"Sometimes he hangs out a lot down here," he said, gesturing toward a beach side bar. Camey peered through the dirty plate-glass window. There were only a few people there, none of them being Brad.

"No," she said, wishing she hadn't bothered Rick or anyone else. This was stupid. What was she going to say to Brad when she found him? What was the sense of it all?

"Okay, then let's go down here," he said, indicating a side street leading off to the east of the Walk. "We got some buddies who rebuild bikes. Sometimes he likes to hang around there."

Camey was beginning to shiver. It was growing cold. Glancing over one shoulder she saw a gray fog bank hanging off the coast, getting ready to roll in at any second. Still she followed Rick down the narrow street lined on either side with one story wood beach houses. At the end was a larger home, apparently deserted. There were no signs of cars or bikes. But Rick marched up to the side door and motioned impatiently with one hand for her to follow. Camey shrugged and walked quickly up to the home. This, she was sure, would be another wild goose chase.

"Come on inside," Rick said, opening the door.

How odd it was that someone in this neighborhood would leave his door unlocked. There was something sinister about this. Camey sensed she should, run down the street while she could. But curiosity got the better of her.

"OH!" the girl screamed as the door slammed shut and locked behind her. For a while she saw nothing, her eyes unaccustomed to the sudden dark. There was movement in front of her. Two shapes loomed out of the dusky light, one of them being Rick.

"Looks like Brad ain't here," he said mockingly.

Camey stepped back, her shoulder blades touching the door. She reached behind her, her fingers searching frantically for the doorknob.