“Oh, that's just terrific,” said my mother. She was not normally a sarcastic person, but she could be brutal when she was. “I'll go pack your suitcase for state prison,” she said to Dad. “Will they let you bring your own pajamas?”

“Donna, please. There's no time to argue.”

“Oh, really? Our little girl is roaming around alone in the dead of night, and meanwhile you've tripped off some fugitive alarm at the sheriff's station, and any minute a dozen squad cars with screaming sirens will be racing down our street-”

“I'll go get Abbey by myself,” I volunteered. “Don't worry, Mom, I can handle it.”

“No, we'll go together. All three of us,” she declared. “And if we get into a jam, I want both of you wise guys to keep your lips zipped and let me do the talking. Is that understood?”

My father and I glanced helplessly at each other. There was no point in objecting.

“Noah, get a can of bug spray out of the pantry,” Mom said. “And, Paine, could you please go find my car keys?”

Mom drove, both hands on the wheel. She stuck to the speed limit because she didn't want the police to pull us over and find my father in the car.

When she turned down the road to the marina, Dad leaned out the passenger window and began shining the spotlight through the mangroves, in case Abbey was hiding there. He lit up a family of raccoons and a grouchy blue heron, but there was no sign of my sister.

We were more than a hundred yards from the docks when Mom stopped the car. I suggested that we split up and start searching, but Dad said no way, it was too risky. We got out of the car and together headed toward the boats.

Every so often my mother would call out Abbey's name while Dad probed the shadows with the spotlight. As we approached the marina, I could see that the Coral Queen was dark, though a light shone in the ticket shack at the foot of the dock. I put a finger to my lips, signaling for my parents to stay quiet. Parked by one of the lampposts was Dusty Muleman's long black SUV.

We huddled in the shadow of the broken sewage tank. Dad had snatched a rusty gaff from a dock box near one of the charter boats, and I could tell by the sound of his breathing that he was agitated and pumped up. Mom, however, remained calm.

Dad said, “You two stay here. I'll go scope it out.”

“You'll do no such thing,” my mother told him. “Tonight we're a team.”

Dad started to argue, but then he stopped and cocked his head to listen. I heard it, too-a man's laughter, coming from inside the ticket office.

“What if he's got Abbey?” I whispered anxiously.

“Then we'll politely ask him to give her back,” Mom said. “And if that doesn't work, we'll try something else. Come on.”

My mother only weighs 110 pounds, but she doesn't think small. She walked up to the shack and rapped on the door and didn't wait for it to be opened-she just barged in. Dad and I were right behind her.

“Why, look who's here!” said Dusty Muleman, hanging up the phone.

He was sitting under a bare light bulb at a wobbly card table. Piled in front of him were stacks of cash and tally sheets from the gambling boat.

Mom said, “Dusty, I apologize for the interruption but this is very important.”

“No problem, Donna.” He looked highly amused by the sight of us.

“Have you seen Abbey tonight?” my mother asked.

“Abbey? What would she be doing hangin' around this place?” Dusty scoffed.

Dad started edging forward with the tarpon gaff, which wasn't good.

“She went looking for pilchards,” I piped up. Sometimes the boat basins were loaded with little fish, which Dusty Muleman knew for a fact. “We're supposed to go fishing tomorrow and she decided to catch her own bait.”

Dusty didn't fall for my story. “Abbey ain't much bigger'n a pilchard herself. I'd sure like to see how she throws a net,” he said. “What's she doing out so late, anyway? Most little girls would've been tucked in beddy-bye a long time ago.”

“Have you seen her?” Mom asked again. “We're getting worried.”

“Nope.” Dusty was wearing a baggy, fruit-colored shirt that was decorated with palm trees. A fat soggy cigar wagged in the corner of his downturned mouth. Fortunately it wasn't lit; otherwise we would have gagged on the smoke in that closet-sized room.

“Let me check with Luno,” he said, and spoke gruffly into a walkie-talkie. Then he looked up and addressed my father: “Paine, I'm a little surprised to see you out and about. The sheriff told me you were under house arrest.”

“I was,” Dad said, “until my daughter went missing.”

His jaw was set and his shoulders were bunched. He was wound up as tight as a spring, and I thought that any second he might pounce on Dusty Muleman, who was smaller and flabbier.

Mom must have been thinking the same thing. She snatched the sharp gaff from my father's hand and carefully placed it upright in a corner.

“Dusty, listen,” she said. “Paine's got something he wants to say.”

“I do?” Dad said.

“Yes, you do. Remember?” my mother replied pointedly. “You wanted to apologize for what happened to the Coral Queen.”

I burst out coughing like I was having a seizure. I couldn't help it.

“Apologize?” my father said numbly.

“Yes, Paine, we had this discussion the other night.” Mom's tone was pleasant but determined. “You and Dusty have known each other too long to let this kind of situation get out of control.”

“Donna's right,” Dusty said. “All those years we fished out of Ted's, we never had a problem.”

Dad was steaming, but there wasn't much he could do. Dusty had promised to drop the criminal charges only if Dad agreed to behave. Mom must have figured that this was as good a time as any for Dad to start acting remorseful, even if he didn't mean it.

“Fine,” my father said stiffly. “I'm sorry for sinking your boat.”

“Apology accepted.” Dusty smacked on the cigar, and his shifty gray eyes swung to me. “Son, I heard from Jasper Jr. that you've been givin' him a hard time.”

“You're kidding, right?” I said.

Dusty shook his head. Dad looked at me curiously.

“No, it's the other way around,” I started to protest. “He and Bull…”

“He and Bull what?” asked Dad.

“Nothing.”

“Noah, what's going on?” my mother said, like she'd already forgotten about my black eye. I figured she just didn't want to stir up more trouble, with Abbey missing and Dad's future freedom in Dusty Muleman's hands.

Still, I had to bite back the urge to tell everything that had really happened between me and Jasper Jr. Dusty was clearly enjoying himself at my expense. He knew the truth, too. I could see by the way he smirked.

“I know it's gettin' more and more like Miami down here,” he said, “but a boy still ought to be able to go fishin' without having to fight his way home. Don't you folks agree?”

“Absolutely,” said my mother, although this time I detected a slight chill in her voice. When she glanced at me, I knew that she didn't believe a word Dusty Muleman was saying.

I also understood that she expected me to suck up my pride and do what was best for the family, as my father had done.

“Tell Jasper Jr. it won't happen again,” I said to Dusty.

“That's the spirit.” He gave me a gloating wink.

The door swung open and Luno appeared. Up close the man was even taller and uglier than I remembered. His slick bald dome glowed pink in the pale light, and his smile was as crooked as his nose. A swatch of dirty-looking gauze was taped on one of his branch-sized forearms, probably where my sister had chomped him. In one hand he carried a walkie-talkie like Dusty's; in the other hand was a half-empty bottle of beer.

“What's up, chief?” he said to Dusty.

“You seen a young girl hanging around the docks tonight?”