Twenty-Nine
Toni kicked her weary legs against the force of the tidal current. With the full moon, the tide’s ebb was stronger than ever, even in the protected harbor.
“Come on, Amy, hang in there,” she muttered. The girl was alive—she could feel her slow pulse—but she didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious or how much water she’d swallowed.
Her first thought, when Curt Rivers had said she was missing, was the seagulls. She’d probably tried to feed them or run after them, because what else besides birds could make such a well-behaved little girl break a rule?
She’d dashed out to the boardwalk and scanned the harbor. It was only because she knew the harbor so well—every boat slip, every nook and cranny—that she’d spotted the tiny figure floating toward the mouth of the harbor.
The
