No matter how hard she denied it, how carelessly she shrugged, Ripley was shaken down to the toes. “Zack can take care of himself.” She paced away, and back again. “Look, in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a capable, thoroughly trained officer of the law. He carries a weapon, and knows how to use it when and if he has to. If he makes the job look easy, it’s because he knows how to handle whatever comes along. I’d trust him with my life.”

“I think Nell’s asking if she can trust you with his.”

“I’ve got a badge, I’ve got a weapon, and a solid right cross. That’s how I handle things,” Ripley said furiously. “If someone comes after Zack, you can bet your ass they’ll have to go through me.”

“One times three, Ripley.” Deliberately, Mia laid a hand on her arm. “In the end, that’s what it’ll take.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

Mia nodded. They were standing in a circle under the angry sky. “You already are.”

Instinctively, Ripley stepped back, broke the connection. “Don’t look for me,” she said. “Not this way.” She turned her back on them and the rising wind and, kicking at the sand, she walked back to the village.

“She’ll think about this, and struggle with it. As her head’s made of granite, it’s going to take longer than I like. But for the first time in years, she’s wavering.” Mia gave Nell a comforting pat on the shoulder. “She won’t risk Zack.”

They went back to the bookstore, and had no sooner stepped inside when the rain fell in a torrent.

Nell burned the candles in her trio of jack-o’- lanterns not just to decorate now, but for their original purpose. She set them on her porch to frighten away evil.

Between the knowledge gleaned from the books Mia had lent her and her own instincts, she set about making her cottage as safe a haven as she could manage.

She swept away negative energy, lit candles for tranquility and protection. She laid red jasper and small pots of sage on the windowsills and moonstones and sprigs of rosemary under the pillows on her bed.

She made a pot of chicken soup.

It simmered while the rain lashed, and her little cottage became a cozy cocoon.

But she couldn’t relax in it. She paced from window to window, door to door. She looked for busywork and couldn’t find it. She forced herself to sit in her office, to complete a job proposal. But after ten minutes she was up again, her concentration as fractured as the lightning-struck sky.

Giving up, she called the station house. Surely Zack was back from the mainland by now. She would speak to him, hear his voice. Then she’d feel better.