After lunch on the stern, Mia took the boat out of the cove and turned southeast, running through the passage between Long and Peaks islands. Brandon sat with Lily on the settee on the starboard side, pointed out seals popping up and watching the boat pass. “Oh, they’re so cute,” Lily said. “They’re like little puppies.”

Boats were motoring through the passage, a pretty Hinckley sloop, a couple of teenage boys on a Grady-White. They waved and Lily waved back, seemed to be regaining her strength. Mia looked at Brandon and nodded toward Lily, looking at the Victorian cottages on the north side of Peaks. “Winston would so love this,” she said.

Brandon nodded to Mia, said, “Lily, want to take the helm?”

“Drive the boat?” she said. “If you’re sure I won’t crash into a rock or something.”

They ran out to the buoy east of Peaks and swung southwest. Lily went to the helm and took the wheel, peering seriously out at the sea. It was rougher here, out on the bay, and Bay Witch rode the swells, the motor rumbling, louder as the bow fell and the stern rose. Mia showed Lily the compass, told her to keep it at about 210 southwest. Lily stared at the compass intently, jiggling the wheel.

“You can still look out,” Mia said, and she looked to Brandon and winked.

They had Lily throttle back south of the island, turn west to thread their way through Peaks and Cushings, north of House, and then west toward Portland Harbor. Mia told Lily about the buoys, “red right returning, green right going.” Lily repeated it over and over, then clutched the wheel tightly as they navigated the passage. When a ferry appeared, crossing their bow, headed into Peaks, Lily said, “Oh my gosh, you take it,” and Mia did. Lily sat with Brandon and smiled.

“How did I do?” she said.

“Just fine,” Brandon said.

Lily looked at him, smiled, and said, “Thank you for this,” and gave his arm a pat that ended with a squeeze.

Mia brought the boat into the marina, feathering the engines to back into the slip. Brandon hopped off and tied up, gave her a thumbs-up. Every time was smoother, and now Brandon trusted her to take Bay Witch most places he would. During the day, not at night. Nighttime on the water, like on land, could be dangerous.

Lily came to the stern while Mia was still up on the helm. She stepped off onto the dock and stood.

“So how are things with you, Brandon?” Lily said. “I feel like we spent the whole day talking about me.”

“Understandable,” Brandon said.

“Thanks for being there for us.”

“Anytime. Except I hope there isn’t another one.”

“God forbid,” Lily said. “To go through this twice. But you could, couldn’t you, with what you do.”

“Occupational hazard—even though some cops go a whole career without even firing their gun.”

They stood for a moment, could see Mia up top, putting things away.

“What’s happening with the baby?” Lily said.

“Nothing good. The mom’s dead, no sign of the kid. Stopped at the building last night, and the Sudanese family is thinking of moving out. Say the place is haunted. The baby’s ghost.”

“Africans are superstitious,” Lily said. “Even Winston. He takes all that stuff very seriously. Duppies, they call them.”

“I’ve heard of that.”

“Yeah, they’re afraid of them. A dead person’s shadow or something. If a duppy touches you, or even breathes on you, you get sick.”

“But I thought duppies were Jamaican,” Brandon said.

“It must be in Barbados, too,” Lily said. “Winston talks about them, and he’s never even been to Jamaica.”

“Really?”

“No. I guess they don’t even like each other. Jamaicans think Barbadians are uppity. Or maybe it’s the other way around.”

“So he won’t go there?”

“I don’t know about that. But I think when he decided to leave Barbados, he didn’t want to just go to another island.”

“Where did he go?”

“Canada. A lot of Barbadians in Canada.”

“Jamaicans, too,” Brandon said. “Big posses. You know, criminal gangs. In Toronto they run the drug trade.”

“You do know a lot of random stuff, Brandon Blake,” Lily said.

They stood, heard Mia coming down the ladder.

“So, this duppy thing,” Lily said. “If that’s true, would that mean the baby is dead, too?”

“I suppose so,” Brandon said. “Can’t be a shadow of someone if they’re still alive.”

Brandon had to be at the PD at 5 p.m. to start his shift. Lily was asleep in the forward cabin, finally able to wind down. Mia had gone to unlock the gas dock for the Aldens in their motorsailer and now she was on the foredeck, a legal pad on her lap, laptop beside her.

“I’m going,” he said, coming around the side deck, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“She’s better, don’t you think?” Mia whispered.

“Seems okay. Is she staying tonight?”

“Winston, too, I think. Is that okay?”

“Sure. But they’re going to have to go home sometime.”

“I think there’s still blood.”

“Crime-scene people are done by now,” Brandon said. “So they should have it cleaned up and get on with their lives.”

“Getting back on the horse?” Mia said.

“Something like that.”

“It took us a while, remember?”

“I do,” Brandon said.

Mia’s nightmares. Whimpering beside him until he’d finally reach over to wake her, save her once again. For Brandon, the dreams lasted a couple of weeks. Mia still had them, but only once or twice a month. Her fear of small, closed spaces lingered.

He kissed her again. She squeezed his hand, held it a little longer than usual.

“You stopping to see Nessa?”

“Yes.”

“Give her my love,” Mia said.

“I will.”

“Are we okay?” Mia said.

“I am. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound sure,” Brandon said.

“It just brings it all back,” Mia said.

“Yeah, it does.”

“That, plus everything else.”

“I know,” Brandon said.

“Well, be careful, baby.”

“Always.” Brandon said.