Run Away Read Online Free Page A

one of the best surfing spots on the island.
    Stanton suited up. Rather than running home to grab his board, he decided to rent one, maybe something other his standard shortboard. The waves were so-so, and he thought a hybrid board would be better suited to catch a decent wave.
    The wetsuit , still damp from the day before, chilled his skin. He zipped it up and lay on the sand, keeping his eyes closed and absorbing the sunlight’s dull-red glow. The sun rejuvenated him, strengthened him. Whenever he felt like collapsing from exhaustion, whether mental or physical, the sunlight and the ocean kept him going. Wherever he was or whatever he was doing, he made time for the ocean.
    As he paddled out, he felt the coolness of the sea. The water tasted salty as it splashed up into his face. He let his fingers dangle a long time before each stroke, absorbing the calmness of the moment.
    When he was far e nough out, he turned back to the shore and lightly rode the waves before unleashing a fury of paddling. Right at the cusp of letting the momentum tip him over, he flipped up with both feet then felt the stretch in his legs as he crouched. He cut to the left then spun the board into a vertical position. The wave was forgiving, guiding him through his movements. That was the key to surfing that took some people decades to learn: the surfer isn’t in charge. The ocean is. The surfer has to give in and work in harmony or be swallowed up like a speck of dust.
    Stanton surfed a solid hour before taking a break to get a drink. Tucked underneath his towel on the beach, his cell phone vibrated as he sat in the sand and sipped from a water bottle.
    He had a single text message from dispatch letting him know he’d caught a new homicide. As he rose to shower and dress, he remembered his new partner. Somehow, the burden of catching a new case seemed lighter. Someone else would be there, taking in the horror of the scene and splitting the work. He thought that maybe Kai understood him better than he understood himself.

5
     
     
     
     
    The bar was about the shadiest place Richard Miller had ever been to. He stepped through the doorway and was immediately overwhelmed by the stench of marijuana, cigarettes, vomit, spilt alcohol, and Lord knew what else. He thought right then and there about turning around and heading home. His marriage wasn’t really so bad after all, was it? He could live with the infidelity… but the cruelty was something else. She wasn’t subtle about anything. He still loved her, but she loathed him.
    Tate Reynolds, Hiapo, and a new fella he hadn’t met before were sitting at a booth away from the other customers. Richard smiled and waved to them. None of them waved back.
    He strolled over, stopping a waitress to ask for a beer. He never drank beer, but he wanted to seem like one of the boys. Just an average Joe out for his nightcap.
    “Hi , guys,” he said.
    Tate sucked on a cigarette, his eyes narrow and rimmed with red as he stared up at Richard. The group was silent, so Richard helped himself to a seat. Tate passed the cigarette over to Hiapo, who took some puffs then gave it to the third man.
    “So,” Tate said, blowing out a puff of smoke into Richard’s face, “what do you got?”
    “Yoga,” Richard said.
    “Yoga?”
    “Yes, yoga. Three evenings a week, she goes to a yoga class. It’s in this, like, strip mall, I guess you’d call it. But not really a strip mall. It’s a little trendy place. There’s a Middle Eastern restaurant next to it. Lebanese. Their kabob is to die for. You really should try it if you’re ever out there. Um, where was I? Oh, and across the street is a gay shop.”
    “What the fuck is a gay shop?”
    “They have , like, gay sex toys and things. Right next to that is a coffee shop. Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all that is because the parking is terrible. All those stores are too close to each other. So you have to go to this back parking lot to access any of them. By