Myrtle Beach, South Carolina Christopher was in no real hurry to get back out onto the open sea. He walked up the beach to a busy seaside café, sat in the shade at the bar that faced the beach, and watched the tourists stroll by. Though they were obviously on vacation, everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. Mothers literally dragged their children along; most of the husbands were carrying the beach towels, folded chairs, and coolers. It made Christopher tired just watching them.
He ordered a grilled cheese sandwich from a male waiter and sipped on a soda while he waited. For some reason, he felt more relaxed and confident than he had in a long time. It felt good knowing that, more than likely, he was going to win the money. There was no way on earth that Matthew Fox was going to find him in Myrtle Beach, especially once he got back out on the water. If everything worked out, his first step would be to go to Jenny and lay the money at her feet. He would tell her to do with it what she pleased. Pay off all of their debts, start another college fund for Kristy, or just stop working and worrying. His optimistic mood, he knew, was due to the phone call home. It always lifted his spirits just to hear Kristy's voice.
"Here you go," the waiter said. He placed a heavy white plate in front of Christopher, along with an order of French Fries.
"I didn't order fries," Christopher said.
"On the house."
Christopher lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Thanks."
"No problem. You've been waiting a long time out here in this heat," the man said, and then he was off again.
Christopher ate as he watched the ocean. The waves were non-existent and the sea foam seemed to creep up onto the sand, lose its grip, and slowly fall back into the ocean. He could have fallen asleep watching the constant, dreamy motion.
He was ready to topple over onto his plate in a state of near sleep when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't look at me if you can help it," a strange male voice said in a half-whisper when Christopher started to turn his head. He glanced back to the beach.
"Good," the voice spoke again. "Very good."
"Who the hell are you?" Christopher demanded.
"My name is Spencer Grim, and I'm here to save your life."
Christopher, feeling suddenly stupid for taking orders from a rather rude stranger, turned and looked the man directly in the face. He looked vaguely familiar… Suddenly it hit him. The "stranger" was at the mansion in Oregon.
"Sure you're not going to kill me?" He grinned, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "You found me."
"You don't understand."
