Free Snared by Stefan Petrucha Page A

tattoo. Lindsay couldn’t tell what the design was (or if it was several individual patterns), but it covered his entire back.
    So much for being a respectable authority figure .
    Jack dropped the slicker on the sand and ran into the surf. Water crashed against his shins. He dove forward, disappearing beneath a white curtain of froth.
    â€œI hope you drown,” she mumbled. “Or sharkschew off your legs.”
    For a moment, she thought her wish had been granted. She searched the ocean for any sign of the man, but he seemed to have vanished into the waves. Is he some kind of fish-man? A sea creature that can make itself look human?
    That’s stupid. But where did he go?
    The explanation was simple enough: It was too dark for her to see. Still, Jack’s disappearance creeped her out.
    Lindsay decided to go inside and put a locked door between herself and the freak. She stood, but a second later a sharp click sounded in the night. She turned quickly to the source of the noise.
    On the porch of the house next door, a tiny flame flickered. In its dancing light, she saw the face of Mark’s other guardian, Doug. The tall, bald man was lighting a cigarette, and he was looking right at her.
    Terrified, Lindsay raced inside.

7
    The Redlands Mobile Home Park was half a mile south of the house Lindsay’s uncle owned. Farther south, rocky outcroppings broke the beach with jagged black ridges, jutting out into the frothing surf. In the early morning hours, a white Jeep owned by the Redlands Beach Patrol rolled over the sand in this area, doing a nightly sweep. Sometimes they caught teens making out, drinking, or carrying on so loudly the patrol was forced to run them off. Often enough, they found nothing.
    Tonight was terribly different though. As the Jeep approached the shore, its headlights fell on what one of the patrolmen initially thought was a pile of wet clothes. It only took him a few secondsto see the arms poking out from beneath the soaked fabric, and what he’d mistaken for a damp woolen sweater was actually a knot of thick knotted hair, covering the head of a young man. Always hopeful, the patrolman considered the possibility that this young man had fallen asleep on the beach, and was perhaps too drunk to notice the tide coming in to douse him. He finally accepted the dreadful truth when he noticed a group of crabs climbing over the boy’s bare legs and feet like large armored spiders, already at work on him with their pincers.
    The patrolman parked close and leaped from his Jeep. He ran to the body and shooed away the horrible crabs. He reached down for the boy’s arm, lifted it, checking the wrist for a pulse, but found none. That was when he noticed the cross carved into the boy’s palm.
    Â 
    In the morning, again woken by bright sunshine, Lindsay dashed from her bed to the window seat. She couldn’t help herself. She looked down into the yard, scoping the sand to see if one or both of Mark’s guardians were there. They weren’t. Shelooked at his window, and her heart sank. The black shade was still drawn behind the glass.
    â€œWe’re going to the beach this morning,” her dad said when Lindsay went downstairs for her coffee. “Gonna stake out a good place before all the riffraff take over the shore. You interested?”
    â€œMaybe,” Lindsay said. “I promised Ev I’d hang with her this morning. But I think she might be hurting today. We’ll see.”
    â€œSure, honey,” her dad said, his Winnie the Pooh happy-face changing to a look of concern.
    In her room, Lindsay took her coffee to the window seat. The shade was still drawn over Mark’s window. She thought about calling Kate. Talking about Mark might be a sufficient substitute for seeing him, but it was way too early, especially if her friend’s party had been a success.
    Where is he?
    Lindsay opened her laptop and powered it up, casting quick glances at the house