Page 53 of Nightshade

“Nothing’s missing as far as I can see,” he said. “We’ve got two mains in white, the spinnaker in the red bag, and the jib in the black. Color-coded so we know which is which. Sometimes you change sails on the fly.”

Stilwell looked down into the hatch, but the contents were in shadow. He saw the colors of the bags but little detail.

“Can I pull out the jib?”

“Be my guest.”

He crouched, grabbed the black bag’s drawstring, and yanked it up onto the deck, where the lighting was better. Still crouched, he pulled out his phone and turned on its light. He ran the beam over the bag and noticed a gridwork of creases.

“This looks like a new bag,” he said. “Still has creases from being folded. Did you recently get this?”

“No,” Colbrink said. “Had that sail and the bag for years.”

Stilwell loosened the drawstring and opened the bag to reveal the folded jib sail inside. The sail was white but worn by use in the sun and wind. It was clear to him that the bag was newer than the sail. He felt a slight whisper go down his spine as he realized thathe wasn’t spinning his wheels. He had made a significant jump in the case. The woman in the water had been stuffed into a sail bag from this boat.

“The bag has been switched out,” he said, more to himself than to Colbrink.

“Okay,” Colbrink said. “What’s that mean?”

Stilwell turned his head and looked toward the front of the boat. A stainless-steel anchor was secured on rubber rollers on the prow.

“It means I want to look at your anchors,” Stilwell said. “You’ve got that one at the front. Any others on the boat?”

“Yes, we carry a stern anchor and a spare,” Colbrink said. “You’ve got to be able to securely anchor the boat. The winds off the barrier islands are formidable.”

“Different sizes of anchors?”

“No, all the same. That way they’re interchangeable.”

“Can you show me the others?”

“This way.”

Stilwell kept his phone light on as they made their way back to the stern. Colbrink stepped down into the helm, where the boat’s wheel was located. Behind the wheel was a bench with a white pad on it. Colbrink lifted the pad, revealing another storage hatch underneath. This one had no locking device. He reached down to open it.

“Hold it a second, Mr. Colbrink,” Stilwell said.

Colbrink straightened up.

“What is it?” he asked.

Stilwell was pulling a pair of disposable gloves from the pocket of his windbreaker.

“The sail bags would not have held prints,” he said. “But the lid of that compartment may. Let me open it.”

Colbrink stepped back and Stilwell opened the hatch, revealing two anchors with chains and coiled rope attached.

“Nothing missing,” Colbrink announced.

Stilwell aimed his light into the hatch. The two anchors appeared to be a match to the one that had been used to weigh down the body in the harbor. He wanted to pull them out for further examination but thought better of it. Even though the boat had recently been cleaned, there could be fingerprint evidence on the anchors.

“Do you know the weight and brand of these?” he asked.

“Twelve pounds each,” Colbrink said. “Made by a company called Hold Fast.”

Stilwell nodded and bent down farther, using his light to study the two anchors for any indication that one was new.

“Does that mean anything to you?” Colbrink asked.

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