After lunch, they all went to the motel office and registered for another night. Then the two groups split up, giving Donna and Sandy a chance to put on their swimsuits. Jud relaxed on his bed, ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head. He fell asleep.
“There they are!” Larry announced, waking him. The nervous man left the window and inspected himself in a mirror over the dressing table. “How do I look?”
Jud glanced at the red-flowered shirt and white shorts. “Where’s your Panama hat?”
“I could hardly pack everything on such short notice.”
They left their cabin. Larry rushed ahead to meet the two women, but Jud hung back to have a long look at Donna. She wore a blue shirt with sleeves rolled up her forearms. Below the hanging shirttails, her legs were slim and dark. No trace of a swimsuit was visible.
“I do hope you’re not au naturel under that blouse,” Larry said.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Oh please, give us a peek. Just a teensy one.”
“Nope.”
“Oh please.”
Sandy lunged forward laughing, and swung her denim handbag at Larry. He spun away, ducking. The bag whunked his back. “Cruel midget!” he cried out.
The girl started to swing again.
“That’s enough, honey.”
“But he’s weird,” Sandy gasped, laughing.
“Is he always this way?” Donna asked Jud.
“I only met him last night.”
“Is that true?”
“Judgment never lies,” Larry said.
They got into Jud’s Chrysler, and Larry gave directions that took them down Front Street past the Chevron station, past Sarah’s Diner, and down two more blocks of shops. Beast House loomed ahead, on the left. The talking and laughter abruptly stopped, but nobody mentioned the house.
Larry broke the silence. “Turn right on this dirt road.”
Jud made the turn.
“Is that where Axel’s mother lives?” Sandy asked, pointing to the brick house.
“That’s the place,” said Donna.
Jud looked at the brick house to his left and saw that it had no windows. “Strange,” he muttered.
“Indeed,” said Larry. He asked Donna, “How do you know Axel?”
“He gave us a ride into town last night.”
“There’s a weird duck.”
“He’s retarded,” Sandy explained.
“Who wouldn’t be, with a mother like Maggie Kutch?”
“What?” asked Sandy.
“Axel’s mother is Maggie Kutch, the owner of Beast House, the tour guide.”
“Her?”
“Yes indeed.”
“Did she remarry after the killings?” Donna asked. “Keep to the right, Judge. No, she did have visitors, though. Town speculation had it that Wick Hapson fathered Axel. He’s been working with Maggie from the start, and they live together.”
“The man in the ticket booth?” Donna asked.
“Right-o.”
“Charming family,” Jud said. “It looked like the house didn’t have any windows.”
“It doesn’t.”
“How come?” Sandy asked.
“So the beast can’t get in, of course.”
“Oh.” The girl sounded as if she regretted asking.
The dirt road widened and ended.
“Ah we’re here! Just park anywhere, Judge.”
He turned the car around so it headed out, and parked off to the side of the road.
“You’ll absolutely adore this beach,” Larry said, getting out.
Before opening his door, Jud watched Donna. As he’d assumed, she was wearing a swimsuit under the shirt: the bottom part of one, at least. Its blue fabric shined at him when she bent to climb out.
He joined the others beside the car. The wind felt good, cutting the heat like a cool spray.
“Are we off?” Larry asked Donna.
“We off?” she asked Jud.
“I’m ready. You ready, Sandy?”
“You’re all weird.”
They walked single file along a narrow trail that angled downward between two sandy hills. Jud squinted into the wind. It fluttered in his ears, batting away all but the loudest words as Larry told of a childhood experience at the beach.
After they rounded a curve in the trail, the ocean came into view. Its choppy blue was frothing with rows of whitecaps. Waves slammed against a rocky point. Just this side of the point, the waves washed quietly onto a stretch of sand. Jud could see nobody down there.
“Ah wonderful!” Larry yelled, spreading his arms and sniffing a deep breath. “Last one to the beach is a rotten egg!” He began to run. Sandy chased after him.
Jud turned to Donna. “Don’t you feel like racing?”
“Nope.” Wind threw strands of hair across her face. Jud brushed them away. He couldn’t look away from her eyes.
“I bet I know why,” he said.
“Why?”
“You’re afraid I’ll beat you.”
“Is that it?” Her eyes were amused, but serious, as if she wouldn’t permit herself to be distracted by his banter.
“That’s it,” he said.
“Is your name really Judgment?”
“It really is.”
“I wish we were alone, Judgment.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her against him, feeling the press of her body, the light touch of her hands against his back, the smooth, moist opening of her lips.
“We’re not alone,” she said after a while.
“I guess we’d better quit, huh?”
“While the quitting’s good.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s good,” Jud said.
“Me neither.”
Holding hands, they walked down the trail. Below, Sandy was running across the beach just ahead of Larry. She splashed into the water. Larry stopped at the water’s edge and dropped to his knees. The girl waved for him to come in, but he shook his head. “Come on!” Jud heard through the noise of the wind and surf.
Sandy pranced in the water, crouched and splashed at Larry.
“We’d better hurry,” Donna said, “before my charming daughter gets carried away and drags him in.”
Even as she said it, the girl ran ashore and began to tug one of Larry’s arms.
“Leave him alone, Sandy!”
Larry, still on his knees, managed to look around. “It’s really all right, Donna,” he called. “She’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Letting go of his arm, Sandy circled behind him and leaped onto his back. “Giddyap!” she shouted.
He lunged and twisted, scrambling through the sand on hands and knees, making a noise that sounded, at first, like the whinny of a horse. Then he was on his feet. Sandy, clutching him tightly around the neck, looked back at Donna and Jud. Though she said nothing, her face showed fear. Larry swung himself in a circle, tugging at the girl’s arms, and Jud saw terror in his wide eyes. His whinnies were ragged gasps of panic. He pranced and bucked, trying to tear himself free.
“Oh my God!” Donna cried, and broke into a run.
Jud raced past her toward the girl now screaming in horror.
“Larry, stop!” he yelled.
The man didn’t seem to hear. He kept jumping and writhing, pulling frantically at the girl’s arms.
Then Sandy was falling backward, her legs still hugging Larry’s hips but her arms loose and flailing. One of her small hands clutched Larry’s collar. The shirt split down his back, and he screamed. Jud caught the falling girl. He pulled her free.
Larry spun, looking at them, his eyes wild. He began backing away. He fell. Propping himself on an elbow, he still gazed at them. Slowly, the strangeness left his face. His harsh breathing grew calm.
Jud left Sandy in her mother’s arms and went to him.
“She shouldn’t…have jumped on my back.” His voice was a high whine. “Not on my back.”