“We all got to watch out for each other, that’s what she’s always saying. What were you doing down there, anyway?”

“Nothing. Just thinking, I guess. Did that person drown? The one out at Devil’s Punchbowl?”

“For sure,” he says almost cheerfully. “Tourists. Think they know things they don’t.”

It’s not just his way of talking that’s unusual, I realize, but everything he’s saying. He’s like a character from a storybook, a wizard trafficking in metaphors, or a hermit holding out three magic beans—or, in this case, a rope. The whole encounter is odd, but unless I’m missing something glaring, he doesn’t seem dangerous to me. In fact, he could be useful. He’s not a tourist, but something more than a local, even. He sleeps in the park, or so I assume from the tent I saw the other day, where he can watch everyone the way he’s just watched me—like a TV show he can turn on and off by rolling over.

“Has anyone from the sheriff’s office come and interviewed you and your friends about the missing girl, Cameron Curtis?” I ask.

“Why? Because we’re the closest thing this town has to a criminal element?” He might be winking a little as he says it. Even under the streetlamps, the light isn’t good. Either he’s amused or I’ve offended him.

“You’re outside most of the time.” I try to elaborate. “You know everyone who lives here by sight. I’m thinking you’d catch it if something was off. Or someone.”

He nods, his features muddy. “Lots of kids come by the park on their way to the beach, smoking sometimes. Every once in a while one of them asks us to buy beer or a fifth of Four Roses. But not that girl. I’m not sure I ever saw her come through. If I did, she didn’t stand out.”

“Do you think this is a safe town? You guys camp out, right?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes outside feels safer than inside. You know exactly what you’re up against.”

It’s the sort of thing Hap might have said. “How long have you lived here?”

“Couple years. My girl always wanted to live by the ocean. I said sure, let’s try it. We were in Denver before. The sun shines every damned day there, right through the snow sometimes. But Lenore said the altitude turned her upside down.”

“Lenore? That the woman I met the other day?”

He nods. “She doesn’t like people all that much. I’m surprised she talked to you.”

“My family had a pet raven named Lenore once.”

“What, in the house?” He shakes his head, frowning. “You can’t tame an animal like that. Bad luck.”