“But it’s getting dark,” Emmi argued. “She won’t be easy to find.”

John said, “Let’s break into pairs and start searching for her. We’ll meet back here in half an hour. The sun should be setting by then.” Looking up he added, “And the rain should be coming in soon after. If we don’t find her by then, I say we bring in the police.”

Pairing off and arming themselves with flashlights, they all took off. Palmer and Julia headed toward Palm Boulevard. Cara and David took Hope with them to fetch the golf cart and search Ocean Boulevard. The young couples headed for the beach.

“Gordon,” said John. “Why don’t you and Pandora head toward Front Beach. You know that area well.”

Gordon opened his mouth to protest but then tightened his lips and nodded.

“Okay,” Linnea said. “John, that leaves you and me. We’ll head toward Breach Inlet.” To Gordon she said, “See you back at the house in thirty.”

The wind was picking up, scattering sand and sending the final stragglers on the beach packing up their gear and heading to home or to their cars. The crowd had thinned but there were long lines of cars jockeying for space in the exit lanes off the island.

“I hope we find her before that storm hits,” Linnea said, picking up the pace.

“We’ll find her,” John reassured her. “How many old women are out here in a brewing storm for a stroll?”

A gust of wind laced with biting drops of rain slapped her face. She caught her breath at the sudden shift in weather. Overhead all trace of the sky had been replaced by clouds tinged an eerie green. The ocean was tumultuous, whipping up steely-colored waves that crashed against the shoreline.

Suddenly everything was aquiver. The wind picked up to swirl around Linnea in a strange mixture of warm and cool, humid and icy. The young stalks of sea oats rattled like castanets. It felt like a tornado.

“It’s really blowing up a storm and its coming on fast,” John said, and turned her way to be heard over the wind. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s keep going. Flo!” she called out at the top of her lungs. Her voice was lost in the roar of the surf.

They kept walking at a fast clip toward Breach Inlet, where even on good days the treacherous water swirled with deadly undercurrents. The quickly changing tides often fooled tourists into thinking it was safe to wander far out on the sand at low tide, not aware how fast the tides could roll back in. Every year there were rescues in Breach Inlet, not all of them successful. Tonight it swirled like a Mixmaster. Linnea silently prayed, Please, God, don’t let her wander into the water.

“John, look,” she said. She pointed to what looked like a dark gray wall in the air, straight ahead. “What is that? Rain?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding as amazed as she was. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”