Kylie sat at her mom’s small kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate with little tiny marshmallows. When she’d been young, she’d had to drag a chair over from the table to climb up onto her grandpa’s cabinets to reach the box of prepackaged powder. He’d kept it hidden from her because she’d had no self-control, loving how she always felt like Wonder Woman when all the sugar hit her system.

But her mom didn’t hide the stuff and Kylie was on her third cup.

Wonder Woman still hadn’t shown up.

But an entire volume of doubts had. When push had come to shove and Joe believed he’d had a viable suspect, he’d planned to handle it without her. He would’ve left her behind, when only days ago he’d promised to never leave her behind. “Men suck,” she said.

“Yeah, they do.” Her mom came to sit at the table with her, carrying her own cup of hot chocolate. Or more accurately, rum with a dab of hot chocolate. “Men always suck. You sure you don’t need a kick?” She held up a flask.

“I’m sure,” Kylie said. Her mom had a lifelong history with men sucking. Not that the woman had ever refrained from men, of course. In the old days, she’d visit Kylie at her grandpa’s, dote on her for a while, or at least until another man came along, and then poof, she’d be gone.

Logically, Kylie knew she was angry at Joe because he was giving her bad flashbacks to her past. To when her mom hadn’t ever put any weight into who Kylie was, wanting so much more from her life than to be a mom in the first place.

It’d been excusable when her mom had been a very young teen mom, but the pattern had been set and kept. She’d always chosen men over her daughter.

And in turn, she’d chosen men who chose work over her.

Maybe Kylie was overreacting. Okay, so she was definitely overreacting. All Joe was trying to do was keep her safe. She got that. She really did. But emotions like hurt and frustration didn’t respond to common sense. The bottom line was that this wasn’t a simple misunderstanding between them. They saw the world differently. A man like Joe would always be able to set her aside for something else. And she’d had enough of that for a lifetime. She deserved better. She needed to move on and get it for herself.

The funny—and sad—thing was, out of all the ways she’d thought their relationship would come to an end, this hadn’t even been in the realm of possibilities, her realizing that she loved him and also that he wasn’t the One for her. With her chest far too tight, she downed the rest of her hot chocolate, beginning to rethink her no-rum stance.

“So are you ever going to tell me what brings you here at . . .” Her mom glanced at the clock on the range. “Four thirty-eight in the morning? I’m not buying that it’s because you got hurt by some guy. You’ve never been all that invested in the opposite sex, certainly not enough to let one get to you.”

Ha. That was a good one. But she shoved that deep because that had nothing to do with why she was here. The thing was, she wasn’t stupid. No matter that Joe didn’t trust her to use her brain, she knew better than to go after Kevin on her own. She’d never do that.

But she wanted answers and her mom might be the one who could give them to her. “It’s complicated,” she started.

Her mom smiled. “Kylie, honey, everything with you is.”

Kylie sighed and told herself not to get mad. She was here for answers, not a fight. And anyway, she supposed she could be a little complicated.

“It’s just that you seem . . . sad.” Her mom’s eyes were surprisingly free of cynicism. “Are you?” she asked. “Sad?”

Well, that was one word for what Kylie felt. Devastated was another. “Do you remember Kevin Baker?” she asked.

Her mom scrunched up her forehead. “Kevin . . . yeah, sure. He was the one who was a good cook, right? Always making pancakes in the morning. You loved his pancakes.”

Kylie had indeed loved Kevin’s pancakes. He’d let her sit on the counter and stir the batter. “It’s possible he might have my penguin,” she said.

“What penguin?”

“Remember grandpa’s carvings?”

“Oh, yeah.” Her mom went brows up. “You still have one of them?”

“Had,” Kylie said. “Someone stole it and then started sending me pictures of it, saying I couldn’t have it back unless I authenticated two pieces as Grandpa’s.”

Her mom frowned. “But I thought everything went up in flames in the fire.”

“I thought so too, but one of the pieces looks legit. The other looks like a forgery.”

“Then why would someone want you to authenticate it—” She broke off. “Oh,” she breathed. “Someone’s got a scam cooking. Wow. It’s kind of brilliant.” She caught Kylie’s expression. “And wrong,” she added. “Very wrong. You think it might be Kevin?”

“I don’t want to think it, but there’s some evidence that puts him on the radar, so I want to talk to him.”

“What kind of evidence?” her mom asked.

“He took a piece to Eric Hansen, one of Grandpa’s apprentices, and tried to sell it as his own. Later, he moved on to claiming the work was Grandpa’s.”

“Are you kidding me? That little piece of shit.” Her mom stood up and grabbed her purse and keys.

“Wait,” Kylie said, following her to the door. “Mom, what are you doing?”

“Going to pay Kevin a visit. If anyone’s going to make money off my dad’s talents, it’s going to be us.”

“No. Mom, you can’t just—”

But her mom was out the door.

Kylie ran after her and caught up just as she was getting into her car. Kylie jumped into the passenger seat. “Mom, seriously. You can’t—”

“I’m going to straighten this out. No one rips off a Masters.”

Kylie held on as they catapulted out into the street. “Do you even know where Kevin lives?”

“Yes.”

“But you broke up years ago.”

“He lives on his uncle’s boat. The old man died before I ever even met Kevin. Trust me, he’s not moving from that boat until he’s dead and buried.”

“Okay, stop,” Kylie said. “Turn around. We need to go home. There are other people handling this. The authorities can—”

“The authorities have never helped me out a day in my life. Don’t fool yourself, Kylie. We’re on our own.” She pulled into the marina parking lot, which was dark. Very dark. It was getting close to dawn, but the day wasn’t going to come with much light. The sky was heavy with an incoming storm.

This wasn’t good. In fact, this was bad. Very very bad. Kylie pulled out her phone to call Joe, but she had no service. “Mom, check your phone. Do you have any reception?”

Her mom pulled hers from her purse. “One bar. Not enough for shit.”

“Which mean you’ve got to stop because we can’t call for backup. We’re not going to be the stupid chicks in the horror flicks, okay? So just pull back out onto the street and keep driving until we get cell service, and then we’ll—”

“This first,” her mom said. “I just want to ask him some questions, no big deal. Wait in the car if that makes you feel better. I’ll be right back.” She pulled the car up to the shadows at the edge of the parking lot and hopped out of her still running car.

“Mom—”

But she was gone, heading for the docks.

Dammit. Kylie crawled over the console, into the driver’s seat, and drove through the lot, one eye on her phone. She didn’t want to leave her mom but she had to call Joe. When one bar finally appeared, she nearly collapsed in relief. It wasn’t enough for a call, but she thought maybe she could get a text out. “Siri,” she said, eyes on the spot where her mom had vanished. “Text Joe. I’m at the marina with my mom, who’s gone in to talk to Kevin. Send.” She tossed her phone down, drove closer to the maze of docks, parked, and went after her mom. Maybe the woman hadn’t been all that great a maternal figure, but she was still the only one Kylie had. There was no way she could just sit in the car and wait for help.

She tried to stay in the shadows as she headed to the dock. Once there, she was out in the open, but the sky was still dark and there were no lights. Stymied by the huge maze of docks, Kylie slowed to listen but couldn’t hear a thing except for the water slapping up against the pylons. “Mom?”

No answer, but she thought she could hear the clicking of her mom’s sandals to the right, so she turned that way and nearly groaned at the amount of boats.

An entire row of them, as far as the eye could see.

But only one had an interior light on. Kylie headed that way, her stomach filled with dread. She so did not feel good about this. After creeping closer to the lone boat with the light, she hid behind a pylon and peered into one of the windows.

The interior of the boat was tight quarters, jam-packed with . . . wood furniture. She crept closer to get a better look and froze. Most of the pieces were cookie-cutter pieces, a stack of the same headboards, another of identical nightstands, but mixed in were a few other things, such as a table that looked an awful lot like the one in the picture she’d received. Another was a unique grandfather clock that she recognized from her grandpa’s shop. The shop where everything had supposedly burned.