Some days, when I went home early—a rare occasion—I liked to take a dip in the water of the hidden stretches of beach close to my apartment.

The walk home was only a ten minute stroll. I walked along the sidewalk out front of a stretch of shops. The further I walked, the more I caught sight of the ocean, heading straight for it. The summer breeze carried the smell of the salty waves through the air, putting me at ease.

Shop owners cleaned their hanging racks and signs outside their little stores and brought them inside. Most of the tourists had fled to the most popular restaurants in town for dinner, leaving the streets open to the locals who knew better.

Three years ago, I never would’ve walked home when the sun was already dipping and I was alone. The police had made it all but mandatory to travel in groups and avoid being out after dark.

Many credited strict curfews and regulations as what drove the killer away. Maybe they moved on to a new town, or maybe they were already rotting in a prison cell for another crime.

Something in my gut, though, told me they were lying in wait for the right time to return. I never thought the Coastal Killer was done.

A hand on my shoulder had me tripping over my steps and my heart completely stopping in my chest.

“I thought that was you,” a deep voice said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to steady me.

I was so deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t even heard the footsteps behind me. My heart raced, and I took a deep breath, recognizing the voice and turning to find my brother next to me.

“Off early?” he asked.

“Hey, Calvin,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Francis forced us all out because she had some fancy cleaning service coming. I think her exact words were these exhibits better shine.”

I laughed remembering her frantically shoving us out the door promptly at closing.

“So, the workaholic had no choice but to go home and relax for once?” he asked, raising a brow, a grin spreading across his lips.

“I’m not a workaholic,” I said, pushing his arm off my shoulder and scowling.

“Perfect. So, you’ll stop by for dinner next Friday, right?”

Shit.

He had been trying to get me to come over for dinner with him and his wife for months. I’d only seen their new house once.

“I-” I tried.

“No excuses, Len,” he scolded. “Mom and Dad barely hear from you. We live in the same town, and I barely get to see you. You can do one dinner.”