"Clarence's kids are always sick," Mike said. "Jake pays him zilch, and they don't eat right. Now, Mom, please!"

"Please what?" She blew a hair out of her face.

"Sit down. Relax." He took a breath. "Hoagie's coming over."

"I thought," she said, chiding him, "you said he'd get us shot."

"The cops say the guy must have been after somebody else. It was those tinted windows of Romeo's. Hoagie's okay, I think. And I don't want to leave you alone."

"Where are you going?"

He hesitated and finally got it out. "Highbourne Cay. I'm borrowing the Island Commissioner's boat—"

Oh, God, it was Sean all over again. She tried to steady her voice. "Mike, it's blowing thirty knots out there and—"

"There's bound to be a doctor staying in one of the tourist hotels. So I'm going, Mom. I have to."

She braced herself, took a breath, and finally got it out. "You're right." She smiled. "Be careful?"

He kissed her and was gone.

She went back into Thea's room. The little girl was lying with her teddy bear, staring at the ceiling. Ellen felt her forehead for the tenth time in the last half hour. No fever still, but a fast, erratic pulse.

"Thea?" she whispered. The child did not move. There was more expression in the eyes of her teddy bear than in hers. Ellen turned the teddy facedown so she wouldn't have to look.

She seldom prayed, but now she did: Please God, don't take her too.

She rubbed a tiny hand for a long while, and finally the eyes closed and Thea seemed to sleep. She was easing her fingers away from the child's when she sensed someone in the room. It was Hoagie. She noticed for the first time how full his shoulders were, how trim his waist.

"If she isn't right when the weather clears," he murmured, "I'll fly her in to Nassau. So don't you fret and worry, luv, she's going to be all right."

She looked into his eyes. "Something frightened her on Masthead Point, after you flew by."

He tensed. "Frightened her? My plane?"

"No." She moved to the window and looked out at the rain. The tropical night had slammed down like a curtain. "What did you drop, Hoagie?"

He stiffened. "Drop?"

"Thea saw you drop something."

"Oh." He hesitated. "Well, that was for you."

"For me?"

He nodded. "I had the worst dive-bombing record in the Argentine campaign."

She didn't know whether to believe him or not. "What was it?"

"A muumuu I found in a Madera Street boutique. So you wouldn't run out of clothes."

"Well, thanks. But you shouldn't have." She studied his face. "Especially since somebody took it."

He nodded. "I saw some blighter run out of the bush. Probably reckoned it was a traficante dropping dope." He shrugged. "So your muumuu's on some dusky maid in a bar on Kingston Street."