We’re so quiet with parking and exiting, a doe and her baby hardly notice when we tiptoe past them dining on tall grasses. Mom looks up, stiffens for a moment, and then resumes her snack.
About ten feet from the ridge’s edge, we drop onto all fours, crawling and then scooting to get the best vantage point without being seen ourselves, which, in all honesty, would only be possible if the people on the other end had binoculars or high-powered lenses aimed at us.
A single glance over the edge reveals that Cordelia Beach is alive with a roaring bonfire—and people. Lots of people.
Finan pushes the binoculars to his eyes. “Uhh …”
“What? What do you see? Can you tell who it is?”
He pulls the cups from his eyes and hands them over. “Prepare yourself.”
My stomach tilts. “Is there blood? Am I
