The rhythmic ocean, grabbing and pulling at the shore, made Officer Ian Frank uncomfortable. He never liked the beach; what was it good for but to get sand everywhere? And then there was the memory, the one he’d tried hard to push out of his mind for over thirty years, when, as a child, walking down a beach at Pajero Dunes with his father, they’d come across a dead seal. Seagulls tore strands of flesh from the carcass and pecked at its black Go-stone eyes. Ian had wanted to stop and look at the animal, to see death up close, but his father shielded him, guiding him closer to the surf and around the corpse. Two years later, his father was dead, having jumped off the Bay Bridge. It was a quiet funeral. Closed coffin.
“You mind going it alone?” said his partner, Officer Willis.
“Are you for real? You know I hate the beach.”
“It’ll take five minutes. I’m starving, and this breakfast burrito has my name on it. I’ll owe you.”
Ian wanted to protest, but what would he say? That it wasn’t jus…
