The dog took care of business quickly, but Allie looped the leash over her wrist and made her way down the rickety wooden stairs leading to the beach. The morning was too lovely to spend inside, and the beach called to her. Out of long habit, she headed toward the Canaveral jetty. The sand felt cool under her bare feet, as she walked along at the water line, and the bottoms of her jeans were drenched within seconds. The dog padded along beside her, leaving dainty paw prints in their wake. The ocean rolled gently up onto the sand, turning it to liquid bronze, as the early morning sun reflected across the broad expanse. The tide was coming in, not with a vengeance as it sometimes did, but tentatively, as if testing the shore. In an hour, the beach would be half the size and no longer deserted, but for now, it seemed to stretch endlessly with undisturbed sand as far as she could see. Gulls swooped overhead, screeching for breakfast, and Allie found herself smiling at the sandpipers darting along in front of her, racing the waves onto the beach, and then following them back out again, as they pecked at the sand in their never-ending quest for food.

She and Lou had walked here often, content to be together. Now, Lou’s voice echoed in Allie’s head as if she were beside her still. “This is where you belong, Allie. Here. You were meant to live this life. Not that marrying Garrison was a mistake. Our paths aren’t usually straight, and it’s out of the scar tissue from the bumps along the way that our wisdom grows. He made you unhappy, but that unhappiness forced you to decide to leave him. Your decision was a good one, and I’m so proud of you.”

Allie blinked and glanced around, as a wave broke against her leg, soaking her jeans to the knee. No one was there, only the little dog at the end of its leash, staring up at her in confusion, as water dripped off its ears. Shaking herself, she headed back toward dry sand.

A few early risers appeared in the distance, stooping to pick up the few seashells washed ashore overnight. Allie walked more slowly as she neared the jetty that she still loved, even though the state had re-created it in their bureaucratic image, making it safe and profitable. Once there, she started to turn back, but the dog let out a sharp yap and started at a run toward the water, yanking the leash out of her hand. Spook stopped at the edge of the water and barked frantically. Allie could see something floating up against the rocks. Trash? She felt indignation well up inside her. Typical. The tourists threw trash off the jetty or off their boats all the time, never giving a thought to what it would do to the environment.

The dog’s ear-splitting series of yips set Allie’s teeth on edge. She waded out a couple of feet. Maybe it wasn’t trash. Up closer, it looked like a fish, belly up. The sun caught on something metal. A hook? As she moved toward it, she could see bright colors floating under the water. Not a fish, then. She was almost on it now.

A wave slapped against the thing, rolling it over in the water. Realization dawned slowly. Not a fish. An arm attached to a body, a female body with long blonde hair undulating beneath the surface. The hideous and distorted face stared straight up, sightless eyes directed at the sky. Allie registered another flash of light, as the sun reflected on an earring. She felt a scream well up in her throat, breaking free, as she turned and sloughed her way through the waist-deep water, splashing her way to shore.