Free Expert Witness by Rebecca Forster Page B

She heard their burst of laughter and that ticked her off even more. They weren’t laughing at her she was just pissed that they were happy and had nothing better to do than sit around drinking.
    Two women walked toward her: the big one waddled and the other was so old she toddled. A man on a beach cruiser slalomed around Hannah, and then a tall woman in running shorts and a backward baseball cap jogged past. The woman could have been Josie; that woman should have been Josie. 
    Hannah swiped at her hair. She climbed over the low retaining wall that separated the beach from the bike path and trudged through the still-hot sand. It filtered into the back of her gold shoes and chaffed where it got near her toes. Angrily, she ripped off her shoes and high-stepped with a vengeance toward the shore.  She hated the sand, the smell of the ocean, and grown people running around like children eager to get in another hour of play before it got dark and their mothers called them home to dinner.
    Hermosa Beach wasn’t the real world. The real world was scary and out of kilter and not right, and if these people weren’t careful they’d end up like Josie.  Gone somewhere, leaving someone alone, abandoning someone again.
    Hannah stopped a few feet from the water’s edge and took a deep breath, surprised to hear the tremors of a sob intermixed with it. She tossed her shoes on the sand on the other side of a berm. Scrambling over it, she dug in her heels and planted her rear; she pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and realized it was Archer she was mad at.
    Wait.
    That’s what Archer said as he ran out the door.
      Go home . Walk the dog . Stay put.
    Well screw him. Letting her head fall back, Hannah closed her eyes and, ever so slightly, began to sway hoping some part of Josie would reach out to her.
    Even with her eyes closed, Hannah was aware of the blue world of Hermosa Beach.  Robin’s egg day faded into navy nights. The palest, palest baby blue wispy clouds hung offshore. She had tried to paint this place as a way to claim it as her home, but this kind of beauty was elusive. The colors morphed by the minute and the landscape of it was flat. Sand, sea and the sky all coexisted seamlessly. There was no drama, no conflict to focus on.
    Beach people were equally hard to define. They weren’t super-charged with the energy it took to pursue success. They didn’t lust. Hannah could spot lust a mile away. These people simply loved without restraint and accepted that people came and went. Their souls went no further than their smiles; their worries were lost in big hearts. Their beauty was worn like God’s hand-me-downs, still attractive in their faded glory. Except for Josie.
    Josie’s kindness was tempered by practicality. Her compassion was reserved for those who deserved it. Her beauty was strong. Josie walked beside Hannah, but stayed far enough away so that she couldn’t be clung to.  Josie was objective, pro-active and a problem solver. She was Hannah’s friend and guardian and mentor and muse. And she wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere.
    At least Archer had something to do. Well, she would do something, too. Whatever she did had to be something important, but Hannah didn’t know what that something was yet. The beach was almost deserted. People were off to dinner or to the bars, and it would do no good to sit in the sand and count and tap her concern away. Max would need attention; there was no way around that.
    Ten minutes later she was opening the door to the house and letting Max out into the yard. Real night was coming. There was homework to be done, but before she could do anything the phone began to ring. Hannah ran for it and grabbed the receiver.
    “Josie! Hello!”  Hannah cried.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
    An Outbuilding in the California Mountains
     
    Josie’s eyes were dry and gritty, yet the cheek pressed into the ground was wet. It was if she had been crying in her sleep. There was only one