AllFreeNovel
Share Us
28
ARCHER
Two months later, Jacobi gets a postcard in the mail.
A beautiful, scenic beach on the front. No return address, just a stamp. And the words Wish you were beer.
The postcard will have a spot of honor on Jacobi’s fridge, stuck with a magnet of a pinup fly girl. It will remain there until January 11, when two squad cars pull up, answering a neighbor’s complaint that they heard shouts. The officers will find the body of a man, one Antonio Jacobi, tied to his kitchen chair. They’ll report a blood spray pattern that suggests a blade was used across his throat, similar to a knife or a sword.
There’s an empty spot on the refrigerator, however, a clean rectangle outlined in blood where a postcard used to hang.
I’m miles away, and I won’t find out about any of this, not until it’s too late.
29
ARCHER
I’m vulnerable like this.
Prone on the beach towel, wearing only a thin pair of trunks. My vision is completely impaired—sunglasses on my face, hat overtop. The only thing I can see is the reflection of my own eyes mirrored back at me.
If someone wanted to end me, they could. Right now. Stick a knife in my chest and I’d never see it coming.
But I couldn’t care less. Because I’m on a beach on a remote island near Costa Rica, and no one is after me or Finley.
I’ve got my arm draped over my head. The light breeze tickles the hairs underneath my armpits.
Water roars and crashes on the shore and then hisses as it drags sand and shells down with it.
I’m sun hot and burning, but my muscles are too relaxed to move.
This is the kind of peace I couldn’t have dreamed of a couple of months ago.
Now, it’s my life. Every goddamn day.
It’s over. The fighting. The running. All of it. There’s nothing left but me, Finley, and the white-sand beaches.
Speaking of. I know she’s here because I feel her—the soft weight of her pulling at the towel as she sits down beside me. Cold droplets fall from her and practically sizzle on my chest and belly. She’s come back from a swim in the ocean, and I don’t bother getting up, but I can still feel her moving around, drying off.
“I have a job for you,” she says.
“I’m off duty,” I mumble. “I only have energy for two things. Drinking sunshine and soaking up my beer.”
“So you don’t have time to put sunscreen on my back?”
“I have energy for three things.”
I remove my hat from my face, unfurl from my spot on the beach towel, and sit up. Finley shifts her back to me and pulls her hair from her shoulders. She’s wearing a black one-piece that clings to her form, with a swooping neckline and a small ribbon that ties around the back, like a present.
She is a gift, I know that much.
I resist the urge to tug at her ribbon. I don’t resist the urge to press a kiss to her shoulder. Her skin is cool from the ocean, and I taste the sea salt on her throat.
She cocks her head to lean into my kisses but reminds me of my purpose: “Sunscreen is in the bag.”
“Copy that.”
I remove the bottle of sunscreen from the beach bag we’ve dragged down here, which also contains nuts, dried fruit, bottles of water, bottles of beer, a book for me, and a sketchbook for Finley.
