The beach was abandoned, at the point where it preceded south from the state beach but not yet a part of the Trestles Beach portion. There the point stuck out into the ocean to create the conflicting broken sea environment that led to sometimes legendary surf, which broke massively in unexpected and challenging directions. Herberich had been right where I’d expected him to be at the three o’clock time I’d given. I wondered how long he’d been there waiting. There was no end to the enthusiasm and energy that rookies could bring to any police scene, as long as that energy and enthusiasm was directed in such a way as to produce service to the public and peaceful resolutions to problems that didn’t seem to have those available to them.

The potential crime scene, where the towels and other materials had been carefully placed, was gone. Even the evidence of where the stuff had been was lost because of the constant wind and blowing spindrift. That substance the wind inherited from what blew off the top of the incoming waves of some considerable size was detrimental to anything left lying around on the shifting surface of the sand. It was a tough afternoon, at least for anyone not wanting to encounter elements that are not often advertised about a beaten shore situation. Any evidence tapes or indication that the authorities had been present was also gone. I explained the situation as I had witnessed it earlier, to both Steed and Herberich.

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