A single bare bulb hung from the wooden ceiling beam, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.

Paige was sitting on an overturned wooden crate near the workbench, using a small brass sharpener to point a green drafting pencil over an empty coffee can.

Caroline pushed open the heavy wooden door, shaking the water from her wool coat.

“Did you get to talk to the fish market owner?” Paige asked, setting her pencil down on the bench.

Caroline walked over to the workbench, reached into her coat pocket, and laid the four fifty-dollar bills on the unpainted wood right next to her yellow tape measure.