True Crimes from Americas Southern Shores

The heat in Ocean Springs did not break, not even after midnight. It pressed thick and damp against the Ham and Ingles shipyards, wrapping the hulls and the men who worked them in a kind of sticky haze. The air tasted of salt and diesel, and the clang of metal on metal carried across the water, echoing into the marshes where mosquitoes and secrets bred in equal numbers.On the edge of the yard, und...