Chapter 5: Plowright Kayak and Bait

Pelican Landing was one long wooden dock and a shop with a hand-painted sign.

I got there at six that evening, with a carry-on bag and a sunburn from the walk from the bus.

The sign said Plowright Kayak & Bait. Under it, in smaller letters: Glow tours nightly, weather permitting.

A man was hosing sand off a stack of paddles.

He was tall, with sun-streaked hair and a short brown beard, and his canvas shirt had been washed so many times it had gone the color of the dock.

"We're closed till the tour," he said, without turning around. "Eight-thirty. Bring a dry shirt."

"I'm not here for the tour."

He turned off the hose.

"Then you're lost, or you want to rent a boat. Which?"

"Neither." I took out my phone. "I want to ask you about someone."

He dried his hands on his jeans and came closer. Up close he had gray eyes and a scar through one eyebrow.

"I'm Kurt," he said. "Who's the someone?"

"Casey."

"Mine or yours?"

I almost laughed, and that surprised me.

"Mine," I said. "I'm Casey. I want to know about this woman."

I held out the screen.

It was the photo of Lindy on the wooden pier, laughing at something behind the camera.

Kurt studied it for a long time.

"That's Lindy," he said. "She's been coming here since she was a teenager."

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