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I went to the beach at about 4 AM to beat the crowds that come in early every morning to watch the sun rise. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for, but I knew there had to be some sort of clue there. I brought my flashlight, my raincoat, and, in case of danger, one of Trent's guns. Since he's never home anymore, I doubted he'd miss it.
The beach was still when I arrived. Even the gentle lapping of the waves seemed to have paused, a grim anticipation. The breeze that was in town did not extend out here. The picture felt frozen. It felt as though someone had forgotten to switch the "on" button for nature. And then I saw a figure at the edge of the water, wearing a ranger's vest.
I ran over to it and saw Lydia.
I called the police at once. Some officer I've never seen before arrived. I asked for Trent, but he told me Trent's too busy to come right now. They couldn't find Lydia's wallet or ID, so they "Jane Doe"d her, despite my insistences that I knew who she was. Apparently, she'd been stabbed in the throat and dropped into the water.
God, I feel sickened. If the police weren't keeping this all hush-hush, maybe people would have known to keep their eyes peeled. Maybe this could have been prevented. The cops seem to be keeping this murder under wraps as well, so I'm going to have to double-down on my efforts in this blog to make people aware of what's happening.
I've got to go. The forest service needs me. Update later.
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