As was my habit, I woke up at five-thirty the next morning. There was another bathroom next to my bedroom so I used that one to clean up and prepare for my walk on the beach. I dressed in warm clothing and left quietly through the front door.
Murphy’s bike was still out front next to my truck, and I wasn’t sure if I felt relief or something else at the sight. Once I’d gone to bed last night, I’d kept an ear out for Murphy, but he hadn’t made a sound.
I crossed the road and trotted down the old wooden steps to start my stroll west toward the Misty View Motel. It was overcast, gray, and cold. The wind had picked up since yesterday, which meant rain soon. Before long, I was surprised to see the tall, massive frame of Murphy Vickers trudging along in the distance.
From time to time he would
