He had heard someone call his name. And it couldn’t have been Daddy or Mama or Charlie or Elliott. There was nobody else in the house. A dream, Gavin thought, and shrugged it off. Just a dream. Not even the recurring dream with the golden boy who never talked. Gavin shook his head. He had promised himself he wasn’t going to think about him anymore.
Gavin listened again—nothing. No one, no strange sound, no breathing, no name. And the rain had stopped. Gavin poured and gulped a glass of orange juice, then slipped out the front door, across the deck, and down the stairs to the sand. The beach was all his. No one. Not even an early morning fisherman, throwing his line out over the surf. The tide was going out, leaving behind a wide expanse of flat, wet sand and scattered tide pools. Past the
