Anthony stood dumbfounded on the beach. If sheer force of will could have brought Kate back, she should have reappeared on the beach, but of course she did not. It was as if she had never been. In fact, if it hadn’t been for her strobe light lying accusingly on the beach, he might have believed that she hadn’t been there. There was no other evidence to suggest otherwise. The sand on the beach was undisturbed, save for the slight traces of singed sand which the light wind was slowly covering. Even ships didn’t sink and leave so little evidence behind—there was always flotsam, and likely as not an oil slick on the water. Even the Edmund Fitzgerald, which had probably driven herself under, had left a lifeboat and a half behind. Here, there was nothing at all. Nothing but the strobe light and a charred strip of sand.