Keegan closed the kitchen door and came down the back steps, now jarringly awake. He walked around to the front of the cottage and watched the two front vehicles approach up the last stretch of hill. The unmarked car, a Crown Vic, pulled over outside his front gate, and the squad car pulled in behind it.

The lieutenant got out of the front car’s driver’s seat. He was clearly on duty, driving a company sedan. He held a Manila envelope in one hand and his Panama hat in the other. He put the hat on and adjusted it, looking back at the squad car. He tucked the big envelope under his arm.

The door of the squad car opened, and the young cop from a few days ago unfolded himself to his full height and pulled on his blue uniform cap. The kid still looked ill at ease, towed into the great lieutenant’s orbit. He trudged over to Moore and ducked his head low when the older man spoke in his ear. Keegan stood inside the fence, arms folded, watching them. Apparently, there was a game plan. Both men walked over to the fence where Keegan stood waiting.

Keegan had an idea what was in Moore’s envelope, but, as he saw it, there was nothing to worry about. The gun was miles away under thirty feet of seawater. Even Eve’s wine bottle was long gone. They could toss the place. They could unscrew every vent cover and pry up every loose floorboard. They weren’t going to find anything. Keegan had been too careful. He went to the front gate and stood behind it, but he made no move to open it. The lieutenant approached him, holding out the brown envelope.

“I don’t need to see the paperwork,” Keegan told him. “Though it’s a thoughtful gesture.”

“It’s a warrant,” the lieutenant said. He spoke louder now, because the big diesel engine was huffing up around the last bend in the road, engine complaining. “You might want to look it over.”

“I know what it is,” Keegan told him, “and you’re wasting your time.” He opened the gate in the picket fence and stepped back like a gracious host. “Come on in, boys,” he said. “Take the place apart with my blessing. Maybe you’ll find my good fountain pen. I have no idea where it got to.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “It’s not for the house, Jimmy.” He was almost shouting to be heard. The big truck was close enough now that Keegan could feel its rumble underfoot. “It’s for the property.”