The Deadbolt Replaces It

The heat off the travertine burned through the soles of my flip-flops by two in the afternoon. The water sat flat, a sheet of pale turquoise reflecting the blank sky. For three weeks, nobody had touched it. The floating basketball hoop drifted against the skimmer box, bleached gray along its plastic rim.

Jordan stood five feet from the coping, his yellow goggles pushed up into his tangled hair. He held a blue foam kickboard against his ribs like a shield. His toes gripped the dry stone, curling tight every time a breeze rustled the bougainvillea against the block wall.

“Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, buddy.” I sat on the low retaining wall under the patio overhang, a cold bottle of soda sweating against my palm.

“Did you look at the gate?”

“Looked at it an hour ago,” I said. “Deadbolt’s thrown. Code pad is disconnected.”

“And the wire?”

“Gone. Sheriff’s evidence locker down on Fourth Street.”

He took two small steps forward, stopping right at the edge of the shadow cast by the patio roof. His gaze flicked down to the seam where the coping met the deck, tracing the clean gap where the black cord had rested three Saturdays back.

“You sure nothing’s in the skimmer?” he asked.

“Checked both baskets this morning,” I said. “Just two palmetto bugs and some mesquite pods. Power’s only running to the filter pump, and that breaker’s brand new.”

Ava sat at the glass table behind us, her sketch pad flat in front of her. She hadn’t put on a swimsuit, but she had kicked off her sandals, resting her bare heels on the cool rung of the chair. She didn’t say anything, just watched her brother’s back.

Jordan walked to the edge. He toe-tested the stone, pulling his foot back once when the heat bit his skin. Then he set both feet at the lip of the coping, bouncing on his heels.

“Say it,” Jordan said, looking over his shoulder.

“Water is cleared,” I said.

“Say it like the lifeguards do at the park.”

I set my soda on the concrete, stood up, and walked out into the glare until I stood three feet behind him. “Pool is open. Surface clear, deck clear, bottom clear.”

Jordan pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He bent his knees, sucked in a breath of hot desert air, and launched himself up and out.

He tucked into a ball, hitting the center with a sharp thud that echoed off the stucco wall. A wave crested over the edge, dousing my shorts and splashing straight across my face.

I wiped the chlorine from my eyes. Jordan surfaced three yards out, sputtering through a wide grin, shaking water from his ears.

Behind me, the screen door slid back on its runner. Ava stepped down onto the bare stone.