“I did. I’ll be off in a little while. Sleep’s calling me. Loudly.”

“Oh, I remember those days. I always liked the graveyard shifts when I was your age though. Made me feel like Superman or something. Like I was the only one awake in the middle of the night to solve all the crimes.”

If Justin didn’t get to the point of his phone call quickly, Frank would be off and running on memories of his time on the force. He’d been retired for years now, but once a police officer, always a police officer. That’s the way it was with the men in their family. They might hand over their badges, but they never gave up their dedication to duty.

“I found something here that might interest you,” Justin said.

“Is that so?”

The sound of chirping fluttered through the phone, and Justin knew his uncle was in his backyard watching the birds. Justin’s dad, Frank’s youngest brother, always made fun of Frank for his fondness for birds, saying it made him soft. Frank never defended himself, but a steam of anger, or maybe embarrassment, would rise from his head and shoulders.

“What’d you find?” Frank asked.

Justin sat forward in his chair and sipped his coffee. “It’s a boat. Seems like it’s been in the river awhile. I thought you might be able to figure out who it belongs to. Or at least take a look at it.”

“I don’t know, I’ve been pretty busy lately.”

Justin didn’t comment. His uncle wasn’t busy doing much of anything these days. He worried about Frank sometimes. He didn’t see him all that often, though now that Frank had moved back to Sugar Bend from Pensacola, they only lived a handful of miles apart. But when they did see each other, Frank seemed lonesome. Or homesick. He was always patting his pockets or the top of his head or checking behind him as if he was looking for something—or someone—he couldn’t find.

Frank had been forced to retire earlier than he would’ve liked due to a leg injury sustained on the job. As far as Justin could tell, he spent most of his time tending to his backyard birds and taking long walks with his cane. Justin occasionally called Frank when he came across some curious piece of information, a mystery that he doubted would amount to anything but would make Frank feel useful. Still valuable.

He also knew Frank always said no first.

“I understand,” Justin said. “You’re busy. And you know what? It’s probably nothing. Just an old boat someone forgot about years ago.”

Justin chewed on the edge of his bottom lip as he waited for the moment when Frank changed his mind. He always did.

Frank rubbed his cheek, the sandpapery sound swishing through the phone line. “I don’t know, I might have a little time to check it out. Where is this old boat?”

* * *

Maya left early before her two o’clock shift at the Sugar Shack so she’d have time to run by the art shop first. She wanted to come every day, but she didn’t let herself. Didn’t want to be a nuisance. Plus, she’d stolen from them. She hadn’t meant to do it, but it happened anyway. If she were a shop owner and some stupid girl came in and stole from her, Maya would probably bar the door. Why should they be any different?