“Then no. I never found him.”

“Yeah,” said Maya. “Well. I did.”

Chapter 13 — Sanderling

Sanderling, Maryland, is ninety minutes and one bridge from Washington, and it is a marina, a hardware store, a Methodist church, and about four hundred people.

Maya gave me a channel, not an address. It took me eleven days to work it, which I think was the point — I think it was a test, and I think it had been sitting there for a decade waiting for me to be the kind of person who would run it patiently instead of kicking the door.

The shop is called Harper Marine, which is either arrogance or exhaustion, and I have never decided which.

He was under a boat.