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Back Sunset Beach Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. Epilogue
  71. Also by Mary Kay Andrews
  72. About the Author
  73. Newsletter Sign-up

He nodded. “What happened to your friend?”

“She went home. I decided to walk back to the office. My car’s there.”

“Maybe I could give you a ride.” He gestured toward his cruiser, which was parked at the curb in a no-parking zone.

“Thanks anyway, but I need to walk off that cheeseburger I just ate.”

“You look just fine to me.” He ran the radio antennae slowly down her cheek. “You look so good, you oughtta be against the law.” He moved even closer now. “And I’m the law.”

She felt her face, neck and chest flush. She didn’t even know his name, for Pete’s sake.

“Okay, well, it’s good to see you again.”

“Jimmy.”

“Huh?”

“Jimmy Zilowicz. Everybody calls me Jimmy Zee.”

“Right. See you around, Jimmy Zee.”

He was still studying her. “How are things at home?”

“Like I said before, everything’s fine. Allen really felt terrible, you know, about what happened. He hasn’t had a drink since. Not even a beer.”

“If he stopped drinking, does that mean he beats you when he’s sober too?”

She pulled away from him. “It’s not what you think. Anyway, why are you following me? I haven’t done anything wrong.” She turned to go, but he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Something’s been bothering me ever since that night at the Dreamland. You know what that place is, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t,” she said coldly.

“It’s a hot sheet joint. A no-tell motel. I bet we get twenty, thirty calls a year to that place. Suspicion of prostitution, drunk and disorderly, like that. So what’s a nice young married couple doing shacked up at a place like the Dreamland?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re pissed at me? He’s the one you should be pissed at. Hang on here a minute. Don’t make me chase you down, okay?”

Colleen crossed her arms and waited. He reached in the open window of his cruiser and brought out a pad of paper and a pen.

“You’re giving me a ticket? For what? This is unbelievable.”

He scrawled something on the ticket, tore it off and handed it to her. “Not a ticket. My name and phone number. If he hurts you again? Call me. I guarantee, it’ll be the last time the son of a bitch does that.”

26

The wind awakened her Sunday morning, howling, whipping palm fronds against the bedroom window screens. Drue jumped from the bed, ran to the living room and threw open the French doors leading to the deck.

She stood on the deck, dressed only in an oversize T-shirt. She tilted her face skyward, letting the wind whip her hair and the rain lash her face, feeling like a wild sea siren.