“Hello?” I answered, forgetting to check the caller ID before I picked up.

“Winston!” Lyla squealed through the phone.

“Hey, Lyla,” I said, a smile spreading on my face.

It’d been only days since I spoke with her last, but I was enjoying finding my way back to what felt like normal after so long.

“You will never believe it,” she said, and I could hear the pride in her voice through the phone.

“What?” I asked, my heart swelling with happiness.

“I looked into Briarport, since I knew you would be staying there for your case for a bit,” she said. “And they have bagel shop just like Don’s!” She practically screamed the last part into my ear.

“I will have to check it out. What’s it called?” I asked.

“Seaside Café,” she answered. “A very obvious name, if you ask me, but it looks like it is right in the center of town. Have you seen it?”

“I have not, but I promise I will report back the second I try it,” I said and meant it.

There was little I wouldn’t do for my sister. Every piece of me was dedicated to protecting her innocence, encouraging her curious mind. If she kept on the path she was on, she’d surpass me in no time.

An idea started to form in my head as I walked toward the museum. “I unfortunately have to go, but tell Mom I said hi,” I said.

“I will,” she said and hung up.

I spotted Len’s boss standing nearby as I entered.

I gave a friendly smile toward Francis, who hurried over.

“You’re the one from the other day looking for Lenore,” she said, quickly remembering who I was.

“I was,” I admitted.

“Are you back again to distract her?” she asked, raising a brow. Her tone told me she didn’t approve of me disrupting her best employee more than once.

“I’m actually in town working on a project for the FBI,” I said to Francis.

I saw the interest peak in her eyes, but she kept her face stoic. “And how can we help you with that?” she asked. “You are welcome to request any of our records.”

“The project is a little more extensive than that. I was hoping you might be able to lend me someone who is familiar with the town and its recordkeeping, someone who could help me with research outside the museum.”

“I’m not sure about that. We’re very busy,” she started.

“I completely understand. The FBI would never ask if it weren’t important.”

Her arms folded, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Once this project is finished, it’ll be national news,” I went on. “And I couldn’t think of a more worthy establishment to share credit with.”