The next morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the city washed clean but gray — the kind of gray that feels like it’s hiding something.

Evelyn parked her old sedan two blocks from the docks and pulled the hood of her jacket low. She hadn’t slept. Every time she’d closed her eyes, she’d seen that photograph — Hale, Victor, and three others smiling in front of the Blue Harbor container.

She’d spent most of the night researching Blue Harbor Imports. The official story said it was ...