Dawn Patrol

109

Sunny takes a moment to watch the sun go down.

A bright red ball today, painting the sea a carmine red. Beautiful, dramatic, but somehow a little ominous. Tonight is the last night of your old life sort of thing. Indeed, the ocean's kicking it up. Getting it into gear. She can feel it in the air, in her blood. It makes her heart pound.

She watches it for a few moments and then starts to walk to her house. Chuck wanted her to work a double, but she wants to go home and get some rest before the big day tomorrow. She's walking home along the boardwalk when Petra catches up with her.

“Could I have a word with you?”

“Depends on the word,” Sunny says without stopping or even slowing down. Petra has to struggle to keep up with her long-legged stride.

“Please?”

“That always worked when I was a kid,” Sunny says. She stops and turns to look at Petra. “What do you want?”

Her subtext is clear to Petra: What do you want now? You already have the man I love. Sunny Day is a beautiful woman, Petra thinks, even more beautiful in the soft dusk that casts a glow on her face. Even clad in old jeans and a thick sweatshirt, and not wearing a bit of makeup, the woman is simply lovely.

“I just wanted to tell you,” Petra says, “that what you saw at Boone's cottage wasn't truly indicative of the reality of the situation.”

“In English?”

“Boone and I haven't been together. Sexually.”

“Well, yippee for you, Girl Scout,” Sunny says. “But don't let me stop you.”

She starts to walk away again.

Petra reaches out and grabs her elbow.

“If you want to keep that hand…” Sunny says.

“Oh, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“The tough-girl act.”

“You're going to find out it's no act,” Sunny says, “if you don't let go of my arm.”

Petra gives up. She drops her hand and says, “I just came to tell you something about Boone.”

She turns away. She's a few steps down the boardwalk when she hears Sunny call after her, “Hey, flatland babe? You don't have anything to tell me about Boone.”

“No, I suppose not,” Petra says. “My apologies.”

Sunny blows out a stream of air, then says, “Look, I've been slinging plates to a restaurant full of testosterone cases all day. I guess I'm a little aggro.”

“Aggravated.”

“Right,” Sunny says. “So what did you want to say about Boone?”

Petra tells her about Boone attacking Harrington.

“I'm not surprised,” Sunny says. “That's where it all started.”

“Where what all started?”

“Boone's…” She searches for words. “Boone going adrift, I guess.”

Petra asks, “What is his story, anyway?”

“What's his story?”

“I mean, I don't understand him,” Petra says. “Why he's so… under-employed… beneath his abilities. Why he left the police department…”

Sunny says, “It didn't work out.”

“What happened?”

Sunny gives a long sigh, thinks about it, and says, “Rain.”

“His daughter.”

“What?” Sunny says.

“Doesn't Boone have a daughter named Rain?” Petra asks. “I mean, I thought he had her with you, actually.”

“Where did you get that?” Sunny asks.

“I saw some pictures at his place.”

Sunny tells her the story of Rain Sweeny.

“I understand,” Petra says.

“No, you don't,” Sunny replies. “Boone still works that case. He never stops trying to find her. It eats him up.”

“But surely the poor girl is dead.”

“Yes, but Boone won't let it go.”

“Closure,” Petra says.

“Well,” Sunny replies, “Boone wouldn't know that word, or he'd pretend not to. But between you and me? Yeah, I guess ‘closure’ gets it done. Anyway, that's Boone's ‘story.’ As for you and him… Boone and me? We don't own each other. Now, if you don't mind, I have a wave to catch.”

Petra watches her walk away.

A golden girl on a golden beach.

Wonders how, and if, Boone could ever let her go.