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Maggie made her way to the farthest end of her beach, near the big rocks, slimy with seaweed and bird droppings and the endless years of sea washings. She knew from experience that this was where the tide deposited its most precious leavings. Things got caught in the little pools between the rocks. She rolled up the pant legs of her khakis and hunched down just like the kids. The water was calm and the tide low so that between each rock there lay a small distinct underwater world, safe for the next hour or so until the sea rolled over the rocks to suck back its treasures. She collected the green fuzzy sea urchin and the battered back shell of a blue crab and mussels torn loose from their home rocks. From nooks and crannies, she pulled out hermit crabs and gull feathers and a small sample of seaweed, the color of army camouflage uniforms. Over her shoulder, she sensed that something large was caught between two rocks further out from the shore and she straightened up to get a better look. It looked like a black plastic bag and she was furious that some careless boat owner had just hurled his trash into the ocean. But no she was wrong. Black plastic would reflect the sun. The surface of this dark form was dull and it billowed out, responding to each small motion of the sea the way clothes did when you went swimming in them. It was a body. She rested her collection on the top of a large flat rock and looked behind her. Erin and Katie were moving her way, their heads tucked together over some find. "Girls," she called as casually as possible. "Go back down the beach, will you?" "Why?" they asked. "I want you to tell Mr. M. to come over here. Just tell him. None of the kids. Will you go do that right now, please. It's important." She put her finger to her lips and waved them off. They hesitated, whispered to each other and then turned back. "Mr. M.," she could hear them calling as she clambered over the last two rocks between her and the body. She would have to touch it, turn it over because there was a chance this person was still alive. The water was deeper here. She dropped one leg down searching for the bottom and the frigid water shot up to the knee before her sneaker found a flat rock that would hold her. She took two handfuls of his green shirt, she knew now by the bulk of him that this was a man, and with her other leg braced, she flipped the body. It happened smoothly, the sea assisted her and now the form floated on its back, face exposed, eyes popped open. She knew instantly that this man was dead, probably had been for a while. The skin was a patchwork, blue white in some places and blotchy pink in others, as if someone had applied rouge where it didn't belong. The flesh looked fragile, at the very edge of disintegration. If you touched it, it would pull apart easily. She screamed and at the same moment, her foot slipped and she slid in up to her waist as if she had decided to share this man's private pool. She felt two hands slip in under her arms. "I've got you," Sam said. She nodded, but was unable to speak. "Hold on, I'll pull you up onto the rock behind you." Amazingly enough, he did, although she had no idea how he could get enough leverage. Her legs, bare at the ankles, scraped on the rough surface, but she didn't care. Someone was here. He would see. This was a dead body. She was not crazy. "Oh God," she heard him say, his breath tickling her ear."It's John Burling." Copyright © 1998 by Elizabeth Winthrop. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the Publisher.