“Bring me the full logbook.

The red hardbound one, not the top sheet.”

The bottom drawer of that shack held the only paper I could prove anything with, and she was asking me to carry it out into the open.

“Ma’am, may I ask what it’s for?”

“You may not.

Fetch it.”

I went inside, worked the drawer past the rail it catches on, and lifted the red book out from under the clipboard where the brass clip still bit the board.

I set it on the table and stepped back with my hands at my sides.