The Ocean Wore Red

By Robin Buckallew

When Alex found a red dress snagged on a bush, she felt compelled to take it home. Now she struggles to maintain control of her own body as her mind is consumed with the desires of another woman, a woman who seems to be long dead. Was it the woman who wore the red dress that so startled the town 50 years ago? Or is it a woman who lived even longer ago than that? The bones on the beach seem to be trying to tell her something, but can she figure out what it is before she finds herself in a situation that has already killed at least two women?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387883516

Book preview

The Ocean Wore Red

The Ocean Wore Red

Robin Buckallew

Saffron Books

2018

Also by this author:

The Diary of Mrs. Noah

The Transformation

Yesterday and Tomorrow

Alpha & Omega: Book I of the Godmaker Triloty

Blood Ready

Everywhere & Nowhere: Book II of the Godmaker Trilogy

I Am: Book III of the Godmaker Trilogy

It Is What it Isn’t

Copyright © 2018 by Robin Buckallew

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2018

ISBN 978-1-387-88351-6

Saffron Books

I dedicate this book to all the librarians I have known. Libraries have been a large part of my life from early childhood, and the librarians have proven their worth by stocking books I would like to read, helping me find what I was looking for when I didn’t know myself, and absolutely never saying shhh to me.

1

The beach was deserted, but noise from the arcade disturbed the solitude. Cold wind bit through the thin fabric and the sleet plastered her hair to her head. Anne turned her face to the wind, the numbness in her heart succumbing to searing pain as shards of ice pelted her without mercy. The ocean was in fine form today, roaring with all the ferocity Neptune can muster. She shivered and drew the meager fabric of the red gown around her thin shoulders as though to protect her from the cold. She stared into the foam, daring Neptune to come and get her, daring him to move out of his own domain into hers.

No, that wouldn’t do. Neptune would never leave the comfort of his own bed to cradle her in his arms. If she wished for his embrace, she would have to make the first move. One step. Another. Small footprints moved across the beach, the holes left by her heels forming a period to her step. Another step brought her closer to the embrace of the ocean, and further and further from the…no, she mustn’t think about home…or him. She mustn’t think at all. Don’t look back…don’t watch the warm lights penetrating the frigid air, don’t think about the warm fire. Just…move forward.

She hesitated at the edge of the ocean as waves lapped over her dainty shoes. The wind was still bitter but she didn’t feel the bite. The sleet still lashed but she felt nothing. There was no warmth, not within the noisy arcade, not within the quiet lights. The ocean extended an arm to the woman, teasing her with the promise of a loving embrace, but the scowl of white caps betrayed the deception. She shuddered and stepped back. One step, then another. She would not lie with the sea tonight. She would go home, knock on the cold wooden door, and be welcomed back into the fire…the fire…no, she would not go back to the fire. Her steps faltered. She shrank away from the fire, from the waves, and reached toward nothing. The black nothing turned his back. She was caught between the fire and the waves, longing for nothing, for blackness, reaching for the light.

This was not what she came here for…what did she come here for? She struggled to remember. No, it was no use. Her light was gone. The only thing left was the ocean. She stumbled and felt the heel wrench from her left shoe as she limped toward the waves, toward the angry scowling ocean, away from the lights and the noise. A strong force rose inside her, tried to pull her back, force her to move away from the ocean. She brushed off the grip, and pushed forward, forward, closer to the waves.

The waves lifted her. She was flying. She sank, falling back into the waves with grace, the thin red of her ball gown spread across the surface of the sea, wet, no longer light. The hem snared a log on the bottom, the skirt tangled among the weeds, and her own red dress dragged her into the depths. The sea burst forth with one more mighty roar as it swallowed the proffered meal, then gulped once and was silent.

2

Saturday was warm and the sun coaxed the small town to come to the ocean. The trip to the beach seemed too good to be true. All her life, Alexis dreamed of being able to drop by the beach anytime she felt like spending a weekend in the ocean. A far cry from Kansas, she thought. This is the life. Okay, so I do have to go to work this afternoon, but still, I can enjoy my morning on the sand.

The noise from the nearby amusement park spoiled the peace of an impending nap. Alexis scowled at the offending structure and pulled out her head phones. She shuffled through the music choices, and eventually settled on classical. It was hard to chill out to hard rock, and she didn’t want any disruption this morning. She opened her book and settled in for an hour of reading before she entered the water.

There were several couples on the beach, but Alex was the only solitary individual. One family settled in under a large umbrella far down the beach. Alex frowned at them, hoping the force of her distaste for other people’s children would be transmitted through some negative vibe. Too late. Two teenage boys raced across the beach, making a point of kicking up as much sand as humanly possible. Alex glared at them, but they didn’t notice her until the younger one…or was he younger? She was a lousy judge of teenager ages, in spite of being barely out of her teens herself…skidded to a stop in front of her with a whistle to express his deep admiration for her smooth skin and long legs.

Looka this, Caleb, a dream lyin’ right here, just waitin’ for Prince Charming to pick her up and haul her away.

Caleb slid into position next to his brother, and joined him in a long wolf whistle loud enough to penetrate the headphones. Alex pivoted on her towel, turning her back to send them the message she wasn’t interested. That was a mistake. She felt a cold wet hand on the back of her neck sliding toward her chest. She grabbed the hand as soon as it slid into a position where she could get a strong grip. With ease bred through long practice, she flipped him over her head and dumped him on his back in the sand. It was the older boy, and his sense of outraged dignity was not ameliorated by the whooping laughter of his younger brother.

Look at you, Caleb! Thrown by a girl! Hahahaha!

Shut up, Corky. Shut up! I’m gonna kill you if you tell anyone, I swear it!

Corky came closer and shoved his face into hers. His look was mean and Alex shivered in spite of the warmth of the day. These two could be trouble, she thought. What if they charged her together? Could she handle both of them? They were larger than she was. She could throw them one at a time if necessary, but both at once might be a bit much for a blue belt. She knew her limits and was not prepared to exceed her ability. Corky knelt beside her and stared. He started with her face, then moved his eyes slowly and with a lack of subtlety down her neck toward her chest, covered with a scanty bikini that revealed more than it hid.

She ignored him, preferring not to get involved in this altercation, but he was not willing to stop at staring. He tried to hide his hand as it crept from behind his back, but she saw it creep toward her chest and was able to grab the wrist before he got a feel. He joined his brother on the sand on his back. For some reason, Caleb had decided it was a good time to lie on the beach and stare at the clouds…Corky pushed him.

Hey, you’ve got to protect me.

Don’t neither.

"Mom said so. You’re my big brother, you’re supposed to protect me.’

The two boys tussled, rolling over and over on the sand, throwing punches and kicks that missed their mark most of the time. Alex started to turn away, but the fight drew her attention. This was high entertainment and she settled back on her elbows to observe. The fight ended when Corky decided he’d had enough and bit Caleb on the shin. Caleb launched a blow at his brother’s eye that finally connected. A couple of blows later, and the two sauntered back toward their siblings down the beach…if it is possible to saunter with a limp. Alex grinned and waved. The boys did not wave back.

Her spot on the beach fell silent once more and she settled back to her reading. It wasn’t a very good book. She lost interest and decided it was time to go for a swim. She felt eyes on her as she slipped her beach robe over her shoulders, revealing the bikini she just purchased yesterday. The eyes belonged to Caleb and Corky, of course, but also to several other men on the beach, one of whom suffered a cuff on the side of his head from the young woman next to him. He turned his attention to his girlfriend until she settled back on her towel, then turned his eyes once again toward Alexis. She decided the bikini had been a bad idea. It was an impulse buy, one of those things she did to prove to herself she was now a free woman. Free woman, she mumbled, doesn’t automatically mean smart woman. I don’t even like bikinis. They’re damned uncomfortable. Why?

Alex shook the questions out of her head. No use disrupting the day. It was disrupted enough, and if she was going to get in a swim before she went to work she’d better head toward the ocean now. The sand tingled as she sprinted toward the shore, savoring the moment when the waves first ran over her feet. I’m living on the coast, she enthused, and flung herself into the water. It was warm and inviting, and she moved cleanly through the water. She swam with vigor for several minutes, then flipped over on her back and floated. This was the life. She would be able to come here most weekends, at least while she was able to maintain her internship. No, she thought. When it’s over, I’ll stay anyway. I can live where I want to now. I am free. I am alive. And I am young.

Her mother’s face rose before her eyes, the look of disapproval casting a cold chill on the morning, but she thrust it away. Go home, Mother, she whispered. You belong in Kansas. I’m in Maine now. Mother hesitated as if she were going to protest, but shrugged and disappeared.

A glint of red flashed, and faded as quickly as it appeared. Alex swam toward the spot, curious but not disappointed when it turned out to be a mirage. She was in the shallow zone now and able to stand with the water embracing her to her shoulders. She waded slowly, splashing and pretending to be an otter…a favorite game when she was a little girl, until Josh told her otters were boys and she couldn’t be an otter. When she protested she was a girl otter, he held her head under water until she screamed for Mom. Mom sided with her brother…girls were supposed to be ladylike, and otters weren’t ladylike. Funny…why did that come to mind now? She hadn’t played otter for years.

The red flashed again. Now it was further down the beach. Alex swam toward what she assumed was another mirage and found herself in a remote cove not far from the arcade. This part of the beach was deserted and the sound of the arcade was muted, in spite of the proximity. I’ll remember that, she thought, when I come out here to be alone. I doubt Caleb or Corky have ever seen this spot. She forgot the flash of red as she explored the small beach, locating a good spot for watching the ocean without being seen from the arcade or the main beach. She saw the flash of red again and waded toward the spot. This time it remained constant, and she reached the spot where a red gown was caught in a crack in the rocky cliff.

Alex maneuvered the cloth loose, prying it from its trap without tearing the fabric. She could tell it was an expensive dress. Did some girl come here after her prom, have a good time, and forget her dress? No, surely not. It was much too old fashioned…looked like…something from the 1950s, maybe? Or earlier? It was very fine material and appeared new, so it couldn’t have been in the water long. Maybe a shipment of costumes going to a theatre for some sort of period play? This one fell off the boat and washed up on this beach.

Alex decided it wasn’t likely to be much of a mystery. There wasn’t going to be a need for her new investigative reporter role…oh, stop it, she admonished herself. You are an intern, not an investigative reporter. Well, I will be an investigative reporter someday…yes, I will, you just watch me! Alex stopped. She was doing it again…arguing with her family, although there were now many states between them. They were sweltering in the Kansas sun, the hot dusty sun that seemed so dirty, while she was standing in the ocean up to her waist in the clear cool water off the coast of Maine, breathing the intoxicating scent of clean salt air.

A car horn beeped and she came out of her reverie. It was time for her to get back to work. She started up the slope of the hidden beach but something pulled her back. She gathered the red fabric she’d dumped on the beach, tucked it under her arm, and headed toward her towel, now the domain of a couple of small children who escaped from Caleb’s inattentive care and claimed her small spot as their own. The young man ran to collect his siblings as she returned from the cove, but slid to a halt as he saw her approach the towel. She gathered her belongings and headed downtown. A quick shower in her tiny apartment refreshed her, and she headed to work, the red dress carelessly tossed on the backseat.

3

The afternoon was slow, and Alex couldn’t get the red dress off her mind. She couldn’t believe someone just left it on the beach. It looked expensive. Maybe they turned in some sort of report that it was missing. She was shaken by a sense of longing, a feeling unfamiliar to her. She didn’t spend a lot of time worrying over strangers, in spite of being a journalist, but she knew she had to meet the person who left this dress behind. Why? She tried to concentrate on formatting the documents on the computer in front of her, but she kept seeing red…literally. The dress danced before her eyes, teasing her.

Why did someone leave a fancy ball gown on the beach? Was she in trouble? Was she sending a message? Maybe a signal…to a distant lover…and now, I’ve interrupted her message, Alex thought. Damn. Spoiling a lover’s tryst was really bad form. She thought about returning the dress, but it might be too late already.

The computer! She had a tool handy, ready-made research. Rather than moon about the dress, she should act on her hunches. She typed missing red dress into Google, and came up with over 5 million hits, but nothing looked promising. All sorts of red dress projects, red dresses for sale, and missing people, but nothing about someone looking for a missing red dress. She changed her search to red dress signal and got nothing but warnings that a woman wearing red is sending a signal to be harassed. Archaic. Unhelpful. She searched Google images, hoping to find an image of the dress. It was no use…wait…no…yes! There was the identical dress…worn by Marilyn Monroe in the 1950s. Her instinct was right…this was an old-fashioned dress.

It was a pretty sure bet Marilyn Monroe had not been on the beach any time recently; in fact, probably not ever. This dress was new, in spite of the retro look. It hardly looked worn, which meant it hadn’t been on the beach very long. Nothing on the beach stays new looking for any length of time. Alex had been in Maine only a month and already realized that salt water was hard on materials, and a dress snagged on a rock would have been torn by crashing waves and wind very quickly. It must have been put there since the last high tide. She checked the tide tables that were already a fixture of her life. Low tide was 9:37 a.m. The dress must have been placed there since that time. She strained her memory to see if she could call up anyone on the beach other than the strange family.

That family! Alex frowned and growled to herself, remembering the intrusion into her pleasant morning, and no mother around to teach those boys how to treat a woman. No mother…you suppose? Alex shook her head. Those boys were not society and this dress was plainly a high society dress. Although, if the mother was having an affair, her boyfriend could be buying her nice things…no, stop it, Alex, she scolded. Stop spinning fantasies about mysterious lovers based on one piece of red cloth. That’s the stuff romance novels are made of, a genre you’ve spent most your life mocking. If Jessica finds out about the…Alex shook herself, determined not to let her family intrude into her new life. Jessica was back home in Kansas, settling into her new life with her husband and her upcoming baby, the same life Alex was brought up for and rejected, in spite of their mother’s cheerleading. No, leave the romance novels to Jessica. She can devour three in a week; Alex couldn’t imagine getting through one in three years. Boring! Still…

Alex pinched herself, and forced her attention back to the computer screen. This was no way to approach a new internship she was hoping to jumpstart into a new job. Mooning around like a love struck teenager over nothing! A dress that just happened to be a replica of one once worn by Marilyn Monroe.

A sound in the other office interrupted her work. She glanced around the empty newsroom. Everyone else was gone. She had to work Saturday as some sort of initiation ritual, she supposed. There was no weekend edition, and everyone else was at the beach…the beach…no, don’t start again. Get a grip, she thought. Stop being a muddle head…she smiled as she remembered the phrase her grandmother always used when anyone made a silly mistake…don’t be a muddle head. If I miss anyone in Kansas, Alex thought, I miss Grandma…a sound interrupted her nostalgia.

Hello?

There was no answer. The lights were off in all the offices except this one.

Who’s there? Sandy, is that you?

That’s it, of course. Someone was playing a joke on her, trying to spook her by sneaking into an empty office while she was supposed to be the only one in the building. She decided to ignore them, not give them the satisfaction of seeing her frightened. Still…what if there is someone there? Someone who isn’t supposed to be there? After all, this city, though small, was about thirty times larger than West Mineral, Kansas. She didn’t know anyone here and no one knew her, so why did she feel so safe? Alex shivered, though the temperature was comfortable.

She picked up a souvenir lighthouse her boss gave her as a welcome gift, and hefted it over her head like a club. She inched her way toward the inner office, her breathing heavy and labored. A flash of light stopped her. She saw her reflection in the glass walls of the office. She looked pretty silly, sneaking around with a plaster of Paris lighthouse over her head. She lowered the lighthouse but kept a grip on it as she inched toward the door. Another flash of light revealed someone wearing red standing by the picture window, staring at the ocean. It appeared to be a woman. Alex crept closer, now against the wall, sliding her back along the wall to avoid being seen, which was difficult in a room made of glass. She cracked the door and slid through the tiny opening, determined not to startle the visitor until she was ready. The element of surprise could be crucial. She might not be quite up to another altercation so soon after throwing the boys at the beach.

Life in West Mineral was never so exciting. The most excitement was being the home of the second largest electric shovel in the world. Alex momentarily forgot why she left her hometown, thinking only about the safety of a town where nothing ever happened.

The intruder gave no sign of noticing her. That’s strange, she thought. I can see me in the glass. Why can’t she? The ocean had changed. The calm morning sea whipped itself into an afternoon frenzy of white caps and howling waves. Alex stared at the angry water; she never saw the ocean look like that. There had been no storms since she arrived and nothing was expected today. The weatherman predicted mild winds and no clouds, and when she arrived at work, it was exactly as predicted.

Alex clutched the lighthouse, gripping it tighter as she inched toward the woman in the window. She couldn’t hear any wind and the trees were still in the afternoon air. Why was the ocean in such a state? She lost her grip on the statue and it clanked to the floor, breaking into three pieces as it alerted the intruder to her presence. Alex put her hands up in proper judo form, but dropped them to her side again as the woman turned to stare at her. Alex might have been looking in a mirror. She stared into her own face, paler than her usual ruddy tan, framed by her black hair nicely complementing a bright red gown. Alex grabbed a paperweight off the desk to use as a weapon, but it was too late. The woman was gone.

4

The officer closed the door to the inner office and settled into the chair across from Alex. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, his long fingers twined together behind his head. He closed his eyes and for a moment, Alex thought he was asleep. When he spoke, his voice contained none of the harsh efficiency she heard when he flew into the office in response to her emergency call. His tone was light, almost teasing, but she also heard the unmistakable sound of mockery.

Nothing happening here. You have a very active imagination. I’ve heard that’s normal with writers…even pretty ones, I imagine.

Alex glared, but the officer didn’t see her scowl. She wondered if he typically closed his eyes before hitting on a woman so he wouldn’t see her negative reaction. What a jerk, she whispered, low enough he couldn’t possibly hear. She stared at his badge, determined not to let him, or anyone else, bother her. She memorized his number, repeating it over and over like the lines she once learned for a high school play. She didn’t plan to report him…what could she say, he called her pretty, and it annoyed her?...but the action made her feel more comfortable, an illusion that she could retain control. Once she memorized the badge, she swirled until the back of her chair faced the officer. She heard his chair squeak and felt a sense of gratification as he took in the knowledge she was snubbing him.

If you’re sure you’ll be fine here? The officer rose to his feet and thumbed through his notebook for the proper page to make an entry. She watched him in the glass where she so recently saw her own reflection. He lost interest in Alex, or at least made