“She risked her life to help me find the truth,” I said. “I am not leaving her.”

“If you go in, you only recon,” Vance said. “Do not engage unless you have no choice. I will meet you at the perimeter.”

“Just get here, Marcus,” I said.

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

The road to the southern inlet was narrow, bordered by dark marshes and skeletal trees.

I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out my old service pistol.

I checked the magazine, slid it back into the grip, and chambered a round.

The metallic slide clicked into place, cold and solid.

I turned off my headlights as I neared the access road.

The silhouette of the boatyard appeared through the fog.

Two large, corrugated iron buildings sat on the edge of the water.

A single patrol car was parked near the dock, its engine idling.

I parked my truck behind a row of overgrown pines and got out.

The wind off the water was freezing, carrying the smell of low tide.