Page 1 of Ten Years Later
PROLOGUE
TEN YEARS AGO
Keaton Young presseda kiss to his four-year-old daughter’s pale brown birthmark, just below her left ear. She smelled like coconut and the ocean.
Vivian giggled. “Daddy, why do you always kiss me there?”
“Because that’s where the angel touched you when you were still in your mommy’s tummy.” He double-checked the floaties secured to her arms before noting the beginning of a pink nose. “You stay here while I go get your hat and more sunscreen.”
Her curly black hair bounced as she nodded. She got that hair from her mother. Now windblown and tangled, it’d be a booger to comb through later tonight.
Keaton left Vivian sitting in the shallow tide pool surrounded by toys and a sand castle in the making. He waved to his friend Leo out in the ocean hollering as he body surfed the waves.
As Keaton walked up the packed beach to his family—both his side and his wife’s—he noted yet more people had arrived for the Labor Day weekend. Music floated in all directions—an odd mixture of reggae, rap, and southern rock.
He loved living at the beach, but like any local, dreaded those long holidays when the whole world seemed to descend upon St. Augustine, his coastal Florida town.
He waved to yet more friends as he ducked under a blue and white striped cabana where his family and in-laws sprawled.
His wife, Cora, looked up from her book, simultaneously sipping from a large straw fed into an insulated mug. “I do believe your brother makes the best margaritas.”
Keaton and his identical twin, Zane, had grown up with Cora, whose parents had formed a tight-knit bond with theirs. Although Cora and Zane maintained a sibling-like relationship, it was different with Cora and Keaton. They had harbored a mutual crush on each other from the beginning.
“I can smell the tequila from here.” Keaton helped himself to a sip as he dug around in their beach tote for Vivian’s hat.
“Thank you for playing with her, so I can just chill,” Cora said.
“You’re very welcome.” Keaton found Vivian’s hat and the SPF 50 wedged nearby in the sand.
Beyond the cabana, Cora’s mother and Zane laughed while playing paddleball. The rhythmic thud of the ball against the paddles filled the air. Under the cabana, Cora’s father napped in a beach chair. Keaton’s mother relaxed in her own chair, eyes closed, immersed in the world of an audiobook.
Suddenly, Cora sat up. “Keaton?”
“Hm?”
“Where’s Vivian?”
“What?”
“Where’s Vivian?”
Keaton’s gaze darted toward the tide pool, some twenty yards away seeing deserted toys and one pink flip flop floating in the water.
But Vivian was gone.
1 /TEN YEARS LATER
Keaton brushedhis teeth as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed a haircut, badly, and to shave. His brown beard, which, as Zane put it, surpassedDuck Dynastylength.
Whatever. Zane could be so dramatic.
Just yesterday, Zane had said, “Dude, you’re scaring our clients.” In response, Keaton responded, “I’ll shave tonight and cut my hair.”
So much for that promise.
Dressed in his painter’s overalls, screen printed withBrothers’ Painting,he walked from his bedroom. Down the hall sat Vivian’s room, the door closed. He gave it a cursory look as he cut into the living room.
Zane sat on the couch, drinking green juice and scrolling his phone. On the cushion beside him rested a spare pillow and folded blanket. Not glancing up from his phone, he started rambling, “Coffee’s on. Thanks for letting me crash last night. Remind me not to have whiskey ever again. I put your mail on the counter. What’s up with the past due stuff? We’ve got to be at the job site at nine. Don’t be late. The owner wants to meet both of us seeing as how it’sBrothers’Painting. We get this joband we’re set for months.” Zane put his phone down, looking up. “Dude, really? You said you’d shave and cut that mop.”
