“Sorry, I’ve gotta stick with Ava on this one,” Letty said. “It’s your senior year. You’ve still got prom and all the graduation stuff. You don’t want to miss any of that. New York will still be there this summer. And if you still want to come, you know we’d love to have you visit.”

“I guess we know who won’t be visiting,” the teenager quipped.

Letty sighed and went into the bathroom, pretending to check for anything left behind.

“He still hasn’t called, has he?” Isabelle asked.

“No. Not since I told him when we’d be leaving.”

“He’s my brother, and I love him, but he’s such a dumbass butthead,” Isabelle said. “I don’t get why he’s acting like this. If he loves you, and we both know he does, he should understand why you’ve got to go back to New York.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Letty said. She opened the closet and closed it, then went out to the patio for one final look at the beach. She found a thumbnail-size scallop shell that Maya had left there to dry, brushed off the sand, and tucked it in her pocket. A remembrance.

“Guess we’d better get moving if we’re going to make our flight on time,” Letty said, picking up her purse and her cell phone. “I know it’s early, but sometimes traffic gets stopped on the bridge over to Tampa.” She glanced at the phone screen for the tenth time in an hour, wondering if Joe would call, or text.

She hadn’t seen him in two days, since she and Maya sat down in a conference room at the police station with Vikki Hill, so Maya could give a formal, videotaped statement about what she’d witnessed the afternoon of Tanya’s murder. Joe had been in the room, of course, and though he’d been warm and solicitous with Maya, he’d been aloof, almost ignoring Letty’s presence during the process, allowing Vikki to conduct most of the interview.

Isabelle glanced down at her own phone. “Hey. Mom just texted to say she and Maya had to go over to the rec hall. I think there’s something going on with the air-conditioning thermostat.” She reached for Letty’s suitcase. “I’ll just stick this in the car and meet you over there.”

The motel was surprisingly quiet for a Friday morning. It was the first week of April. Several of the snowbirds had already departed to head back north, and the Murmuring Surf’s reservation system was filling up with bookings for young families who’d be checking in for spring break and early summer stays.