“Hal, they’re searching every house and outbuilding on the island,” Stone replied. “Every structure has to be cleared, and the woods and beaches, too. It was just your turn.”

Rhinehart nodded.

“I think we’re about done here,” Young said.

They all trooped up the stairs. Young thanked Rhinehart and apologized for the intrusion, and the four men got into Young’s cruiser.

“I guess that clears Rhinehart,” Young said.

“I guess so,” Stone replied.

“I’m taking you home so you can get some rest.”

“All right.”

Young dropped Stone at the top of the driveway. “I’ll call you the minute we find anything.”

Stone noted that he didn’t say “Holly” or “her.” She had already become an object.

43

STONE WENT BACK TO THE HOUSE, and Mabel brought a sandwich on a tray to the study.

“You look terrible,” she said. “Eat; you need your strength.”

“Mabel, when was the last time you saw Holly?”

“Well, after you left for your lunch appointment, she had a sandwich. Then she did some work in that little room of Dick’s while I was vacuuming. Then she changed into her running clothes and went out. I saw her stretching when I took out the garbage.”

“What time was that?”

“Pretty close to one o’clock,” she replied.

Stone looked at his watch. Holly had been missing for twenty-four hours. After that long, the chance of recovering her alive fell off sharply as the hours passed. And after forty-eight hours, she was very likely dead.

There were exceptions, he knew, and that was what kept the hopes of friends and relatives of missing people alive. There was that girl out in Utah who was kidnapped and held for more than a year. But that rarely happened.

Thinking of friends and family, he suddenly had an awful thought: He had not called Hamilton Barker, Holly’s retired master-sergeant father. He opened his address book and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Ham?”

“Yep.”

“It’s Stone Barrington.”

Ham’s voice brightened. “Hey, Stone, how are you?”

“Not so good.”

He became wary. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Holly; she’s disappeared.”

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”

“First of all, Holly and I are on an island in Maine called Islesboro. There have been some kidnappings and murders here; some of them were women.”

“Anybody who tried to kidnap Holly would have his hands full,” Ham said.

“I know that,” Stone agreed. “Nevertheless, she went out jogging yesterday at this time, and she hasn’t been seen since. A search of the whole island is under way, but she hasn’t been found yet.”

“What’s the name of the island again?”

“Islesboro; it’s in Penobscot Bay.”

“Hang on a minute.” Ham left the phone, and Stone could hear him talking to a woman, probably Ginny, his girlfriend. “Stone, I’ve got an atlas here. I see Penobscot Bay.”

“It’s a long, narrow island off Camden.”