Sanctuary

decent, normal man.”
    “Sometimes perfectly decent, normal men do the unthinkable.”
    Nathan studied Tom Peters as they approached. Late twenties, he decided, about five ten. He looked fit in wrinkled camp shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Probably worked out at the gym three or four mornings a week, Nathan thought. He had a good start on his vacation tan, and though the stubble on his chin gave him an unkempt appearance, his dark blond hair had been cut recently, and cut well.
    When he raised his head and Nathan saw his eyes, he saw only sick fear.
    “Mr. Peters. Tom.”
    “I don’t know where else to look. I don’t know what to do.” Saying the words out loud brought tears swimming into his eyes. He blinked them back, breathing rapidly. “My friends, they went to the other side of the island to look. I had to come back here. To come back here, just in case.”
    “You need to sit down.” Gently Jo took his arm. “Why don’t we go back up to your cottage and you can sit down for a while? I’ll make you some coffee.”
    “No, I can’t leave here. She came down here. She came down last night. We had a fight. We had a fight, oh, God, it’s so stupid. Why did we have a fight?”
    He covered his face with his hands, pressing his fingers against his burning eyes. “She wants to buy a house. We can’t afford it yet. I tried to explain to her, tried to show her how impractical it is, but she wouldn’t listen. When she stormed out I was relieved. I was actually relieved and thought, Well, now, at least I can get some sleep while she goes out and sulks.”
    “Maybe she took a swim to cool off,” Nathan prompted.
    “Susan?” Tom let out a short laugh. “Swim alone, at night? Not hardly. She’d never go in water past her knees anyway. She doesn’t like to swim in the ocean. She always says she hears cello music the minute it hits her knees. You know,” he said with a faint smile, “Jaws.”
    Then he turned back, staring out at the water. “I know people are thinking she might have gone swimming, she might have drowned. It’s just not possible. She loves to sit and look at the ocean. She loves to listen to it, to smell it, but she won’t go in. Where the hell is she? Goddamn it, Susan, this is a hell of a way to scare me into buying a house. I’ve got to go somewhere, look somewhere. I can’t just stand here.”
    He raced back toward the dunes and sent sand avalanching down as he rushed up and over them.
    “Do you think that’s what she’s doing, Nathan? Putting a scare into him because she’s angry?”
    “We can hope so. Come on.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “We’ll take the long way back to the cottage, keep our eyes peeled. Then we’ll take a break from this.”
    “I could use a break. From just about everything.”
    The wind was rising as they headed through the trough between the surfside dune hummocks and the higher, inland dunes where beach elders and bayberry stabilized the sand. Tracks scored the ground, the scratches from scudding ghost crabs, the three-toed prints from parading wild turkeys, the spots where deer had meandered to feed on seeds and berries.
    Human tracks had churned up the sand as well, and the wind would take them all.
    Despite the grazing, thousands of white star rush and fragile marsh pinks spread their color.
    Would she have walked this way, Jo wondered, alone, at night? It had been a clear evening, and a lonely beach drew troubled hearts as well as contented ones. The wind would have been stiff and fresh. And even after the tide receded, leaving the sand wet, the wind would have chased it along in streamers that scratched at the ankles.
    “She could have left her shoes down there,” Jo considered. “If she’d wanted to walk. She was angry, upset, wanted to be alone. It was a warm night. She might have headed down the shoreline, just following the water. That’s more likely than anything else.”
    She turned, looking out over the low hillocks to the sea. The wind lifted sand and salt spray, sending the sea oats waving, sifting a fresh coat over the pennywort and railroad vines that tangled.
    “Maybe they’ve found her by now.” Nathan laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll call and check when we get to the cottage.”
    “Where else would she have gone?” Jo shifted, to stare inland where the dunes crept slowly, relentlessly, toward the trees in smooth curves. “It would have been foolish to wander into the forest. She’d have lost