Chasing Forever Down (Drenaline Surf Series) (15 page)

 
I cross the hardwood floor to the bay window and pull the curtains to the side. Droplets chase each other along the glass. The whitecaps of the waves wash ashore just briefly before being hauled back out to sea. I try to imagine Colby out there, black and silver surfboard, wind flowing through his hair and waves crashing around him. He’s in his element, the sun burning his skin and the water washing away the worries of the world. It must be a magical moment to be willing to “die” for.

 
I reach for my bag on the floor to finish obsessively reading the carefully worded information about him on the tourist brochures. But my fingers find their way around a little doll dressed in a white blood-spattered straightjacket. The Enchanters. I pull the five dolls out along with their booklet.
Zombie Asylum, the first Enchanter rock band
. My eyes scan over Emily’s biography and how she hand sews each doll herself. And I remember her sales pitch about the unattainable heartthrob and his four band members.

Pickett –
 dressed in his straightjacket after escaping from an insane asylum. Locked up after a massacre that resulted from the accidental death of his favorite musician. As much as Linzi loves TheKeeganLawrence, I can’t imagine her going on a murder spree for him. Pickett’s lime green eyes stare up at me, like he’s alive and watching the thoughts scroll through my mind.

Bones –
 a former funeral director who supplied a vampire coven with blood. After being stalked out by vampire slayers, he hid in the woods and met up with an asylum escapee. He traded his embalming tools for a set of drumsticks and a wild wardrobe and became the rock band’s drummer. His pink undershirt is as bold as Alston’s swim trunks. If Alston was an Enchanter, he’d be Bones.

The thought of any of these guys in doll form makes me laugh. The next one is Caspian, a former pirate who went down with his ship,
The Sapphire Bandit. This would be Vin with his thieving ways. He may be somewhat cold, but he’d definitely be the type of captain who’d go down with his ship. There’s a sense of loyalty that follows him, even if I hate admitting that. He’d be laid to rest with his sapphires on the ocean bottom, with the sharks, and I think he’d be okay with that.

Declan
– one of the friendliest Enchanters created, according to Emily’s handwriting. He was a firefighter in a former life, always helping others, always caring. I can almost see Reed’s smile in Declan’s dark face and his lime green eyes.

And then Nicholas –
 the bassist heartthrob with the inability to love. The heart pinned onto his shirt is detachable, so unrequited and aching. I imagine Emily’s Enchanter booth after dark when the little dolls come to life and Zombie Asylum would take the stage. All of the little Enchanter girls would go crazy screaming for Nicholas.

The five dolls look up at me from their line across
the bay window. This time, I smile at massacre-man Pickett. He’s not so scary now. He’s full of loyalty and love and a little bit of Gonzalez. He’d be my A.J. if I were a doll on Emily’s shelf.

I
carry them to the bed, move the candle from the shelf on the wall, and line them up accordingly – Nicholas farthest from my reach, symbolic of the isolated surfer. I place Caspian the pirate next to him, the biggest obstacle I’ve yet to overcome to reach the surfer. Then Bones, because Alston is still unreadable, followed by Declan, because Reed is still cautious with what he says. Pickett remains closest to me. For me, he’s the easiest to get past, and honestly, he’s the one I’d most want on my side. Enchanted Emily was right – they
were
made for me. I fall back onto the bed and watch Solomon twirl until my eyes are too tired to focus.

My eyes should be heavy, like sunken treasure being held to the ocean floor. But I’m wide awake and ingesting the vanilla frappe Reed picked up at the bakery this morning for me, against Vin’s orders to stay indoors. Water slams against the skylight above the stairs. It’s last night all over again. But this time we can see the damage.

Sand coats the morning air, swirling through the rain in a blurry haze and landing wherever the wind sees fit. Waves hover over the ocean and crash against the shore like the ocean gods are throwing punches. The west coast is angry this morning, and it
’ll take out anyone who dares to interrupt its tantrum. The only ones stupid enough to try interrupting it would be surfers.

Vin slams his cell phone against the couch.
“No answer,” he says. “I’m not waiting any longer.”

He stands up and walks toward the sliding door leading out to the swimming pool. He leans against it, watching the rain meet the glass and slide away. There
’s no way he can see what’s happening among the waves from here.

“
We can’t go out there,” Reed says. He joins Vin by the door, most likely assessing the damage before the inevitable journey outside.

I pull my legs up into the chair with me and watch them watch the weather outside. Colby wouldn
’t be dumb enough to go out in this kind of storm. At least I hope he wouldn’t be. But if he has that desire to conquer the waves, to be the best, to surf the ultimate surf...he just might.

A.J. bounds down the stairs like he
’s hung over. His hair sticks out at odd angles, but he looks like that most days anyway. “Any word?” he asks while fighting a yawn.

Reed looks back and shakes his head, but Vin doesn
’t move. He’s still watching the wind and rain.

“
We’re going to go look for him,” Vin says to the patio door more than to A.J.

A.J. leans over the armrest of m
y chair and grabs my frappe, takes a sip, and hands it back. “When do we head out? I’ll wake Alston,” A.J. volunteers before either guy can answer his first question.

A.J. is up the stairs much more quickly than he came down. Reed
runs through the kitchen and out to the garage to crank up his Jeep while Vin attempts another unanswered phone call. He paces back and forth alongside the couch, willing Colby to answer and cursing his name when he doesn’t. I jump up from the chair and awkwardly try to keep step with Vin…but at a short distance.

My heart thumps, and I feel it in my throat.
Linzi’s eyes meet mine for half a second as she rushes down the stairs with A.J. and Alston. She reminds me of a soap opera star. Her hair falls lightly over her shoulders, and she doesn’t have black smears of mascara under her eyelashes. My hair, however, smells salty from the beach, and there’s no way I can tame the curls. I just hope the remnants of yesterday’s makeup remain where they are because there’s no time to touch up. This would be a hell of a time to finally see Colby again.

“
We’ll head down the beach,” Alston says. “We’ll check The Strip if you guys will take the cove.”

Vin nods and looks back at me.
“We’ll be back shortly,” he says.

“
No,” I say. “I’m not just going to sit here while you guys are out plowing through that mess. If you go, I’m going too.” 

Reed
’s arms wrap around me from behind, like it’s his turn to hold me back against Vin just like I did with him and Alston that night at the party.

“
Don’t argue with her, Vin,” he says. “We’ll just stand here all day fighting about it. Just let her come with us.” 

“
Fine,” Vin says. “And
you
can explain her presence when we find him.” He barges through the kitchen and lets the screen door slam behind him. 

Vin sits in the middle
of the backseat with an elbow on the shoulder of each front seat. At least I get to ride shotgun during Operation Find The Missing Surfer.

Vin nods to the radio.
“Tune in to the surf station,” he says.

Reed punches the FWD button with his finger a few times, and the green numbers jump until he stops at 105.3. Sixties surf music plays faintly in the background, but
the weatherman’s voice is in the forefront. I imagine some terrible surf world announcement that Colby Taylor’s body has been washed up in the cove followed by information regarding his memorial service. I can’t even feel that twinge of happiness that I may see him again for the fear of his being dead…again.

“
A mass of jellyfish have washed up on the shores of Horn Island, north of the beach at Crescent Cove,” the voice says through the speakers. “Authorities are warning all residents and tourists to stay off the beaches until further notice. As previously stated, the waves and currents caused by these storms have made the waters unsafe for swimming and surfing, so please stay inside.”

“
Seriously?” Vin asks. “He’s worried about the fucking jellyfish?” 

Reed looks up at Vin through the rearview mirror and pulls out of the garage. We drive in the opposite direction of The Strip, down toward the high dollar condos and beach houses. Reed didn
’t bother to put the top up on his Jeep, and I wish he had. Flying sand stings my skin, and the rain drizzles over us. Hopefully A.J. was right about the sexy swamp creature look.

Vin pulls himself up against the
 rail above his head. Rainwater seeps through his shirt, and I flinch when I imagine how much that sand has to sting when you’re a standing target. I guess it doesn’t faze him since he has the better view of what’s ahead of us.

The rustic beach house comes into view, its weathered shutters rattling against the house from the wind, and I know we
’re close. That’s where we were the night I watched blue lights spin around the perimeter of the surfer’s beach house while east coasters swam in his west coast water. But Reed’s secret shortcut through the sand is nonexistent thanks to an orange barricade and ‘Do Not Enter’ sign. He stops the Jeep in front of them, right next to the beach house from the party. The hazy air hides any view of Colby’s house down the shoreline.

My cell
interrupts the moment. It’s A.J.

“
Fucking helicopters! A lot of them!” he screams through my earpiece. “Tell Reed and Vin! Tell them! Now!” His words all run together in a frightened breath.

“
Helicopters,” I say, looking up at Vin. “A.J. said to tell you there are helicopters.”

Vin falls to the backseat and runs his hands through his wet hair.
“Damn it,” he mutters. He reaches over the seat and I hand him my cell phone. He looks hopeless and far less intimidating with his spiky hair now falling flat. He seems younger, more vulnerable, and I seriously want to crawl over the seat and hug him and tell him it’s going to be okay.

“
Where are you?...From Horn Island?...Yeah, they’ll be here soon...At least it’s not sirens.”

He hands my phone back to me, and I wipe the sand off the screen. I slide my phone into Reed
’s glove compartment to avoid more damage.

“
What about sirens?” I ask Vin.

He leans in between me and Reed.
“We don’t like helicopters – at least not in packs – but A.J. takes them a lot better than he takes sirens. The helicopters usually aren’t looking for him, but there’s a good chance the sirens are.” 

Vin hesitates for a moment, like he’s trying to talk himself out of whatever he’s about to say, but he says it anyway.
“Why’d A.J. call
you
?”

Reed answers before I can.
“Seriously? Haley is A.J.’s new best friend.”

There’s that look again, the ‘I shouldn’t say this but I will’ look.

“Good,” Vin says. “It’s about time someone treated A.J. like a real person.”

Reed interrupts
what could have been an emotional breakthrough with a slew of questions – where the choppers are, why they’re out, if A.J. found Colby – and my head spins around his words.

“
We’ve gotta go...now,” Vin orders Reed. “They’re headed this way, and if there’s a search party out, there’ll be blue lights soon enough. We have to move fast.” 

Reed motions toward the barricades in front of the
Jeep. “Do you want me to get out and move those?” Sarcasm doesn’t flow well from Reed’s mouth. He’s too nice to pull it off. 

“
Hell no,” Vin says. “Plow through the damn things.” 

I actually have to fight a smile. Jerkoff-mechanic-Vin is back.

Reed throws the gear into reverse and slams back, slinging wet sand up around his tires. “Hang on!” he yells.

The
Jeep lunges forward, slicing the wooden orange-painted barricade in half. The ‘Do Not Enter’ sign falls to the sand, and we plow over it, just like Vin ordered.

The
Jeep jolts forward through the wet sand, leaving tread marks along the shoreline. The waves drift over them, filling them with sand and sea water, hiding all forensic evidence that we drove along the beach. The wind picks up, and the once-drizzling rain is now an open cloud drenching the three of us and the inside of the Jeep.

Reed slings his wet bangs out of his eyes. He parks the
Jeep near the water down a small hill from Colby’s house. I follow him and Vin as they run toward the back patio. Reed veers to the left and shouts that the truck is gone. Vin peers through the windows, then points below him.