Fathom L. Standage (books for 8th graders .TXT) 📖

she? Was she a local, as Samantha thought when we saw her on the beach?

The beach…remembering it gave me a sudden idea. If I wanted to find answers to my questions, there was someone I could ask. Someone who knew the woman, or at least had spoken to her.

“Samantha.”

“Yeah?” She looked up from a display of mini surfboard key chains.

“If that lady was the person who was killed, maybe we could find out why. And why she gave me the clam.”

“It’s not really any of our business, though.”

“But giving me the clam was the last thing she did before she died.”

“Liv, that lady was probably a druggie and didn’t know what she was doing. She might have overdosed on whatever she was high on.”

“Either way, there is someone who might know why all this is happening.”

Sam’s face looked blank for a second, but soon her mouth dropped open. “Hottie McScottie!”

I nodded. “They were talking together yesterday. He knows her. It’s a long shot but if he’s back at the beach, we can tell him what happened, or at least make sure the victim isn’t her. Let’s go see if we can find him.”

Both of us darted out of the gift shop and hurried past the blockade.

If he did know the red-headed lady, he might want to know she was dead. He might know her family and maybe why she was so into seashells with light bulbs in them. Maybe he was the “captain” the woman mentioned. At this point, anything was possible. We had no other leads. And I needed to get this off my mind, and hand it off to someone else. Hottie McScottie was the best option we had. The best option with really nice eyes and a nice voice and an accent that—

“Olivia,” Samantha said, interrupting my thoughts. Good, I shouldn’t be thinking of him. I’d sworn off guys.

“What?”

Her lips barely moved as she gripped my arm. “Don’t look. But I think someone is following us.” Pretending I needed to dig something out of my purse, I looked behind me. A tall, scraggly-looking sort of man with a crop of shoulder-length hair shuffled along behind us. With his hands in his pockets, he looked at the houses as he walked.

“What makes you think he’s following us?” I whispered.

She swallowed, her voice thin with alarm. “I saw him staring at us after we left the crime scene. I thought he was a perv, so I gave him a dirty look.”

“Let’s just make sure. Turn down this street. We’ll see if he keeps coming.”

We turned. Soon after, so did he.

“What do we do?” I whispered, trying to stay calm and look casual. “We can’t go home.”

“Maybe we could go back and talk to the cops back there.”

“They’re a little busy right now. And didn’t the guy start following us back at the crime scene?”

She cringed. Then looked at me. “Cooper. We’re almost to the beach. We can go find Cooper.”

“What if we can’t find him?”

“He’ll be there.” Was she was trying to convince herself or me?

“Can you try calling him?”

“Yeah.”

She found the number on her cell phone and called it. As every second passed, the worry in her face deepened.

“No answer.”

We continued walking, both of us trying to stay calm and keep from looking at the man following us. Once, before crossing the street, I looked both ways, then glanced back. The man was still there, closer than before and watching us.

My heartbeat doubled. Samantha grabbed my arm and pulled me across the street. Our pace quickened. I looked back again. He moved faster too. I lost it and broke into a run. Samantha hurried beside me, but several paces back, our pursuer did the same. Why was he doing this? In broad daylight! Panic brought a sick tightening to my diaphragm as I looked back yet again. He didn’t slow. A smile curled on his upper lip. Why didn’t we just go back to where all the crowds were, indifferent cop or not?

We turned the corner and hurried along the street, the beach just ahead. Good, more crowds. I was losing steam, my breath coming in short gasps. At last, we stumbled over the low cement barricade and landed on sand. I looked around in terror, trying to spot Cooper or Hottie McScottie or anyone. We just needed someone bigger who could offer us some protection from the man gaining on us.

“Cooper!” Samantha cried, her voice shrill with fear. I saw him too, just ahead with his surfboard, wearing a rash guard with board shorts and a man bun. Both of us ran awkwardly on the deep, loose sand until we collided into him. For once, the size of his arms brought me a sense of relief. He put down his surfboard.

“Dude, what’s the matter?” he asked, baffled but not displeased by our abrupt appearance.

I looked back. The man had stopped at the barricade, watching us with an ugly sneer before stalking off.

Samantha pointed. “That man was following us. He chased us all the way from where we were shopping.”

“Really?” Cooper frowned toward where the man had been standing and encircled his arms around our shoulders. “Well, the dude’s gone now. It’s all right.”

“We can’t go home,” I said, sliding away from Cooper’s arm. “Should we call the police?”

“I’ll come with ya. Me and the guys will come hang out at your place for a while.”

I smiled, full of relief and gratitude. Cooper was all brawn and little brain, but at least he had some sense of chivalry. He turned and whistled to a few other boys walking back into the surf.

“Yo, Jason! Pete! Let’s break for a while, bro. Maybe Sammy and her friend can make us some waffles.” He gave me a crooked smile.

“Sweet!” his buddy replied as he came out of the surf.

“Just walk us home,” I said, angry at Cooper’s expectation of food. “We’ll be fine once we get there.”

He argued, but still came with us, keeping his arm draped around Samantha’s shoulders as