Anna's POV
I find the next piece in the back corner of the harbor bar, where I've made myself invisible for so many weeks that the crew talks over me like I'm part of the furniture.
It's a small thing, the way it's always a small thing. A shipping manifest number, dropped in a drunk complaint between two crew men about a delivery that came in wrong, and I hold it in my head all the way home and write it down the second I'm alone, and then I spend two hours in the quiet with everything else I've gathered, fitting it against the pattern, and it slots into place like it was made for the gap. Another thread traced. Another piece of the chain that ties the clean dynastic money to the drug to Cass's own door.
This is the thing I'm good at. This is the thing nobody ever credited the fish girl
