person I saw.
It’s an hour and ten minutes from my house in Wilmington to Bell Island. I drove it in fifty-five that Sunday.
I crossed the swing bridge, turned onto Sandpiper Point Road, and pulled into the crushed-shell driveway.
There was a car I didn’t recognize parked on the side of the road. A white Range Rover. But no one was in it.
I walked up the porch steps and unlocked the blue door.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. Not the usual smell of salt and
