Page 1 of Chain Reaction
CHAPTER 1
Eleanor Clark walked down the seashore, the early morning sun casting pastel hues through the air as the ocean crescendoed then receded beside her. The late April day was the perfect temperature—not warm enough to be hot, but not cold enough for a jacket. Her sweatshirt and jeans felt just right.
This was one of her favorite months on Lantern Beach. The tourists hadn’t begun to descend and wouldn’t for another month or so. Life on the shore was quiet, and the empty beaches gave her more opportunities to treasure hunt—her favorite hobby.
She paused on her walk and stared at an object partially buried in the sand near her feet. Using her hands, she swept away the gritty grains from the top.
Her pulse quickened when she saw the faded gray paint.
Then she dug out the edges until the shape of the object materialized. It appeared to be metal, probably three feet long and eight inches in diameter. It was shaped like a missile.
Normally she found shells and occasionally some beach glass. Her best treasure up until this moment was a red antique perfume bottle that had been perfectly weathered by the waves and sand.
She’d never found something like this before.
She was nearly certain this was a wartime relic.
Had it come from an old shipwreck? Or had a plane dropped it from the sky?
A grin curled her lips.
Eleanor shouldn’t be surprised that this had washed up. Last night’s storm had been a doozy. It was one of the reasons she’d come out early this morning to beachcomb. Those kinds of weather systems usually churned up the best treasures.
She glanced up and down the shore.
No one else was walking the beach this morning. But the last thing she wanted was for someone else to find this and claim it as their own.
No, Eleanor had found this first, and it was hers. She was going to be the talk of her beachcomber club.
As determination—and excitement—hardened inside her, she stared at the object another moment.
How heavy could it be?
She circled it and observed the fins on the back that made it look like a mini torpedo.
A torpedo? She nearly laughed at herself.
How crazy was that thought?
This was a treasure of the sea.
She bent down and tested the object’s weight by lifting the narrow end. Her sixty-six-year-old body didn’t flex the way it used to. But she could handle this.
The object was heavy but not as hefty as she’d thought it might be.
She stepped closer and straddled the relic. Then she reached for the center, wrapped her arms around the middle, and lifted.
With a heave, she hugged the object to her chest and tried to catch her breath.
It wouldn’t be an easy walk back to her beach house. But thankfully, she just needed to make it over the wooden walkway crossing the sand dune. Then she’d be home.
She took a laborious step through the thick sand. Then another. The added weight slowed her progress as her feet sank with every pace forward.
People here said this beach was full of sugar sand because of the consistency of the grains. Eleanor got a workout each time she came out here. But the effort was worth it—especially on days like today.
Finally, though her lungs and limbs screamed in protest, she made it inside her house. She slowly hefted her find onto her kitchen table.
Then she stared at it and grinned.
