredibly fast time. Beneath hers, three other nearly identical times are listed, but they’re not identified by name or city. Instead, it says “Dolphin Club.” Bingo.