The Sea Club is a small condominium complex that rents by the day and week. It sprawls along a stretch of beach across from Pattigeorge's and hosts the same guests year after year. During the off-season, Longboat Key is a small place, and most of the year-round residents know each other. Chris and Bill, the husband and wife team who managed the resort, are friends of mine.
"Matt, how've you been?" said Chris, as I walked into the small airconditioned office the next morning.
"I'm fine, Chris. Kind of glad the season's about over."
"I know what you mean. What can I do for you today?"
"A young woman named Peggy Timmons stayed here a couple of weeks ago. She's the daughter of a friend, and she's missing."
Chris turned to her computer, stroked a few keys, and said, "I don't have her in the system. Are you sure she stayed here?"
"Sam Lastinger over at Pattigeorge's said she did."
I handed her a copy of the Peggy's picture.
"Sure," said Chris. "I remember her. But she was using a different name. Came here with a group of people. They took one of the two bedroom units."
"How many people?"
"Five, total. I figured them for two couples and one older guy, maybe somebody's dad."
"How long did they stay?"
She stroked the computer keyboard again.
"Three days," she said.
"Names?"
"Matt, if it wasn't you, I wouldn't give these names out."
"This is important, Chris. The girl is eighteen and her parents are worried sick."
A few more strokes.
"Linda and Larry Olsen, Yvonne and Patrick Walsh, and Jake Yardley. That was the older guy. He paid for everything in cash."
"Do you remember which name this girl used?" I asked, tapping the picture.
"No. Sorry."
"Addresses?"
"Yeah, but they're probably as bogus as the names."
"Got to check them out."
"I guess so."
She stroked the keyboard a few more times and the printer next to it came alive, spitting out a single sheet of paper.
"Here you go," said Chris. "The young people all have the same address in Athens, Georgia, and the older guy gave a Tampa address. The phone numbers are there too."
"Thanks, Chris. You've been a big help."
I left the office, stopping for a moment on the shell parking lot. The Gulf was turquoise and still, stretching to infinity. A lone pelican soared overhead, rising effortlessly on an air current, heading to the Gulf for breakfast. High cumulus clouds drifted lazily, and the smell of frying bacon rode the onshore breeze. I could almost hear it crackle in the quiet of the early morning.
This was truly a paradise. How could anything bad happen here? But bad things did happen in beautiful places, and we usually didn't see them coming.
There's a darkness lurking deep in the souls of us all. Our parents instill in us a modicum of civilized behavior and that usually keeps our baser instincts at bay. But sometimes that blackness seeps to the surface and a monster walks quietly among us. Because we are not attuned to evil, we don't see it rise up until it strikes us down without warning. I was afraid that Peggy Timmons had stumbled into the darkness and met the beast.