She changed out of her work clothes and into her best beach cover-up, a loud pink and lime green floral Lily Pulitzer number she’d picked up at her favorite thrift store back in Fort Lauderdale. She’d never cared for the pom-pom trim, but the top did have deep in-seam pockets, perfect to stash her cell phone, house keys and some folded-up cash money.

Her stomach rumbled as she passed through the kitchen and she realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since that slice of pizza earlier. She grabbed a protein bar from her grandmother’s cookie jar on the counter and slipped out the sliding-glass doors and onto the deck. The locking mechanism on the doors had rusted in the salt air, and when she was inside, she simply jammed a sawed-off broomstick into the track. Every time she walked out onto the deck she vowed that her next paycheck would go toward installing a new lock. Right after a laptop, but before the new roof.

She was halfway down the beach when she remembered the key card she’d lifted on her last visit to the hotel. She turned around, found the key on top of her dresser and doubled back, headed for the bright lights of the Gulf Vista. Walking on the uneven sand, her knee twinged, but she kept going until she reached the gate that separated the back of the resort from the public beach.

She looked around, swiped the card and tugged at the gate. It didn’t budge. She tried again, then gave up. Maybe the hotel locks had been re-programmed. She didn’t have time to wonder. Drue glanced up at the deep blue sky. There was a new moon tonight, mostly obscured by heavy cloud cover. The beach was deserted and cast in darkness, but music wafted from the resort’s pool area.

Now or never, she told herself. She placed her left foot on the bottom rail of the gate and swung her right leg up and over in the most awkward vault attempt ever, catching the hem of her top on a gate finial. As she tumbled forward onto the sand on the resort side of the fence, she felt a searing jolt of pain in her bad knee and heard the fabric of her top rip.

Drue sat up, moaning quietly, her leg extended straight out as she kneaded the knee with her fingertips. After a moment, the pain subsided. Maybe, she thought, maybe she hadn’t ruptured the joint again.