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Chapter 34

Reaching behind her, she rests her right wrist on her lower back the way she does during the game to signal to him. There’s no mistaking her message—her middle finger stands up tall from a tight fist.

* * * *

The Wildwood Beach Volleyball Tournament is an annual event held in August just off Second Street, a part of the beach far enough from the boardwalk that it doesn’t gather too many tourists. There’s an empty lot a few blocks away where the old Acme used to be, and volunteers in reflective vests direct traffic that way. Even at quarter to eight in the morning, the beach is packed—Colby cruises with one foot on the clutch, his beat-up old Beetle barely easing above five miles per hour as he coasts along in the hopes of snagging one of the coveted parking spots along the street. He already knows it’s fruitless.

Megan sighs. “Just stop the car.”