“Go ahead and do that,” I say.

  It only takes a couple of minutes to confirm that the boat is not at the marina. That intensifies my worry. Since the information from the ferry agency confirmed Marcy came back to the mainland from Twilight Cove last night, she could have taken the boat then. Unless our timing is terrible and she is just on her way back from the island right now, something very serious could be happening.

  I suggest the possibility to the family, but they aren’t willing to sit around and wait for Marcy to maybe show back up.

  “We have to go out and look for her,” Clayton says. “She could still be out in the water somewhere.”

  “How are we going to look for her?” I ask. “She could be anywhere.”

  “We have to try,” Bruce says. “We have to at least try to find her.”

  “I’ll take the rowboat,” Stephanie says.

  “We’ll each rent a boat,” Clayton says. “That way we can cover more area.”

  “Dean, you ride with me,” Bruce says. “Unless you can handle a boat on your own.”

  “No, I’ll ride with you,” I say.

  Even if I could handle driving one of the boats on my own, I would prefer to be with Bruce right now. He’s worked up and upset, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be by himself while he tries to figure out what’s going on.

  “There’s a rental office right up this way,” Bruce says. “Come on.”

  We go to the office and step inside the cramped, wood-heavy storefront. To one side is a small gift shop of items that might be useful during a day on the water—such as sunscreen, snacks, and drinks—and on the other is a table set up for “honor box” purchases and boat rentals.

  “The owner just lets anyone take boats out whenever they want to just by signing their name?” I ask. “That’s a pretty massive amount of trust. I find it hard to believe anyone is still that trusting of the people around them.”

  “Things are different here in Echo Harbor,” Bruce says, almost chastising me for not having the same faith in people as the owner of the store. “Besides, the owner of this place is one of the rich eccentrics from Twilight Cove. He retired in his thirties and started this place up as a way to keep his mind occupied and indulge his love of the water. He’s not as concerned about things like theft as most people would be, I guess. But it isn’t just anyone who is allowed to use the honor box. You have to apply for a special code to access the keys, and he has a limited number of people who are permitted to have the code at any given time. Some people last summer learned the hard way that most of the time, it’s the same code for everyone, but every now and then, if he’s feeling like he needs to keep a closer eye on someone, he’ll assign them a different code. That way he can track who took things even if they don’t fill out the form or if something happens to his equipment.”

  “Seems like a good idea,” I say.

  They each step up to the counter and go through the process of renting a boat, and soon after, we are on the water, heading out. We’ve planned where each of us is going to look, with Stephanie staying closer to the shore to look around and the three of us going out further into the open water. The glimmering water of the bay seems to stretch out infinitely toward the horizon, and there’s a heavy feeling as we zip around, searching for the boat. I don’t know what to expect if we do see it, but I also know it’s possible she could have traveled far from here and we won’t find her.

  We haven’t been searching for long when I get a call from Detective Bronson.

  “Hey, Detective,” I say.

  “You said that Marcy Bassinger’s boat went missing from the family’s slip at the Echo Harbor marina?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I tell him. “And Bruce called Twilight Cove to see if it is in the slip they rent there, but it isn’t. We’re searching right now.”

  “You might want to head to Twilight Cove,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “I was just notified that police on Twilight Cove responded to a report of a boat on fire floating off the shore of the island. I think it might be Marcy’s,” he says.

  “We’ll get there as quickly as we can,” I tell him.

  “I’ll let the officers know you’re coming,” he says.

  He gives me specific instructions on how to find the location of the boat, and I get off the phone. My stomach sinks as I tell Bruce what I’ve just heard. His face drops, and his mouth opens like he intends to say something, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, his eyes closing.

  “No,” he finally says. “No. Not Marcy.”

  “We don’t know anything yet,” I tell him. “We need to go find out what’s going on. The detective is notifying the responding officers that we’re coming, so they should let us through. They aren’t going to let us near the boat, but you should hopefully be able to identify it from the shore or from the boat as close as they will allow us to get. I’ll call Clayton.”

  I make the difficult call to Clayton, who agrees to call his sister and then go pick her up so that she can ride on his boat with him rather than attempt to row to the island. We take off in the direction the detective instructed. The sun beating down on me makes the back of my neck sting, and my body feels hot despite the temperature being comfortable, even slightly cool. Bruce and I are silent, but there’s nothing to say. We’ve just got to get there.

  It turns out the boat was found off an unpopulated corner of the island, a section reserved by a resort for recreation for its guests. We are directed by the police to a small cove where we pull the boats up and walk around to where the team is clustered on the beach. The boat is visible a couple hundred yards out into the water. The curve of the island means it’s not visible as we are approaching, but now it’s blatant and gut-wrenching.

  It’s no longer in flames, but the charred shape of the boat steams and smokes as the first responders pour water down on it. They’re positioned on a boat equipped with machinery designed to pump water out of the bay and spray from their hose so they can handle just this type of situation.

  “Dean.”

  I turn to the voice and see Detective Bronson coming toward me.

  “Hey, Detective,” I say. “Good to see you.”

  “I got here as soon as I could. I wanted you to know that they’ve confirmed the boat is the Bassingers’.”

  “No!” Bruce screams out and starts running toward the water.

  I lunge and stop him, pulling him back.

  “Bruce, you can’t go near the boat. They have to handle this from here. They’ll let us know what they can as they find it out themselves, but you can’t get in the way.”

  “Get in the way?” he demands, sounding incredulous. “That’s my boat, and my wife was on it. Where is she?”

  “We don’t have answers to that yet, Mr. Bassinger,” Detective Bronson says. “But you need to listen to Dean. The officers are doing everything they can right now, and all we can do is to be patient and let them do their jobs.”

  “Dad?” Stephanie’s voice calls from behind us.

  Bruce and I turn to watch Clayton and Stephanie jogging in our direction. I’m surprised at how fast they got here, but considering the news they’d just received, I have a feeling they weren’t concerned with being reckless on the way over.

  “Dad, what’s going on?” Stephanie asks when she gets close to us. She glances over his shoulder and sees the boat. “Oh my god. What happened? What… Where’s Mom?”

  “They’re still trying to figure out what exactly happened to the boat and your mother,” I tell them. “Right now, the focus is on putting out the fire and neutralizing the danger to other boats, the people, and the island. They’re going to find out everything they can as soon as they can.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Clayton says.

  “I know,” I say. “And I’m sorry. But for now, that’s what we have to work with.”

  “Detective!”

  We look up and see an officer coming toward Detective Bronson. He leaves us and jogs toward the officer, stopping at enough distance away that we can’t hear them talking. I can see the look of extreme concern on the officer’s face, and when he finishes talking, Bronson’s expression is grave. He nods and seems to thank the officer before the younger man leaves his side. Detective Bronson comes back over to us.

  “I need you to come over here with me,” he says to Bruce, gesturing toward a picnic table owned by the resort and set up not too far away.

  “I don’t want to sit down,” he says. “I want to stand right here until I know what’s going on.”

  “Sir, I need you to come with me,” the detective says again, reaching out to put his hand near Bruce’s shoulder as if he’s going to try to guide him with just the force of his persuasion.

  “Bruce, come on,” I say.

  I walk with him over to the table, and we sit down. Bronson looks at Bruce for a few seconds, then glances over at Stephanie and Clayton, who have followed us over to the table but are standing protectively behind their father.

  “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but the officers have just informed me that there appear to be human remains on board the boat.”

  “What?” Bruce shouts, trying to push himself up from the table.

  I take him by the shoulders and ease him back down onto the bench.

  “No, no, no, no,” Clayton says, “that can’t be possible.”

  “How do they know? Could they be wrong?” Stephanie asks.

  “They have to be,” Bruce says. “They have to be wrong.”

  “Once the fire was put fully out, officers approached by boat and took a cursory look at the vessel. They say that there is what appears to be a body on the deck,” Detective Bronson says.

  “Appears to be?” Stephanie asks. “So, they aren’t sure? Maybe it’s something else?”

  “How can they not be sure?” Clayton asks angrily.

  “The condition of the possible remains is very poor,” the detective says. “They are severely burned, and right now, until we get confirmation from the coroner, they are only considered potential human remains. We will have to do testing to confirm that is what they are and then confirm the identity of the victim.”

  “Oh god,” Bruce moans, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. “No.”

  “I’m going to have to ask the family to evacuate the area,” Bronson says.

  “Excuse me?” Stephanie asks, stepping up closer to her father and putting her arm defensively around him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not leaving here until I know if that’s my Marcy,” Bruce says.

  “The investigation cannot continue properly until the area is cleared and secured. This is not a request,” Bronson says firmly. “You will need to leave the area. Go home.”

  “That’s it?” Clayton asks. “Just like that? You tell us that there could be a body on our family’s boat when our mother is missing, and then you expect us to just go home like nothing is happening?”

  “I’m sorry for the abruptness, but there’s nothing else that can be done right now. We need to secure the area and transport the potential remains. You cannot be here for that. We need you to cooperate so this investigation can move forward as quickly as possible.”

  I know that technically, there is no law stating that the remains can’t be moved while the family is still here, but I understand the motivation behind the detective wanting them to leave the area before they start the process. This isn’t a normal situation of a body being found. These remains are not only on a burned boat floating in the water, but they have also been severely burned. The appearance would be extremely traumatic for the family, and putting them through that just isn’t necessary. There is also the chance that one of them would attempt to get to the remains, which could cause a safety issue and compromise the scene. It’s better for everyone to be out of the way before that process begins.

  “When are we going to know?” Stephanie asks.

  “I will be in touch as soon as I have more information. Please be patient,” he says.

  He looks at me, and I understand the unspoken beseeching. I stand up from my place at the table.

  “Detective, I don’t think that either Clayton or Bruce are in a mind space where they should be operating boats out on the water. They both have rentals. Is there any way officers could give us a ride back to the mainland?”

  “Absolutely,” the detective says. “I’ll go make arrangements and will be right back.”

  “Thank you,” Bruce says when he walks away. “I’m shaking so hard right now and can’t think straight for anything.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’m so sorry,” I say.

  “But they said ‘potential,’” Clayton points out. “Just ‘potential.’ Doesn’t that mean that there’s a chance they’re wrong?”

  “Son,” Bruce says.

  That was it. Nothing else. But it spoke far more than just that single word.

  We finally make it back to the marina, and Bruce, Clayton, and Stephanie confirm they feel like they can make the drive back to Bruce’s house. They don’t want to be alone, and the children say that they will stay with their father for at least the night as they all try to cope with what just happened. I do my best to comfort them, but it becomes obvious they just want to be away from everyone and everything, back in their own environment, where they can just be with each other. We part ways, and I drive back to the hotel shaken and in disbelief.

  Xavier is still in my room when I let myself in. He’s lounged on one of the beds flipping through channels on the TV, trying to find something to entertain him. He turns it off and tosses the remote to the side when I walk in.

  “Thank goodness,” he says. “I’m starving. Can we order something?”

  “Sure, buddy,” I say and go for the menus in the drawer we discovered when we first checked in.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “What happened? Did you find Marcy?”

  “Possibly, but not in the way any of us wanted to,” I tell him. “The boat was found on fire off the shore of Twilight Cove. When they put the flames out, officers found what they think is a body on the deck.”

  “Oh no,” Xavier says. “Do they know what happened?”

  “Right now they don’t even want to say that it really is a body,” I say. “It’s burned so badly they can’t really be positive, but I can’t imagine it’s anything else. I didn’t see it. Detective Bronson was there, and he made all of us leave before they started transporting the body so that the family wouldn’t have a chance to see it.”

  “That was a good idea,” he says. “That’s something that will never leave you.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I tell him. “What do you want to order?”

  I don’t realize how late in the afternoon it’s getting. After the parade was cut short, the rest of the day snowballed into even more chaos, and I haven’t had a chance to stop. I realize we haven’t eaten anything since our hotel breakfast early this morning. We’re perusing the menus, trying to pick something that sounds good, when Celeste calls.

  “Hey,” I answer. “How are you doing? I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Things with my case just went haywire, and I have been on the go pretty much since I left you.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” she asks.

  “I don’t know what’s being released to the media, so please don’t share this with anyone,” I say. “Did you hear that a boat was reported burning off the shore of the island?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Near the resort.”

  “That boat belonged to my client,” I say. “And it’s probable she was on board,” I say as tastefully as I can, without referencing the remains again. I don’t want to push her any further than she already has been today with witnessing Scott Russo’s brutal condition.

  “That’s horrible,” she says. “I’m so sorry for them.”

  “I am too,” I say.

  “Now I feel pretty awful for calling,” she says. “But I wanted to let you know that Joseph Palmer is contacting everyone and letting them know that the party is still on for tonight.”

  “The party is still going on?” I ask incredulously. “They are still going to have big Mardi Gras parties, even though the king of the parade was found dead on the float in the parade this morning?”

  “He says that he’s doing it for Scott. It’s what he would want. I think Joseph is looking at it as a second line in a way. I didn’t think that I would even imagine wanting to do anything after today, but now it sounds like exactly what I need. I don’t want to just sit at home alone thinking about what happened this morning. I think everybody needs to get together and have a good time and remember Scott. Like I told you, I didn’t know him well at all, but I feel like anyone who would be the king of the Mardi Gras parade would want that,” she says. “I wanted to tell you so that maybe you would still come with me.”

  “I don’t think so, Celeste,” I say. “I really appreciate you calling, but I don’t think that I’m up for something like that tonight. Not with everything that’s happening with this case and everything else. I think I’m just going to go ahead and call this holiday over.”

  “I understand,” she says with a sigh, sounding disappointed but resigned. “If by any chance you change your mind, just call me, and I’ll give you directions.”

  “All right,” I tell you. “You have fun.”

  “I’m going to try to,” she says. “It seems like the only thing to do right now. Have fun being alive, or wallow thinking about Scott Russo. I don’t think I could handle wallowing tonight.”

  We get off the phone, and I look at Xavier.

  “They’re still having the party at Joseph Palmer’s house,” I say. “Even after Scott Russo being found dead on the float this morning. Celeste says Joseph Palmer is looking at it as a way to honor Russo. She called it a second line. I’m not sure what she meant by that.”

  “A second line is a funeral procession in New Orleans,” Xavier tells me. “Remember, she said that Palmer has a fascination with New Orleans. He would likely want to do something that fits with the culture of the holiday and celebrate Russo’s life. The funeral procession in a second line usually has a jazz band and people dancing. It’s a celebration of life and going home rather than being a somber acknowledgment of death and the person being gone. It can be a very joyous occasion, even in the sadness.”