5.
THE TWENTY-EIGHTH OF OCTOBER, 2017, Los Pelicanos, Baja California, bright morning sunlight stabbed into Jay’s eyes. He hadn’t slept well. The consequence of drinking alone. A gulp of strong black coffee he’d just brewed made his stomach jump, as if he’d seen a rattlesnake. He added cream, put on sunglasses, and went out onto the patio. A breeze blew off the ocean, and the air was clear. The palm trees down near the beach were flapping their long skinny leaves, like they were about to take flight. He stood for a time and watched a fishing trawler on the horizon.
At eight o’clock, he walked down the malecón to the homeowners’ association’s office to get a visitor’s permit for Lyn. He’d not seen her recent text until this morning. It was a bad idea to check messages just before bed. The
