She stepped into the room, and the others were quick to follow. Like Mia, Izzy was captivated by the little messages tacked to the walls. Sammy and Cash made their way toward Earl’s body. They were all quiet, tense.

The handwriting on the Post-its revealed varying stages of dementia. Some had neat block lettering, the exact type Mia would have expected from Earl Bishop. Others were a scrawled jumble of letters that might have made sense only to him.

“Wild,” Izzy said.

Mia nodded once, to show she’d heard, and then stepped toward Sammy. “Can you check for defensive injuries when you do your report?” It was strange having to ask one of their suspects to examine the body. But that’s how life was on St. Lucy’s. They had one coroner, and they had to follow procedure. They had nothing on Sammy other than an overheard phone call and reports of him being a distant boyfriend.

Sammy lifted a brow. “Course, Detective.”

It was doubtful he’d find anything. If it had been foul play, it hadn’t required strength. Just access. And considering few, if any, residents on St. Lucy’s locked their doors, that wouldn’t be hard, either. Someone could have easily come in at night and overpowered a sleeping, disoriented Earl Bishop without leaving any signs of struggle behind.

“Wish we had a tech team,” Izzy said, her hands on her hips, doing a slow sweep of the room.

Everything was so much harder here. A weariness settled into Mia, achy and sore, dragging on her lashes. When she opened her eyes, it was to find Izzy watching her, her head tilted.

“Yeah,” Mia said, and with the way Izzy’s lips pressed together, she thought she might have been late on the reply. How long had she slipped behind the darkness of her lids? It had seemed like only a blink, maybe a second longer.

But time had become a funny thing.

Izzy studied her a minute longer. “Are you okay?”

Mia nodded. “Yes. Just tired.”

“Sleep helps with that.”

“Oh, really? Never heard of that, should give it a try.” Mia softened the sting of the words with a small smile as she walked away toward the far wall.

While there wasn’t a coherency to the arrangement of the notes at first glance, the most important daily ones were close to the headboard.

Keys. Wallet. Glasses. Earl Bishop. St. Lucy’s Island, Maine. Tess died 11/4/2014.

Tess had been Cash’s mother, whom Mia had only a fleeting memory of despite the amount of time Mia had spent in and out of the Bishops’ house. She’d been a wisp of a woman, slight and pale and reserved. Mama had mentioned her passing, briefly. Cancer, if Mia recalled correctly.