Don Winslow - Dawn Patrol

The same cross and chain that Dan Silver took out of his pocket just before Tammy flipped on her testimony.

So it was no setup, Boone thinks, at least not on Tammy's part. She was responding to a threat. Silver has the girl, whoever she is, and he was letting Tammy know that the right words had better come out of her mouth.

Boone takes the picture out and looks on the back. A child's handwriting.

Te amo,

Luce

Well, at least we have a name now, Boone thinks. At least the kid has a name.

But who is she? Boone wonders. And why is her picture on the inside of a medicine cabinet door? Why do you hide a picture but want to be reminded of it every day? How does a stripper meet a mojada girl? And why does she care?

Think, think, he tells himself, trying to fight through the fatigue that's smacking at him as the adrenaline drains. Tammy left Mick and went to Teddy. Why?

Go back to your cop days, he thinks. Chronology. Do the time line. Tammy leaves Mick just after the fire at Danny's warehouse. She becomes obsessed with making money; she spends her time with Angela; she goes to Teddy.

Teddy and she start going up to Oceanside. But if they're not having sex, what are they doing? Teddy knew right where to go to find the girl. Right down into the reeds by the old Sakagawa strawberry fields. Obviously, he'd been there before… with Tammy.

And not just once, but lots of times between the fire and… the arson trial.

At which Tammy does a 180.

If you'd seen what I've seen.

What, Tammy, what did you see?

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.

Sunny wonders the same thing.

She gets back to her place, peels off her sweatshirt, and flings it against the wall. Is it really over over with Boone and me? Can he just let me go like this?

I guess so, she thinks, recalling the image of the little Brit curled up on Boone's couch. Even if what she said about not having sex with Boone was true, it's only a matter of time. The woman is pretty, Sunny thinks. A total betty. Of course Boone would want her.

Yeah, but it's more than sex, isn't it? Sunny thinks as she goes to her computer to log on to the surf report. She's so different, this chick, and maybe that's the point. Maybe Boone wants something totally different for his life, and that's fair.

So do I.

And it's coming. She sees it on the screen. A big whirling splash of red spinning its way toward her, bringing the hope of a different life.

The hope and the threat, she thinks.

Am I ready for this?

Ready for change?

I guess that's what Boone wants.

Is it what I want?

She sits down in front of her little statue of Kuan Yin-the female personification of the Buddha and the Chinese goddess of compassion-and tries to meditate, clear all this relationship shit out of her head. There's no room for it right now. The big swell is coming, it will be here tonight, and she'll be in the water at first light and will need every ounce of concentration and focus she possesses to ride those waves.

So breathe, girl, she tells herself.

Push out the confusion.

Breathe in the clarity.

It's coming.

Dave the Love God tries to tell Red Eddie the same thing.

He sits on the deck of the new lifeguard station at PB, looking out at an ocean that is getting sketchier by the second, and tries to tell Eddie that, basically, it's not a fit night for man or beast, or boatloads of boo.

Eddie's not buying it. He thinks it's shaping up to be a perfect night to do this-black, foggy, and the Coast Guard sticking close to shore. “You are Dave the motherfucking Love God!” he says. “You're a freaking legend. If anyone can do this…”