There was a pause.
"Captain," Shuford said. "Sit down a minute. Please."
Ozro looked at the dock box and at the sergeant, and then, to Claudine's astonishment, sat down on it. He put his cane between his knees and both hands on the head of it, and breathed.
"Pursed lips," Claudine said. "Like I showed you. In through the nose. Out like you're blowing out a candle slow."
He did it. In through the nose. Out slow. Lawson watched his father do what she told him to do, and something passed across his face that was not anger.
It was Tuan who moved next. Claudine didn't see him do it; she only heard the rustle of a rain jacket being unzipped, and then his voice, small and steady in the wind.
"Sergeant Shuford, sir. There's something else you should see. I found it this morning in the printer in the marina office. It's an association document. I'm sorry, Mr. Tillery. I'm sorry, Captain. I should've given it to somebody this morning and I didn't know who."
"Give me that," Lawson said.
"Hand it to me, son," Shuford said.
Tuan handed it to Shuford. Paper rustled. The rain was coming harder now, slanting across the fairway in sheets, and the sergeant moved to stand under the overhang of Clementine's flybridge, where the boat sheltered a little piece of the finger pier, and in doing so he came around where Claudine could see him. She watched him read it. Notice of Violation and Intent to Assess. Boat Slot Unit 1. She watched him get to the end of the second page, where it said that documentation of the violation, including law enforcement reports, would be attached. She watched him look at the date and time printed in tiny type across the bottom of each page by the printer, the way some office printers do. Printed 10/09, 11:47 PM.
Last night. Fourteen hours before anyone called the Sheriff's Office about a boat theft.