What Washes Up by Dawn Lee McKenna

and she shrugged. “On my good days.”
    “Was David a good father?”
    Maggie felt a clenching in her chest. “Yes. Very good.”
    “Even though he started running pot?” Boudreaux said it without judgment in his voice.
    “Yes.”
    “But you couldn’t stay married to him.”
    It took Maggie a moment to answer, to admit to something she’d like to take back. “No.”
    Boudreaux was quiet for a moment, watched the road. “I hope he was able to redeem himself somewhat in your eyes,” he said quietly.
    Maggie looked down at the warm can of RC in the console. “Yes. He was.”
    “Redemption is elusive,” he said.
    Maggie started to say something, but her phone buzzed again. It was Wyatt. She took a deep breath and answered.
    “Hey,” she said.
    “Hey. Where are you?”
    “I’m, uh, on my way back to town.”
    “From where?”
    “Chipley.”
    “Never heard of it,” Wyatt answered.
    “Neither have most of the people who live there,” she said.
    “What were you doing in Chipley?”
    “Checking out Boudreaux’s farm,” she said.
    “Huh,” Wyatt said after a moment. “I’m wondering how you’re traveling, because your Jeep is here at Boss. I’d appreciate it if you said by spaceship.”
    “No.” Maggie bit the corner of her lip. “I’m with Boudreaux.”
    There was a long pause on the line and Maggie grew more nervous as she waited.
    “Well then,” Wyatt finally said. “That’s just Jim damn Dandy.”
    Maggie looked at her phone and saw that he had indeed hung up on her. She dropped it back onto her lap and sighed.
    “That didn’t sound like it went over too well,” Boudreaux said.
    “No.” Maggie looked out of her window at the unrelenting miles of tall, skinny scrub pines. “But he was already upset with me.”
    “I guess you told him about Gregory and Sport.”
    “Yes.”
    “And me.” Boudreaux said it matter-of-factly.
    “Yes.” Maggie sighed. “Wyatt wasn’t exactly happy about me keeping so many things to myself.”
    “We men aren’t that fond of finding out that we don’t know as much as we believe we know.”
    “Professionally, he had every right to know.”
    “I agree. But I’m willing to bet that he’s more upset personally than professionally.”
    “I don’t know,” Maggie said. “Secrecy’s kind of a new thing for me. With that one exception.”
    She was afraid that would lead to more discussion of Gregory. Or of David, and she didn’t have the heart for either topic. She looked over at Boudreaux. “What about you? Do you keep secrets from your wife?”
    “No,” he said smoothly, watching the road. “She knows that I can’t stand her.”

    They got back to the parking lot at Boss Oyster a little before six, and Boudreaux pulled in next to Maggie’s Jeep. She got out, and looked at Boudreaux through the open window.
    “Thank you for coming with me,” he said, sounding tired.
    Maggie nodded, then glanced over at a local couple coming out of the raw bar. They looked over at her, and Maggie felt her career and her reputation taking their last breaths. She was almost too drained to care.
    “Goodnight, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said.
    “Goodnight, Maggie.”
    Maggie got in her Jeep and watched Boudreaux back out, then she looked around at the parking lot. She had almost hoped that Wyatt’s car would be there, but it wasn’t.
    She sat for a minute, gathering her nerve, then pulled out her cell and dialed Wyatt’s number. He answered on the first ring.
    “Hey,” he said.
    “Hey,” Maggie said. “I know you’re angry with me and you probably don’t feel like talking to me right now, but we could we please? Anyway?”
    “We need to do that, yes,” he answered.
    “Thank you,” she said. “What are you doing right now?”
    She heard Wyatt sigh.
    “I’m sitting on the steps with Stoopid,” he answered.

    When Maggie pulled up in front of her house ten minutes later, Stoopid had apparently become bored with Wyatt. Coco had not. She was standing