**

Running on the beach feels good. How long has it been? Ten years? As I run, the low morning sun on my face transports me back in time and I know I’m home. I hadn’t realized just how much I miss Rehoboth.

A high school buddy is getting married next weekend, so the boys and I (full disclosure, we were never just the boys; Jane has always been one of us) decided on a bachelor party. It won’t be the stripper thing; Jane won’t have any of that. And with the lingering summer weather, I’m sure we’ll end up in the dunes, drinking, for old times’ sake. 

My mind wanders as I run; I can’t wait to see my friends again. Suddenly, I notice a small section of sand jiggle. I slow; the sand really is moving. It takes me a moment to comprehend but I finally see what it is. There, digging in the sand about halfway between the water’s edge and the boardwalk, is an odd little person dressed completely in sand-colored clothes, including a large brimmed hat. 

I wonder if the morning light is playing tricks, but as I get closer, he glances back at me with surprise. As I slow even more, he moves away at lightning speed. Hunched over and sprinting, carrying a small sand-colored satchel in his hand, he makes his escape. 

He’s obviously fine, maybe embarrassed, so I pick up my pace. I look back once, but he’s gone, just like that. 

I face forward and inhale deeply; the ocean air rejuvenates me. When I reach Poodle Beach, I turn up the beach and take to the boardwalk for my return run. I’m feeling strong and look up. I see the little man again. He’s two blocks ahead and racing across the boardwalk. If I hadn’t seen his face, I would have guessed him a preteen. But he doesn’t have the uncertain stride of a child, he moves like he’s got some place to be. I watch, and notice he’s carrying a small plastic child’s rake as well as the bag as he heads toward the restroom. He pauses at the entrance to the men’s room, looks around as if making sure no one sees him, and then hurries in. 

I’m curious, but don’t want him to spot me. I wait some, then walk into the men’s room. But when I enter, the room is empty. There are two urinals and two sinks on one side, a block wall on the other, and a single stall at the end. I check under the partition and don’t see feet so I push the stall door open. It bangs against the dingy tiled wall, which makes me jump, but the stall is empty. I search the room, but even though there isn’t another way out, he’s disappeared.

**

He didn’t see me, so when he’s a few yards down I decide to crawl out. I croc-walk forward, searching for the passage; I assume this path leads to the restroom entrance. I inch forward, but it’s very dark. I feel my way, pawing at the canvas for the opening. Just then, a light explodes in my eyes, blinding me. I raise my arms and call out.

“Don’t swing!”

“How’d you get in?” The Thief’s voice is surprisingly deep and raspy. 

“Sorry. I saw you sneak in behind the gazebo.” I drop my hands. 

He steps back. “I know you. You waved me off.”

“I told my friend what I saw and he told me who you are. He went searching for you, but he didn’t find the door.”

“Then I suppose you’ve come to rob me?” He grips the bat tighter. 

“No!” I pull the paperback from my pocket and toss it to him. “I read this story after seeing you on the beach. I thought it was a myth, but then I saw you again.” 

“After hearing why my friend wanted to find you, I couldn’t let that happen. It’s your life; who are we to ruin it?”

He cocked his head at me. 

**