Vanished in the Dunes by Allan Retzky Read Free Book Online Page B

there is no mistake in their purpose. A security guard on the far end of the pool shouted, “Stop him. Stop the thief.”
    Posner sat up, followed the guard’s pointed arm and looked to the far end of the grounds. A boy was running away, no more than a flash of thin dark arms in the twilight, but there was enough light to see that the boy clutched Posner’s recognizable beige bag in one hand as he sprinted across a long stretch of small jagged bouldersthat bordered the hotel grounds. At first Posner stared in some awe as the boy glided effortlessly across the stones, an animal species that levitated above the sharpest edges, and then he raised himself upright and began to scream.
    “Catch him! Catch him!”
    Only then did he spring from the chaise and begin to run after the boy. Another guard at the edge of vision moved into a slow trot, at best barely a performance gesture, and without energy.
    Posner ran after the boy and quickly became the lead pursuer. The boy had somehow approached the chaise and snatched his bag. Posner could not allow such a theft without some action. The boy turned once to check his pursuers. There was a brief flash of dark arms and hair before he ducked behind a rock outcropping.
    Posner continued to run, but he was barefoot and the sharp rocks cut flesh from his instep. He had been violated, and the pain from the rocks soon slowed his pace and a security guard easily passed him. He finally pulled to a stop and bent over. He felt his legs wobble as if in spasm. Just as he straightened up, he saw his bag between two large rocks no more than ten feet away. The thief had dropped it while making his escape. He checked the contents. Everything was there. He turned back toward the hotel and saw Sara standing near where the rocky boundary began. He waved to her as he held the tote above his head and jammed his thumb in the air.
    A noise from behind caused him to turn back. The security guard was standing next to a boy. The guard began to slap him again and again. The boy soon fell to the ground and the guard then kicked him repeatedly. There was a scream and then silence. It was all over in seconds. The guard turned and looked back to where Posner stood. Posner held the bag in the air and the guard offered a weak smile and began to walk toward him.
    “Why were you hitting him, and why didn’t you call the police?” asked Posner.
    “They’re all the same. Fucking Arab thieves. We couldn’t prove anything so this is the best way to treat them,” was all the guard said.
    As they walked back together, Posner looked over his shoulder and saw the boy stand and walk toward a group of similar age. He watched the guard peel away back to his post on the far side of the pool while he massaged his right hand with his left.
    The next morning as they checked out, the hotel manager told Posner that the actual thief was an Israeli boy from the neighborhood who had a recent history of such actions. The boy’s father found out and advised them early that morning, but the hotel declined to call in the police.
    “His father will discipline him, and that is enough,” the manager said. At Sara’s suggestion, Posner had started to ask about the other boy, the innocent Arab boy, but thought better of raising the issue. “What good would it do?” he later asked her. “It’s a cultural thing, and innocence is not always what it seems to be.”
    Ten days after Detective Wisdom’s visit, Posner sits alone in the living room of the Manhattan apartment watching television. Sara has consented to let him back in the apartment for a few days at a time, and he’s grateful she doesn’t raise the old issue of his fidelity. She asks him to sleep on the living room sofa bed. He doesn’t argue and just accepts that he must somehow gradually regain her trust.
    “Television is a good way to quickly decompress,” she’s always said when they’d drink wine and watch together, but she isn’t here now, and he thinks that the