“And we’re how far from Islesboro?”

“About fifteen miles.”

“I’m going to need a launch to take us there.”

“You should speak to Mr. St. Clair,” the captain said. “I’ll need his permission.”

Stone went back to the afterdeck, where St. Clair had finished his tea. “Christian, I’m sorry, but we need to leave the yacht and return to Islesboro.”

“Sounds urgent.”

“Some personal business I have to take care of personally.” Stone wondered what that could be. “The captain says we’re only fifteen miles out from Islesboro.”

Christian picked up a nearby phone and pressed a button. “Captain,” he said, “please alter course for Islesboro and prepare a launch to take Mr. Barrington and Ms. Barker to his dock.” He hung up. “That’s done.”

“I’d better pack,” Stone said, and went below. Holly had fallen back asleep.

“Up and at ’em,” Stone said, kissing her on the ear with a loud smack.

“Are we sinking?” she asked sleepily.

“Ed Rawls seems to think so—so does Will Lee. They’ve both advised us to get back on dry land.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, sitting up. “Do I have time to shower and pack?”

“Both, if you hurry.” Stone could feel the yacht making its turn.

—

THEY WERE DROPPED at Stone’s dock, and they went to the house. Stone unlocked the door and looked around. “Everything seems shipshape,” he said. He unlocked the door to Dick’s little office, then opened the safe. It was there, unmolested. He returned to Holly. “All seems to be well.”

His phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Can you get over here, please?” Rawls asked.

“Give us a few minutes.”

“As few as possible.”

“Are you all right?”

“Not really.”

“We’re on our way.”

—

THEY STOPPED at the gate and waited for it to open; it took a moment, then they had to wait another moment for the log to roll out of the way before driving through.

The front door was open. “Ed?”

“Come in,” Rawls said.

They found him sitting in his reclining chair. CNN was on. “What’s going on?”

“Look around you,” Ed said.

Stone looked around and saw nothing. “What am I looking for?”

“Someone’s been in the house.”

“How can you tell?”

“Things have been changed, things only I would notice.”

“What about the bookcase?” Stone asked, referring to the entrance to the former swimming pool.

“Books have been taken down and replaced, but in the wrong order.”

“Did they breach your archive?”

“I don’t know—maybe, maybe not.”

“Was anything disturbed there?”

“If they got in, they were more careful than they were in the house.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

“Sleeping. I took a pill last night, an Ambien.”

“Would that make you sleep soundly enough for them to get in without waking you?”