Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's hanging in with the story! I appreciate it mucho much:)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Joe!" Frank yelled across the street to catch his brother's attention. "Get over here!" Once he was sure Joe was on his way, he looked down at Nancy. Seeing blood seeping from fresh scrapes on her palms made him even more determined. And infuriated. "Hold on, Nancy."
He heard her call his name as he took off after the mugger, but didn't stop. He could barely see the shadowed figure, but it was a good distance ahead of him on the street, knocking into people as it tried to escape. Frank tripled his speed when he saw the mugger turn a corner.
Taking the same corner, Frank found himself in a narrow alley. There was no sign of the mugger, but there was also only one way to get out. He took it and found himself on another street. His head whipped around as he searched for his target. Spotting movement to his right, Frank picked up speed once more.
He lost count of the alleys he turned down, but finally, after nearly fifteen minutes, he reached a dead end. The mugger had disappeared with Nancy's purse. Frank stopped to catch his breath. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he cursed out loud.
Trusting his photographic memory to guide him, Frank made his way back to Nancy. It took a good while; he hadn't realized how far he'd run. By the time he returned, a small crowd that included two police officers, George, and Joe surrounded her. Frank wiped his brow and muscled his way to her side.
"I'm sorry, Nancy. I lost him near Coit Tower."
She smiled weakly, but her gratitude was real. "Thank you, Frank." Wincing, Nancy inspected the raw flesh of her palms.
"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning at the red wounds marring her delicate skin.
Joe nodded for her. "With some antiseptic and bandages, she'll be as good as new."
"Just missing my purse," Nancy sighed. She looked at the officers. "I can tell you everything that was in it."
"That'll help," one man replied, opening up a small pad to take notes.
"My wallet, my checkbook, a compact, the keys to my apartment, my cell phone…" She hesitated for a second. "My…um…sunglasses." A second passed. "Oh! And my clip." Frank watched her stamp her foot with a bit of her usual spunk. "It was a one of a kind piece I bought on Haight Street; it can't be replaced."
The officer nodded sympathetically. "You said you lost the mugger around Coit Tower?" Still watching Nancy, Frank bobbed his head. "We'll fan out from there and search, but I don't expect much to come up. The cell phone might turn up in a pawn shop or something, though."
"Doubtful," Joe muttered under his breath. It would be far too traceable.
"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, miss," the officer continued. "We have your information and we'll be in touch if we find anything."
"Thank you." Nancy looked at George. "I think I need a hot bath and something stronger than tea."
Her best friend put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. "Of course, Nan."
The crowd began to disperse and the officers took their leave to file their reports. Nancy turned to the brothers. "Our vacations together are nothing if not consistent."
"We'll take you back to your place," Frank offered. "And if there's anything you need…"
"You've done so much already," she replied. A moment passed. "I was worried about you. There's no telling what that person could have done to you if cornered."
Frank lifted his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but it's instinct at this point. A friend gets knocked over by a creep in a ski mask; I chase after him."
Nancy smiled briefly. "There was something else in my purse. Something I didn't tell the police about."
"What was it?" Joe asked.
"A CD of information. Everything I've gathered on the case so far. Whoever took my purse has that now, not to mention my real identity from my driver's license and credit cards." Her eyes watered, but she valiantly held the tears back. This wasn't the first time she'd been in this sort of situation, and with her lifestyle, it probably wouldn't be the last.
Frank ran his hand through his wind-blown, sweat-damp hair. "If you were a target of something more than just random street crime, they already know who you are, Nancy."
She nodded her agreement. It was scary how her brain and Frank's always seemed to operate on the same wavelength. "I suppose there's nothing more I can do tonight. And nothing I can do tomorrow except cancel my credit cards, have my lock changed, and try to go on with this investigation from square one again. Maybe I'll have better luck this time."
"You will," Frank declared. "Because we're going to help you." He glanced at Joe who nodded. "Unless you don't…"
"I do," Nancy quickly corrected him. "Thank you, Frank. Both of you." She looked at George. "I'm ready for that bath now."
Frank drove the girls to the hotel George had taken a room at to keep up the pretense of being Nancy's out-of-town visitor. "You're sure there's nothing else I…we can do for you, Nancy?" he asked, putting the car into park alongside the curb.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
"Tomorrow Patrick's competing the semi-finals. But we all could get together and go over the case sometime afterwards. Or we could just skip the race all together." Joe gave his brother a sharp look, which Frank ignored. "It's up to you. But whatever you decide, we'll get all of this straightened out, Nancy. We always do."
*Everything except you and I and whatever this is between us.*
"I know we will. Goodnight." George waved goodbye to the boys and slide out of the car with Nancy right behind her. The door shut and the boys watched as the girls headed into the hotel.
Joe crossed his arms. "'We'll skip the race all together'? Frank, what happened to holding back out of respect for Ned Nickerson?"
"She was attacked tonight." He wrenched the car into drive and took off towards their own hotel. "And while she might be tough enough to handle anything, she still needs help every now and then."
"But help of what kind? Friendly help or something more?"
"You know, sometimes I think you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice, Joe," Frank snapped.
"Well, it's just so harmonious." Joe shook his head after a moment. "Why can't you just admit that you have a thing for her? Have always had a thing for her, actually. Ned or no Ned."
"What good would it do?"
"Ah! There! You just admitted it!!"
"I admitted nothing that would stand up in a court of law."
Joe grinned mischievously. "Maybe you two just need a push in the right direction."
"If you're thinking about doing any pushing…" Frank turned a corner just fast enough to make Joe's shoulder slam against the inside of the car door, a slight punishment for an overzealous little brother. "Don't."
****
The semi-finals were held just up the coast from San Francisco in a large bay perfect for sailing. Conditions were ideal and when Frank and Joe arrived the next morning, they found their friend raring to go.
"My boat's as good as new," Patrick said as he led the brothers down to the water's edge. Spectators and other racers milled about the beach and piers; the scent of sea salt was heavy in the air. "Repaired overnight." He pointed to "Sarah's Wind," which now had a brand new sail and rudder, as well as a fresh coat of white paint. "See? I told you my sponsors would take care of everything."
Frank and Joe exchanged a look. "Who are these sponsors, anyways?" Joe asked. "They've obviously got some serious dough."
"They prefer to remain…anonymous." Patrick pushed his reflective sunglasses further up on his nose. "Listen, I appreciate you two offering to look into what happened yesterday, but really, it's not necessary. Everything's fixed now, and I'm going to take this race today and then the finals after that. I don't want to let some stupid prank get in the way of that."
Something in the way he spoke sent warning bells off in Frank's head. He'd met a lot of people who'd been robbed or had their property vandalized, and none of them had ever just wanted to forget about it. Still, if Patrick didn't want justice, he wasn't going to push to investigate. Yet.
"It's cool," Joe told the other man. "Listen, we're going to go find a good place to sit. Good luck, man." They shook hands with their friend and watched him saunter back down to the pier to get his boat ready to launch.
"Do you think it's a little too convenient that yesterday, just at the exact second Patrick needed a boat, there was one right there, waiting for him to use?"
Joe glanced at his brother as they walked towards the makeshift bleachers that had been set up for the spectators. "A little, I guess. But his sponsors could just be very thorough. They've invested some money in Patrick, and if he hadn't raced yesterday, it would have gone down the tubes."
"He's just a little too…too something. Complacent. I remember in fourth grade when we helped him with that lunch money thing, he was furious that someone would steal from him. He bugged us every day until we solved it." Frank folded his arms over his broad chest. "And now, someone's torn apart his boat, his pride and joy…but he doesn't want to find out who it was? I don't buy it."
"Frank, there's really nothing we can do about it without his cooperation."
The older brother shrugged. "Maybe." As they walked, they passed by a newspaper stand carrying the day's issue of the San Francisco Chronicle. Frank fished some money out of his jeans pocket and grabbed a copy. The race was going to be long, and while he enjoyed sports, he liked to keep up with world events more.
Just before the race started, an announcement came over the loudspeakers. "Careful out there, sailors. We've had a few reported shark sightings in the area. Just a heads up. Good luck to everyone competing."
"Are they trying to freak them out or something, thinking Jaws might be swimming right underneath their flimsy boats?" Joe asked out loud.
Frank lifted his shoulders and opened the first section of his thick newspaper. Every now and then, he'd glance up between articles and take in the race. The bay had been turned into a race course with marks to hit; the first man to make it around five times took number one going into the finals. Patrick was leading, completing his second lap around the marked course while others were just finishing their first. Frank was proud of his friend, but lingering doubts still plagued him.
An hour into the race, Frank turned a page and came upon an article that instantly peaked his interest. "Hey, Joe." He elbowed his brother. "Look at this."
"What is it?"
"It's an article about Nancy's restaurant. Well, their missing business manager anyways." Frank pointed to the black and white picture of a distinguished-looking man. "'Jonathan Brumby was reported missing two weeks ago by his partner, Victoria Lott,'" he read out loud. "Together, they owned and operated Curacao, a fusion Caribbean restaurant just north of Market Street. Police have yet to find any concrete clues as to his whereabouts, and foul play is still suspected due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his sudden disappearance.'"
"I wonder if Nancy's done a thorough background check on this guy," Joe mused.
"I assume she has."
"She didn't say much about him when she outlined everything for us. I mean, I'm instantly curious about something. If the kidnappers are also the saboteurs, why take the business manager and not the front woman?"
Frank frowned at the missing man's picture. "There could be a hundred reasons. I'm sure Nancy found out everything she could on this guy. It's probably all on that CD that was stolen."
Joe shook his blonde head. "She's got herself into quite a doozy, here. And now with you getting her all distracted…"
"Distracted? I'm not distracting her." Frank folded up the paper. "I'm sure she just misses Ned. We do look somewhat alike, you know. I probably remind her of him or something."
"Maybe." Joe returned his attention to the race. "Or maybe she's not thinking about Ned at all when she's with you."
Frank's forehead pulled into a scowl. "Hey. Mini-Freud. Lay off the analysis. I don't need it."
"Fine, fine. Fumble around on your own. Maybe someday you'll both trip at the same time, bump into each other and finally get it right."
Drawing in a deep, calming breath, Frank stood up. "I'm taking a walk," he announced.
"Hey, Frank!" Joe shot to his feet, a repentant look on his face. "I know I can be a pain in your ass, but you know that I just want you to be happy, right?"
"Yeah." He gave his younger brother a light, forgiving shove. "I'm not mad. I just need to clear my head." Starting down the bleachers, he said over his shoulder, "Be back soon."
Leaving the cheers of the crowd behind, Frank walked to the rocks that bordered the edge of the short, sandy beach. Strong, salty breezes hit him squarely, turning his hair into a chocolate mess. The roar of the ocean drowned out the rest of the world; it was only when he looked out on the water and saw the boats in the distance, still racing, that he felt pulled back into reality.
He was alone on this portion of the beach, half hidden by a cozy rock cove. The foamy remnants of waves lapped close to his feet; Frank moved back a few inches to ensure that his shoes stayed dry. Realizing his pragmatism, he sighed. Common sense always abounded. Common sense kept him in check.
Common sense kept him from being honest about a certain red-haired detective.
He stopped short with the sudden realization that he missed her. It had only been a matter of hours since they'd left the girls at George's hotel, but already he missed seeing Nancy's face, hearing her voice, being by her side. But that was wrong! Wasn't it? She belonged to someone else.
Frank laughed. "I know," he corrected himself. "Nancy belongs to no one but herself. And I wouldn't want it any other way."
But still, despite this admission, part of him really, truly wanted to be able to call Nancy "his," as long as he could also call himself "hers."
The walk was supposed to clear his head, but now he found himself more confused than ever. He had no doubts about what he wanted, but unless certain circumstances changed, it looked as though he'd be keeping his heart to himself for a long time to come.
Frank was about to turn around and start back down the beach when something caught his eye a dozen yards away. At the very edge of the water there was a large, unidentifiable shape; it was gently tugged back and forth with the never-ending ebb of the waves. Frowning, he started towards it.
The smell of decaying flesh hit him a long time before he figured out what it was he was looking at. Coughing, Frank lifted the collar of his shirt up over his nose as he got even closer. It was then that he realized he was looking at a dead body.
Bloated from the salt water and gnawed at by what looked to be every creature in the sea, the body was barely identifiable. Perhaps it was only because he'd just seen the man's picture that Frank recognized the remains.
"Oh god…" He took a few steps backwards, away from his gruesome discovery, his dark eyes wide in horror. "It's Jonathan Brumby!"
****
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's hanging in with the story! I appreciate it mucho much:)
****
Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
****
"Joe!" Frank yelled across the street to catch his brother's attention. "Get over here!" Once he was sure Joe was on his way, he looked down at Nancy. Seeing blood seeping from fresh scrapes on her palms made him even more determined. And infuriated. "Hold on, Nancy."
He heard her call his name as he took off after the mugger, but didn't stop. He could barely see the shadowed figure, but it was a good distance ahead of him on the street, knocking into people as it tried to escape. Frank tripled his speed when he saw the mugger turn a corner.
Taking the same corner, Frank found himself in a narrow alley. There was no sign of the mugger, but there was also only one way to get out. He took it and found himself on another street. His head whipped around as he searched for his target. Spotting movement to his right, Frank picked up speed once more.
He lost count of the alleys he turned down, but finally, after nearly fifteen minutes, he reached a dead end. The mugger had disappeared with Nancy's purse. Frank stopped to catch his breath. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he cursed out loud.
Trusting his photographic memory to guide him, Frank made his way back to Nancy. It took a good while; he hadn't realized how far he'd run. By the time he returned, a small crowd that included two police officers, George, and Joe surrounded her. Frank wiped his brow and muscled his way to her side.
"I'm sorry, Nancy. I lost him near Coit Tower."
She smiled weakly, but her gratitude was real. "Thank you, Frank." Wincing, Nancy inspected the raw flesh of her palms.
"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning at the red wounds marring her delicate skin.
Joe nodded for her. "With some antiseptic and bandages, she'll be as good as new."
"Just missing my purse," Nancy sighed. She looked at the officers. "I can tell you everything that was in it."
"That'll help," one man replied, opening up a small pad to take notes.
"My wallet, my checkbook, a compact, the keys to my apartment, my cell phone…" She hesitated for a second. "My…um…sunglasses." A second passed. "Oh! And my clip." Frank watched her stamp her foot with a bit of her usual spunk. "It was a one of a kind piece I bought on Haight Street; it can't be replaced."
The officer nodded sympathetically. "You said you lost the mugger around Coit Tower?" Still watching Nancy, Frank bobbed his head. "We'll fan out from there and search, but I don't expect much to come up. The cell phone might turn up in a pawn shop or something, though."
"Doubtful," Joe muttered under his breath. It would be far too traceable.
"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, miss," the officer continued. "We have your information and we'll be in touch if we find anything."
"Thank you." Nancy looked at George. "I think I need a hot bath and something stronger than tea."
Her best friend put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. "Of course, Nan."
The crowd began to disperse and the officers took their leave to file their reports. Nancy turned to the brothers. "Our vacations together are nothing if not consistent."
"We'll take you back to your place," Frank offered. "And if there's anything you need…"
"You've done so much already," she replied. A moment passed. "I was worried about you. There's no telling what that person could have done to you if cornered."
Frank lifted his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but it's instinct at this point. A friend gets knocked over by a creep in a ski mask; I chase after him."
Nancy smiled briefly. "There was something else in my purse. Something I didn't tell the police about."
"What was it?" Joe asked.
"A CD of information. Everything I've gathered on the case so far. Whoever took my purse has that now, not to mention my real identity from my driver's license and credit cards." Her eyes watered, but she valiantly held the tears back. This wasn't the first time she'd been in this sort of situation, and with her lifestyle, it probably wouldn't be the last.
Frank ran his hand through his wind-blown, sweat-damp hair. "If you were a target of something more than just random street crime, they already know who you are, Nancy."
She nodded her agreement. It was scary how her brain and Frank's always seemed to operate on the same wavelength. "I suppose there's nothing more I can do tonight. And nothing I can do tomorrow except cancel my credit cards, have my lock changed, and try to go on with this investigation from square one again. Maybe I'll have better luck this time."
"You will," Frank declared. "Because we're going to help you." He glanced at Joe who nodded. "Unless you don't…"
"I do," Nancy quickly corrected him. "Thank you, Frank. Both of you." She looked at George. "I'm ready for that bath now."
Frank drove the girls to the hotel George had taken a room at to keep up the pretense of being Nancy's out-of-town visitor. "You're sure there's nothing else I…we can do for you, Nancy?" he asked, putting the car into park alongside the curb.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
"Tomorrow Patrick's competing the semi-finals. But we all could get together and go over the case sometime afterwards. Or we could just skip the race all together." Joe gave his brother a sharp look, which Frank ignored. "It's up to you. But whatever you decide, we'll get all of this straightened out, Nancy. We always do."
*Everything except you and I and whatever this is between us.*
"I know we will. Goodnight." George waved goodbye to the boys and slide out of the car with Nancy right behind her. The door shut and the boys watched as the girls headed into the hotel.
Joe crossed his arms. "'We'll skip the race all together'? Frank, what happened to holding back out of respect for Ned Nickerson?"
"She was attacked tonight." He wrenched the car into drive and took off towards their own hotel. "And while she might be tough enough to handle anything, she still needs help every now and then."
"But help of what kind? Friendly help or something more?"
"You know, sometimes I think you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice, Joe," Frank snapped.
"Well, it's just so harmonious." Joe shook his head after a moment. "Why can't you just admit that you have a thing for her? Have always had a thing for her, actually. Ned or no Ned."
"What good would it do?"
"Ah! There! You just admitted it!!"
"I admitted nothing that would stand up in a court of law."
Joe grinned mischievously. "Maybe you two just need a push in the right direction."
"If you're thinking about doing any pushing…" Frank turned a corner just fast enough to make Joe's shoulder slam against the inside of the car door, a slight punishment for an overzealous little brother. "Don't."
****
The semi-finals were held just up the coast from San Francisco in a large bay perfect for sailing. Conditions were ideal and when Frank and Joe arrived the next morning, they found their friend raring to go.
"My boat's as good as new," Patrick said as he led the brothers down to the water's edge. Spectators and other racers milled about the beach and piers; the scent of sea salt was heavy in the air. "Repaired overnight." He pointed to "Sarah's Wind," which now had a brand new sail and rudder, as well as a fresh coat of white paint. "See? I told you my sponsors would take care of everything."
Frank and Joe exchanged a look. "Who are these sponsors, anyways?" Joe asked. "They've obviously got some serious dough."
"They prefer to remain…anonymous." Patrick pushed his reflective sunglasses further up on his nose. "Listen, I appreciate you two offering to look into what happened yesterday, but really, it's not necessary. Everything's fixed now, and I'm going to take this race today and then the finals after that. I don't want to let some stupid prank get in the way of that."
Something in the way he spoke sent warning bells off in Frank's head. He'd met a lot of people who'd been robbed or had their property vandalized, and none of them had ever just wanted to forget about it. Still, if Patrick didn't want justice, he wasn't going to push to investigate. Yet.
"It's cool," Joe told the other man. "Listen, we're going to go find a good place to sit. Good luck, man." They shook hands with their friend and watched him saunter back down to the pier to get his boat ready to launch.
"Do you think it's a little too convenient that yesterday, just at the exact second Patrick needed a boat, there was one right there, waiting for him to use?"
Joe glanced at his brother as they walked towards the makeshift bleachers that had been set up for the spectators. "A little, I guess. But his sponsors could just be very thorough. They've invested some money in Patrick, and if he hadn't raced yesterday, it would have gone down the tubes."
"He's just a little too…too something. Complacent. I remember in fourth grade when we helped him with that lunch money thing, he was furious that someone would steal from him. He bugged us every day until we solved it." Frank folded his arms over his broad chest. "And now, someone's torn apart his boat, his pride and joy…but he doesn't want to find out who it was? I don't buy it."
"Frank, there's really nothing we can do about it without his cooperation."
The older brother shrugged. "Maybe." As they walked, they passed by a newspaper stand carrying the day's issue of the San Francisco Chronicle. Frank fished some money out of his jeans pocket and grabbed a copy. The race was going to be long, and while he enjoyed sports, he liked to keep up with world events more.
Just before the race started, an announcement came over the loudspeakers. "Careful out there, sailors. We've had a few reported shark sightings in the area. Just a heads up. Good luck to everyone competing."
"Are they trying to freak them out or something, thinking Jaws might be swimming right underneath their flimsy boats?" Joe asked out loud.
Frank lifted his shoulders and opened the first section of his thick newspaper. Every now and then, he'd glance up between articles and take in the race. The bay had been turned into a race course with marks to hit; the first man to make it around five times took number one going into the finals. Patrick was leading, completing his second lap around the marked course while others were just finishing their first. Frank was proud of his friend, but lingering doubts still plagued him.
An hour into the race, Frank turned a page and came upon an article that instantly peaked his interest. "Hey, Joe." He elbowed his brother. "Look at this."
"What is it?"
"It's an article about Nancy's restaurant. Well, their missing business manager anyways." Frank pointed to the black and white picture of a distinguished-looking man. "'Jonathan Brumby was reported missing two weeks ago by his partner, Victoria Lott,'" he read out loud. "Together, they owned and operated Curacao, a fusion Caribbean restaurant just north of Market Street. Police have yet to find any concrete clues as to his whereabouts, and foul play is still suspected due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his sudden disappearance.'"
"I wonder if Nancy's done a thorough background check on this guy," Joe mused.
"I assume she has."
"She didn't say much about him when she outlined everything for us. I mean, I'm instantly curious about something. If the kidnappers are also the saboteurs, why take the business manager and not the front woman?"
Frank frowned at the missing man's picture. "There could be a hundred reasons. I'm sure Nancy found out everything she could on this guy. It's probably all on that CD that was stolen."
Joe shook his blonde head. "She's got herself into quite a doozy, here. And now with you getting her all distracted…"
"Distracted? I'm not distracting her." Frank folded up the paper. "I'm sure she just misses Ned. We do look somewhat alike, you know. I probably remind her of him or something."
"Maybe." Joe returned his attention to the race. "Or maybe she's not thinking about Ned at all when she's with you."
Frank's forehead pulled into a scowl. "Hey. Mini-Freud. Lay off the analysis. I don't need it."
"Fine, fine. Fumble around on your own. Maybe someday you'll both trip at the same time, bump into each other and finally get it right."
Drawing in a deep, calming breath, Frank stood up. "I'm taking a walk," he announced.
"Hey, Frank!" Joe shot to his feet, a repentant look on his face. "I know I can be a pain in your ass, but you know that I just want you to be happy, right?"
"Yeah." He gave his younger brother a light, forgiving shove. "I'm not mad. I just need to clear my head." Starting down the bleachers, he said over his shoulder, "Be back soon."
Leaving the cheers of the crowd behind, Frank walked to the rocks that bordered the edge of the short, sandy beach. Strong, salty breezes hit him squarely, turning his hair into a chocolate mess. The roar of the ocean drowned out the rest of the world; it was only when he looked out on the water and saw the boats in the distance, still racing, that he felt pulled back into reality.
He was alone on this portion of the beach, half hidden by a cozy rock cove. The foamy remnants of waves lapped close to his feet; Frank moved back a few inches to ensure that his shoes stayed dry. Realizing his pragmatism, he sighed. Common sense always abounded. Common sense kept him in check.
Common sense kept him from being honest about a certain red-haired detective.
He stopped short with the sudden realization that he missed her. It had only been a matter of hours since they'd left the girls at George's hotel, but already he missed seeing Nancy's face, hearing her voice, being by her side. But that was wrong! Wasn't it? She belonged to someone else.
Frank laughed. "I know," he corrected himself. "Nancy belongs to no one but herself. And I wouldn't want it any other way."
But still, despite this admission, part of him really, truly wanted to be able to call Nancy "his," as long as he could also call himself "hers."
The walk was supposed to clear his head, but now he found himself more confused than ever. He had no doubts about what he wanted, but unless certain circumstances changed, it looked as though he'd be keeping his heart to himself for a long time to come.
Frank was about to turn around and start back down the beach when something caught his eye a dozen yards away. At the very edge of the water there was a large, unidentifiable shape; it was gently tugged back and forth with the never-ending ebb of the waves. Frowning, he started towards it.
The smell of decaying flesh hit him a long time before he figured out what it was he was looking at. Coughing, Frank lifted the collar of his shirt up over his nose as he got even closer. It was then that he realized he was looking at a dead body.
Bloated from the salt water and gnawed at by what looked to be every creature in the sea, the body was barely identifiable. Perhaps it was only because he'd just seen the man's picture that Frank recognized the remains.
"Oh god…" He took a few steps backwards, away from his gruesome discovery, his dark eyes wide in horror. "It's Jonathan Brumby!"
****
To Be Continued