Lake Montauk wasn’t even an actual lake. It used to be, back when it was called Lake Wyandanch, until a real estate developer blasted a gap on the northern slice of shore to connect the lake to the Atlantic Ocean in 1927. He dreamed of transforming the port of Montauk into the Miami Beach of the North. Instead, as Carter understood it, he went bankrupt in the Great Crash. This was the kind of shit he knew thanks to his old man, who had loved both history and the only home he knew outside of Poland, coming straight to the East End from Ellis Island to work a farm. Filip Dankowski the teenaged farmhand eventually became Philip Decker, the electrician who married a bank teller whose parents had come from Ireland. Carter was named for the man who was in the White House when he was born, not because his parents shared that President’s party or policies but because they loved being citizens of the greatest country in the world.

Lisa Robbins was still talking about the water patterns. “The current could definitely carry him from the ocean to here.”

Carter nodded. “How’d you get an ID so fast? The guy swam with a wallet?”

“The rash guard. The logo’s from Reel Deal Fishing. I pulled it up online, and there’s his picture. Sorry, but what a waste.” She held up her cell phone. He recognized the photograph as the same one Lopez’s girlfriend had provided when he took her missing person report. The “what a waste” comment clearly referred to the fact that Lopez had been an attractive man. Carter was confident enough to recognize objective facts. “Seems like a small operation. Not like Jack’s or Hot Rods or anything, but a legit outfit. I found an East Hampton Star article online announcing Lopez’s purchase of the business from the previous owner. How long’s he been missing?”

“His sort-of girlfriend filed the report Saturday, but she hadn’t talked to him since Thursday. It’s not clear they spoke on the regular, though.”

“Anything of note in your missing person investigation so far?” she asked.

An honest answer would have been “What investigation?” After taking the girlfriend’s report, he had used up some time on the clock to swing by Lopez’s business and house, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He had also run Lopez’s criminal history: a speeding ticket three months earlier for going fifty on Town Lane, which, based on what Carter knew about the officer who issued the ticket, probably had something to do with Lopez’s skin color.