“What are you talking about?”

“Just another person Carson screwed over. I finally realized where I know Norton from. When I saw him with that wine bottle, I remembered. Back in high school Carson used to filch booze from my folks. They found out, they hid the bottles, I lost my driving privileges—but Carson wasn’t about to give up. He found a new supplier, a guy who worked at the liquor store in town. Moonshine Phil—that’s what Carson used to call him. He thought Norton was a dumb hick and saw his chance to take advantage.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve known Norton since you were a kid?”

“I wouldn’t say I knew him. He and Carson had a business relationship. I was just the errand boy. Carson threw him a few extra bucks, Norton sold us cheap liquor through the back door—but Carson realized he could turn around and sell it to our friends at a markup. It wasn’t long before Norton’s boss found out and he got canned. Guess we know where he went to work after that.”

I felt stunned and sick to my stomach. The person Tim was describing sounded nothing like the Carson I knew. Tim’s childhood friend was manipulative and cruel. Carson couldn’t be that person now . . . could he?

“Look,” Tim said with a sigh, “I don’t expect you to side with me on this. Think whatever you want. But right now we’re working this case together, and we have to finish it.”

“I can’t.” Hike back up to the house to face that family? The idea was unbearable. I needed time to process what Tim said, to make sense of the huge warning sign he just slapped on my future. “If you want to stay, stay. I’m going home.”

“And how do you plan to do that? You don’t know how to drive the boat. You couldn’t get back in the best of weather, let alone this.”

“The thing is, Tim, I don’t need your permission. Give me the keys.”

“The hell I will.”

Again I felt along the wall for the light I knew must be there. Tim reached for my arm, and this time he caught it.

“That scene up there?” He nodded at the house and water flew from his hair in a perfect arc. “That was not okay. Pulling a weapon on a witness? Walking out on a roomful of volatile people? You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Shana, or you’re going to get us both killed.”

I was shaking so hard my teeth hurt. Tim unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off to reveal a white undershirt, and handed it to me. Robotically, I slipped in my arms and folded the shirt over my bare chest. Even sopping wet, it was warm against my skin.

“Tell me what’s going on. You owe me that. And if you still want to leave afterward,” he said, “I’ll take you back to shore myself.”