A Story A Day. Story 51 of 365: Footprints (IV).

It was lunch time and Dana and Tray had already eaten what felt like a thousand times. Every housewife they spoke to insisted on them sharing the table with their families, or on them trying some local speciality if they had already eaten. If it were necessary for them to spend much longer in that village they would also need new clothes. Unfortunately, food was the only thing they had obtained so far from their visits. No one had seen anything special or strange, except the footprints, of course. Some men joked about the sea people, seeing that it were old women's stories, and their wives, invariably, told them not to joke about the things they didn't know. Apparently, sea people lore was very extended in that zone, which was understandable taking into account the relationship they had with the sea. Long ago it had been a fishing village, but, by then, only the most stubborn old men would sail the seas in search of catch. The fish banks had been almost fished over long ago, and as soon as they recovered the big companies took the seas. The town was dying, the youngsters looking for a brighter future elsewhere. The only reason it survived was because the surfers seemed to like it, the waves where wild.

-Thank you a lot, Miss Murphy.- said Tray, as usual.

-Oh, call me Edna!

-Well, Edna. Thanks for the food.- he saw how Dana loosened her belt, that made him smile.- Everything was delicious.

-I'm glad at least I was useful for that, I wish I could have given you some more information.

-Don't worry, Edna.- intervened Dana, it was not like it was any different from all the other places they had been so far.

-You can come back anytime you want, you'll be always welcome in my house.- as all the other housewives so far, she said that from the bottom of her heart.

As soon as they had left the house and Edna had closed the door, Dana lead Tray closer to the sea.

-I swear that if I eat something else I will burst, now I understand why the sheriff is so fat.- she sat on the edge of the seafront.- Who's next?

-Let me check the list.- he said as he sat down next to her.

The sheriff had given them a list of the people who lived closer to the seafront, and those who where in the possible path of the footprints. Tray took it out of his pocket and looked at it closely.

-Do you have a pen? I think we should cross out the ones we have already visited.

Dana looked inside her bag and started taking things out. She was always very orderly with most of her stuff, but her bag was a mess, as she would throw everything inside without even looking. After a while she produced an orange pen. Tray had been staring at her amused. Dana caught him red handed.

-Here you are, mister. And don't look at me like this, it makes me wanna kiss you and we're working right now.

-Well,... we need a cover...- he said taking the pen she was handing him.

-Stupid!- she hit him playfully on his arm.- Everyone knows what we're doing in here.

-Mmmmm, too bad, I had the hope you'd fall for it, but you're too smart.

-Enough, back to work. Who's left?

-Ok, we've visited and eaten in almost all the directions the sheriff has given us. I think there is only one left, Genevieve Foster, an 85-year-old widower, who lives alone.- he took the map and checked the location of the address linked to the name.- She lives on that old house at the end of the seafront.

Dana looked at him.

-Do you really thing it's worth going there?

-Well, maybe there's still something that we need to try.- joked Tray.

-I'm serious, think about it, there is lots of work back at the central, and we would be much more useful there than we are here chasing after who knows what.- she was clearly concerned.

-Mmmm, here's what we are going to do. We'll talk to this Genevieve and we're going to spend the night guarding the seafront, to see if there is actually anything to be seen. If there's nothing we'll leave, with Evan's permit or without it.

She still looked unconvinced, he stood up, took her hand, and, after squeezing it, he pulled her back on her feet.