They mayor’s office was tucked into the back of the rec hall, one of the more sprawling buildings on the island. The venue had been the host to weddings, school dances, graduations—almost any and all events that needed space to accommodate a good chunk of the population. But when the place wasn’t being used for a celebration, it was a wide-open basketball court.

Mia’s and Izzy’s boots clicked against the polished wood as they crossed toward where a door was marked MAYOR CASH BISHOP.

A slip of a woman sat behind the scarred oak desk in the little waiting room, her light brown hair pulled tight back into a severe bun, gold-rimmed glasses perched on a small, upturned nose. She was so indistinct in appearance that she all but disappeared into the rose-patterned wallpaper behind her.

She hadn’t changed much since high school.

“Dot, right?” Mia asked. She used to be Dorothy Sherman, though the ring on her hand hinted that might be outdated information. Dot had been a year older than Mia and the rest of them, which normally wouldn’t have made a difference to whether they’d hung out. But Dot had never been friendly. Not mean, either. Just more interested in books than people.

“Hi, Mia.” The frostiness in the greeting had Mia reconsidering that impression.

“Is Cash in? We’d like to ask him a few questions.”

“He’s on a phone call right now. You’ll have to wait.” Dot gestured toward the cushioned chairs. And, yes, she was definitely not pleased with Mia.

“I take it you two weren’t friends,” Izzy muttered as they settled in next to a tableful of tattered Us Weeklys and People magazines, all with movie stars who were big about five years earlier.

“Actually, no. But I wouldn’t have said we didn’t like each other.” Although, who knew anymore.

As a detective who worked primarily on cold cases, she knew recall was a crapshoot in the best situations. People put a lot more faith in what they supposedly remembered, thinking of it as verbatim what happened. But that’s not how it worked. Where there were gaps, the brain took a best guess: emotions twisted events; random details like a certain smell stayed while other major ones faded away. And all that was if you actually wanted to remember something.

Mia, on the other hand, had spent more than fifteen years desperately trying to forget.

Dot had disappeared into Cash’s office, presumably to inform him they were waiting, but was now back, her attention almost compulsively on her computer screen.