Water to Burn Read Online Free

reinforced dunes and a seawall, some ten to twelve feet above street level. We headed up the path that leads through moribund freeway daisies to a crosswalk and a stoplight. At the top we saw a pair of squad cars and an ambulance blocking one lane of the highway. Ari pulled his Interpol ID out of his shirt pocket. A uniformed officer, a skinny white guy, jogged across the crosswalk with one hand raised in the universal “stop” sign. When Ari showed him the ID, he lowered his arm.
    I glanced back at the Great Highway. Despite the “great” in its name, nobody drives on this roadway much because it tends to be blocked by blowing sand from the beach. That afternoon a few cars came speeding along, only to slow down as they approached the police presence. Most slowed further to rubberneck, then sped up once they passed. A white luxury sedan approached at a steady speed and zipped on by in the outer lane. I caught a glimpse of a blond man at the wheel before it sped out of sight. I turned my attention back to the police.
    “What happened here?” Ari said.
    “A drowning,” the officer said. “Well, we’re pretty sure the poor kid drowned. The Coast Guard’s sending a rescue unit, but the water’s pretty damn cold this time of year, and the girl’s only twelve. Not a strong swimmer, they tell us.”
    He jerked his head in the direction of the “them,” a huddle of seven people, standing on the cement half circle at the top of the seawall. I got my cross-agency ID out of my shoulder bag and held it out. “Mind if I have a word with them?” I said.
    He glanced at the ID, whistled under his breath, and shrugged again. “No problem, sure. The mother’s real broken up, though.”
    “Yeah, I bet. I’ll talk to someone else.”
    The officer escorted us across the road to the concrete esplanade. A sergeant, a formidable-looking African-American guy of about forty, met us. We showed our IDs again.
    On the half circle of view area, near the steps that led down to the actual sand and water, two women had their arms around a third, who stood hunched over, sobbing, with her hands covering her face. Two men stood protectively on either side of a teenage boy, who was shivering despite the heavy blanket wrapped around him. His red hair hung in wet tendrils around his face. Everyone wore heavy jeans or slacks and sensible thick jackets.
    “It doesn’t look like anyone planned on going into the water for a swim,” I said.
    “They didn’t,” the sergeant said. “A rogue wave.”
    “What?” Ari said. “It’s high tide, but the sea looks calm enough.”
    “Yeah. It’s strange, all around. Here, I’ll let you talk to the preacher.”
    A youngish white man, wearing jeans and a parka, open at the throat to display a black shirt with a churchman’s white collar, hurried over when the sergeant beckoned to him. He introduced himself as the Reverend Tom Wilson of a local Baptist church. He had a long narrow face and pale blue eyes that at the moment looked half full of tears.
    “Can you stand to tell me what happened?” I said.
    “The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away,” Wilson said, but his voice shook. “Blessed be the name of the Lord! It’s a terrible thing. I can’t believe it happened, and here I saw it myself.”
    I made a sympathetic noise.
    “Our church also runs a Christian school,” Wilson went on. “We brought a group of kids out here for a nature walk.”
    “Those are the children waiting in the bus?” I said.
    “Yes. The police agreed that they didn’t need to stand out in the cold. Anyway, we kept everyone on the sand, no wading allowed, even.” He swallowed heavily. “I’ve lived in the Bay Area all my life. I know what the riptides and such are like.”
    “Very dangerous, yeah,” I said. “Did the missing girl run into the water?”
    “No, not at all. Brittany and Cody there—” He nodded in the direction of the shivering boy, “—had gotten a few yards ahead of the rest of us, but