Sin City Homicide

EPILOGUE

Stanton sat on his surfboard, letting the waves lap against his legs. The water was warm, and he wished he didn’t have to wear a wetsuit. He enjoyed the sensation of water against his skin.

He waited for his set and caught a good wave that rocketed him back to shore. He hopped up on the board and cut across the wave before spinning back around to go the other way. He had to crouch to get under the wave, and eventually, it swallowed him. His world spun, and his ears filled with the sound of rushing water and the heartbeat of the ocean. The ocean was alive. It fed, nurtured, reproduced, and could die if it wasn’t looked after.

He didn’t move at first. He was face down, looking at the clear blue water below him. He wondered how far down he could swim before his lungs burned and he was forced to come back up for air. He had the sudden urge to dive down and put his feet in the sand at the bottom, to bury them and walk along the bottom of the ocean just to see what was there.

He popped back up to the surface, taking a large gulp of air, and found his board. He got on and paddled back to shore.

Ocean Beach Park was his favorite place to surf in all of San Diego. The locals weren’t rude, but they disliked outsiders just enough that few novices wanted to surf there. It wasn’t a difficult beach, and the waves were always manageable, but there was something about the enjoyment of surfing that correlated directly to how many people were out there. Surfing was meant to be enjoyed alone, as a time to re-establish a connection with nature that people lost as they grew older and more civilized.

Stanton found his beach towel and lay down, feeling the hot sun on his face. His cell phone was tucked under the towel. He pulled it out and checked for missed calls. There was one from “MM.” He called the number back.

Mindi answered on the first ring. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. How’s the surfing going?”

“How’d you know I was surfing?”

“What else would you be doing?”

“It was good. You told me the other day you really wanted to go. When are you gonna come out here so I can teach you?”

A shadow fell over Stanton. He put his hand over his eyes and saw Mindi standing there, the phone to her ear.

“Soon,” she said.

He jumped to his feet. She smiled, kissed him, and put her arms around him. He looked out over the ocean as she held him. A heron dipped into the waves and came back out, slick and wet as it flew away. The ocean was alive, and it held the promise that all living things held: no matter what, tomorrow would always be better.