He adjusted his rimless reading glasses before bending over the paper.

I sat across from him in the narrow study with my handbag resting against my knees.

Sophie stood at the window with her arms folded, watching the quiet street below.

“Look right here, next to the boat ramp,” Vance said.

He tapped a small glass magnifier against the corner of the photo we’d taken out of the blue envelope.

The picture was grainy, shot under the dim yellow glare of the tackle shed floodlight six years ago.

Daniel stood near the water, shoulders square, his tackle bag slung over his left arm.