Could he ask Boyd for the bail? Boyd probably had $2,000 available. But would he have to come to the island and actually post the money in person? That was a big ask. Trevor’s parents had to physically retrieve him from the jail in Canton, but he’d been underage then. Probably there was some way to pay online now. Pastor Evan would come, but Trevor couldn’t ask the church for money. Claudia could afford it. Would she say yes if he asked?

At the end of the day, Trevor and a woman his mom’s age were driven back to the jail building. Trevor wondered what the woman had done to end up there and what she was guessing about him.

The officer on duty told Trevor to wait while he took the woman upstairs. When he returned, he uncuffed Trevor and handed him a file.

“Your bail has been paid,” he said. “Take this. You’re due back in court May eleventh.”

“Who paid it?”

“Your lawyer. He’s waiting outside.”

Ridley wasn’t in the backseat of an SUV this time, but standing casually beside a white Tesla.

“Ready to go home?” he asked. “We can still catch the ferry. You’ll be at the dorm by midnight, latest.”

“I’m not getting in your car.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not going to hurt you. They know I paid your bail. I’m waving, look, I’m waving at the surveillance camera. Hello! Yes, I’m taking this young man to Manhattan. If anything happens to him, I did it.” He started walking toward the driver’s side. “Satisfied? Let’s go. I don’t want to miss the ferry.”

Trevor got in. They rode in silence to the harbor. Ridley pulled the car into the hull of the ship and parked behind an Audi.

“I’m going to get a drink. You want a drink?”

“No.”

“Fine,” said Ridley, shutting his door. “Be back here when we dock.”

Trevor waited a few minutes for Ridley to get in front of him, then took the stairs three flights up to the top deck and watched the lights of the island fade away. The air was cool and the breeze picked up as they moved. I’m on the ocean, he thought. Am I on the ocean? He took a picture of the life preserver at the prow that read MARTHA’S VINEYARD in red letters. He had a feeling he’d never be back.

Trevor returned to the Tesla as the boat backed toward shore. Ridley was already in the driver’s seat.

“Do you want to listen to something?” he asked. “It’s a good four hours to the Village. Which podcasts do you like?”

“I don’t really have time for podcasts these days,” said Trevor.