Nine
Sunday, December 19
Coxen Hole, Roatan
Eva woke to knocking at her door and the gray light of dawn glowing through her windows. She sat up, realizing she had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for her mother to come home from her date with Mel. She never had. She must have stayed the night on the Dolorosa with him.
Eva went to the door and looked out the peephole. Víctor, the police chief, stood there in uniform, a serious look on his face.
Eva opened the inner door but left the screen door closed and locked. “What do you want, Víctor?”
Víctor took off his hat and held it in his pudgy hands. “Eva, a boat washed ashore. I thought you might want to take a look.”
Eva crossed her arms. “You’re supposed to have a deal with my boss not to bother me. Call the coroner from the ma
