Page 9 of Death of a Grill Master

A shape.

Moving at the edge of the rocks.

“Do you see that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

Bruce squinted. “That a dinghy?”

“Looks like it’s being pulled up on the rocks,” she said.

As the firework’s light flickered out, it illuminated a woman—slim, dripping wet, dressed in tight shorts and a dark tank top. She heaved the small boat halfway onto the shore, stumbled slightly, then darted up the rocks and disappeared into the trees without looking back.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Who takes a dinghy out during fireworks?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to be seen,” Hayley said.

“Or a college kid on a drunken dare. Or a really bad first date escape,” Bruce added.

Hayley kept staring at the spot where the woman had vanished. “Weird timing.”

“Very weird,” Bruce agreed.

A final rocket burst above them, glittering gold over the bay, and the crowd erupted into cheers. People began packing up—folding chairs, bundling blankets, tossing half-eaten bags of kettle corn. The spell of summer had officially broken.

Bruce stood and stretched. “Let’s go find some overpriced ice cream and celebrate the workers of America by forcing a teenager to serve us for minimum wage.”

The air had cooled, and as they began to gather their belongings, they could see the path was lit by soft overhead lights from the marina and the glow of storefronts now closing for the night.

A familiar voice called out to them from behind.

“Hayley! Bruce!”

They turned to see Liddy jogging toward them, slightly breathless and adorably flustered in a floral sundress and denim jacket.

“Have you seen Doug?” she asked. “We were watching the fireworks, and he said he needed to make a quick phone call before the finale. He walked off and never came back.”

Bruce tilted his head. “Maybe he found a signal and fell into a TikTok hole.”

Liddy blinked. “That … is unfortunately plausible.”

Hayley placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Reception’s a mess down here. He’s probably still out by the parking lot waving his phone around over his head like he’s catching butterflies. He’ll turn up.”

Liddy sighed. “If he doesn’t, I’m officially swearing off men and adopting a cat.”

“Now, that’s the spirit of Labor Day,” Bruce said.

They waved her off, as Bruce emptied the melted ice from the cooler. Most of the crowd had already thinned, and Hayley bent down to start packing up their thermoses and chairs—

And froze.

Floating in the shallows between two jagged rocks was something dark.

Heavy.

Unmoving.

Her body tensed.

“Bruce,” she said quietly. “Hold my thermos.”