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His urge was to follow, but his legs refused his mind’s order. There was another girl waiting for him. He stayed on board. He’d let this one go. In a matter of seconds the train arrived at his stop.
    â€œBeach Sixty-seventh Street,” the loudspeaker crackled, and the doors opened.
    He descended the stairs, palming the rickety railing. A gang of high-school teens stampeded up the staircase, nearly knocking him down. His fingers longed for a serrated blade.
    The sun greeted him at street level. He smiled at the sight of so many abandoned bungalows and headed for the boardwalk, thrilled that his date had picked such a remote section of the city for their rendezvous.
    He climbed sun-soaked wooden steps. The boardwalk was empty. He was sure she had said Beach Sixty-seventh Street. Had he been stood up? He scanned the beach. A handful of sun worshippers dotted the narrow strand. By the ocean’s edge, a young woman was dabbling her toes in the waning tide. Sunshine streamed through her gossamer dress. Could that be his date? It was hard to tell from a distance.
    He removed his shoes and socks and strolled toward her. A thought lingered on the rim of his consciousness. All the ingredients were present for a truly romantic encounter. He thought of the girl on the train. Wouldn’t it have been satisfying if he could teach his heart to crave the tenderness of a woman? The notion disoriented him, but in a few seconds his resolve returned.
    He caught up with the girl at the shoreline.
    â€œHello, Monique,” he said.
    â€œHello.”
    â€œOr should I call you Ariel?”
    â€œAriel? Why would you call me Ariel?”
    â€œBecause you look just like the Little Mermaid,” he grinned.

Chapter 10
    The sun had climbed above the horizon and was hidden behind lead-colored clouds. The turbulent tide, its waves brown with sludge and darkened seashells, crashed onto the shore, delivering polluted brine. Though morning had broken, there were no gulls on the beach.
    In the company of her Labrador, a jogger ran the boardwalk, oblivious to the brooding ocean and its contaminated waves. Yet the absence of gulls unnerved her. They had also been her running companions, welcoming her morning endeavor. But not today.
    Without warning, the Labrador broke from its leash and dashed toward the boardwalk’s staircase, then bolted down onto the beach and under the boards. The jogger brought two fingers to her mouth and let loose a high-pitched whistle. The dog did not respond. The jogger raced down the steps in pursuit of her dog. Just under the boards she found the gulls. They were screeching boldly, flying in her face, and splattering what appeared to be blood in every direction. The sound of the gull’s fluttering wings and frantic squawking was as deafening as it was terrifying. The jogger was paralyzed with fear. Again, she brought two fingers to her mouth but couldn’t manage a whistle.
    â€œBrandy!” she hollered. “Brandy, please!” she cried.
    The dog reappeared in the midst of the blood-soaked birds. The jogger fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around the Labrador. That’s when she spotted it. Clenched firmly in the dog’s white canines was a trove her pet had looted from the gulls.
    â€œDrop it, girl. Drop it,” she commanded.
    The obedient dog let go of the trophy. The jogger suddenly recognized what it was the dog was carrying. It was a freshly torn human breast, its nipple adorned with a tiny ring of glittering gold. The jogger screamed. Grabbing hold of the dog’s collar, she pulled her pet out from under the boards and let loose another scream. But both screams were lost to the clamor of the hysterical gulls.

Chapter 11
    As he glanced at himself in the Impala’s rearview mirror, Driscoll realized he needed a shave. He unlatched the glove compartment, picked up the Braun cordless razor, and prayed the batteries weren’t dead. They were.
    He tossed