Page 56 of Code Word
I got out of his cab and, without looking back at him, headed the way he’d told me to go. I walked out onto the beach, and it did look exactly like the photos the Atrous fan had posted with the location. The white sand stretched for maybe a mile, the water was blue, but the evening sunlight was making everything pastel and pretty.
There were bars up on the shore to my left, with fire pits and hanging lights, some cabanas. People walked along the waterline, some with dogs, some with kids.
There were people in the bars too. It certainly wasn’t pumping busy, but I wasn’t alone.
And these bars, those cabanas weren’t the ones in the pictures. So I kept walking, looking at my phone, at the photos every so often. I tried to allow for the different angles, for the time of day and change of sunlight.
Toward the end of the beach, I stopped.
I looked at my phone, at the photos, then back up to the bar, to the cabana. I was pretty sure this was it. It looked like a private house; I wasn’t sure.
Except it wasn’t a cabana. It was a veranda, a covered patio that looked more like a bar than a patio. There were timber posts and ceiling fans, patio-style furniture, and a woman sweeping the floor.
I looked at the photos again, at the photo of Luke, and I was pretty sure it had to be it.
I walked up and called out to the woman, not wanting to scare her. “Hola señora, D-disculpe.” God, my Spanish was not good. “Uh... ¿Puede ay-ayudarme? Por favor? Sorry, my Spanish is not good.”
She stopped sweeping and looked at me.
I gave her my best smile, trying to appear friendly and lost. I held up my phone, showing her the photo of Luke. “Have you seen this man? I’m looking for this man.”
She glanced at the photo, then at me. “No.”
Then she kept sweeping as if I wasn’t even there.
“I’m a friend of his,” I tried. “He’s kind of missing, and I’m trying to find him.”
She kept sweeping, kept ignoring me, so I took that as my cue to leave her be.
Fine. Whatever.
I headed back down the beach to the next place. There was a man with his kids near the water, and I stopped him, showing him my phone screen. “Excuse me, por favor. Have you seen this man?”
He shook his head and pulled his kid closer like I was a bad guy. “No, lo siento,” he said.
I gave him a smile so I didn’t seem threatening. “Gracias, thank you. Sorry.” I backed away and kept walking, trying not to feel disheartened.
What I wanted to do was scream or sit down on the sand and cry.
The next place up was dark and it looked empty, and from the background in the photo, it definitely wasn’t the right place, so I parked my ass on the sand and tried to get a fucking grip.
I didn’t know what I’d expected.
To find him? Maybe.
But god, I’d hoped.
And hope was a godawful thing.
I had a text from Bec.
LMK when you arrive. Keep me updated. Be safe.
It just made my heart hurt even more because she’d been nothing but kind.
Have arrived. Found the beach he was on but haven’t found him. Will keep looking
Then I sat there and watched the waves come in, one after the other, as the sky and sand got pinker and the air got colder.
