‘Okay. Not what I was expecting, but okay.’

‘I thought about it with Justin, but we never did.’

‘Well, it doesn’t sound weird to me,’ Annalie said. ‘It sounds sweet. Someday you may feel differently, but until then, do what you want. Or don’t do what you want.’

‘You have sex, right?’ When Annalie hesitated, Peach added: ‘Sorry, I’m being too personal. I’m not good with boundaries.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not celibate, but I’m pretty conservative. I don’t go jumping into bed. I have to be awfully close to a guy, and that hasn’t happened a lot.’

‘Is it worth it? It seems like sex causes nothing but problems.’

‘You’re right about that,’ Annalie said.

Their conversation was interrupted. Near the beach, the two teenagers at Frank Macy’s table got up, grabbing purses, headed for the bathroom. When Macy was alone with his Asian companion, he leaned closer, whispering, and Peach tried to adjust the microphone. At the same moment, the wind gusted, blasting static into her ear. She scowled, because the conversation became mostly inaudible.

She thought she heard the word ‘gun.’

And two words that sounded like ‘Picnic Island.’

The waitress Steffi appeared next to Macy with the check, and she murmured in his ear. He copped a discreet feel on her ass and gave her what looked like a hundred-dollar bill. Peach expected him to insert it in her cleavage. Macy and the Asian sauntered through the bar, passing so close to their table that she could smell his coconut body wash, and he gave Annalie an alluring, pretty-boy wink. He didn’t seem to notice Peach.

‘Did you get any of that?’ Annalie asked when they were gone.

Peach rewound the recording. The words weren’t any clearer the second, third, or fourth times. She told Annalie what she thought she’d heard, but she wasn’t sure she was right, and she didn’t know what any of it meant.

Annalie listened, too. ‘I can’t make out a thing.’

‘No,’ Peach said unhappily.

They waited five minutes, then paid their own bill and exited the bar into the narrow parking lot. The dead end street beside them led to a walkway across the grassy dunes down to the beach. Peach wasn’t parked in the restaurant lot, but in a more deserted lot on the other side of the street.

Annalie got into her Corolla. ‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, see you,’ Peach said. ‘And thanks.’

She watched Annalie head toward Gulf Boulevard. She crossed the street, which was furrowed with cracked asphalt. The wind felt as if it would lift her off her feet. She walked with her head down, feeling oddly depressed. Her Thunderbird was near a dumpster at the back of the lot. She came around the driver’s side and swung the door open.

Like fireworks, the base of her skull erupted in pain and light.