Everyone shouts and starts scrambling haltingly away from the table in panic—their steps awkward with caution, three to go, after all—but Hugh has only one person in his sights.

He means to do it. Dear God, I see it, the calm seas behind his eyes, like this is all planned, like he’s intended to do this for days, from the moment the wharf’s engine broke down.

Matthew extends his hands as if he’s trying to calm a horse, but his face has the dark rage in it I saw this morning, strong enough to shake the island. “Hugh? Hugh. This is not who you are. Take a breath. Think about your family.”

He motions with one hand in my direction, eyes locked on his old friend.

Hugh laughs. “Like you give a single shit about my family! You want them dead. It’s vengeance. I understand it, Matty, it’s what I would do, but I’m not going to let you. I will protect what’s mine better than you did.”

“Stop it!” My voice is a slap, so forceful I don’t fully recognize it. “Hugh, enough; you have gone insane.”

No more decorum, no more peacemaking, there is no space for that in the next twenty minutes, but he doesn’t even glance at me. His eyes, his gun barrel remain steady on Matthew—even when Brian stands and clinks his wineglass with a spoon as if he’s proposing another toast.

“All right!” Brian laughs, tries to. His eyes are panicked even as he swallows around a smile. “Let’s just have it all out, right? I did it.”

That gets Hugh’s attention.

Even Matthew reels. “Brian?”

I thought I’d lost the capacity for shock today, but PC Brian has just knocked the rest of the air out of me.

“Not Matty. Not anybody but me. I put bad fuel in your boat, cut the fiber lines, disabled the mobile tower. No more than a few hours’ trouble and well worth it, doing the island’s work. I didn’t even cut the power, you know. That was Lute, and you can’t fight Lute, so just listen to what I’m saying and get that gun off your friend. You don’t want to do this, Hugh. Not to Matty Clare.”

“Why?” My voice echoes in the leaden silence.

Brian turns to me, one hand still stretched out to Hugh.

“Why would you do that?” I ask.

Hugh watches Brian like a hovering raptor.

Matty has been forgotten. I gather my wits enough to glance quickly at him and at the front door, eyes wide in entreaty. He understands. He starts to edge away toward the foyer, but Mrs. Wickett grabs his arm.

“What’s happening?” she asks, shaky. Matthew crouches to reassure her.