Max keeps pace with me, head pressed to my leg. I pull the door open a crack, considering. He shifts weight and whines, tail wagging. I let go.

I take one step away, leaving enough room for him to nose his way out. He glances back at me, unsure.

Regret hits with that glance. Even Max thinks this is a dumb idea.

I reach for his collar to pull him back in, but a split second before I can connect, a fat wood pigeon flutters up from the front drive, and that’s it, too late, he’s off like a shot.

I hear the kids’ footsteps upstairs through the floorboards. I hear Hugh’s voice, cheery, pretending everything is just another happy morning. Because it is!

“Ah crap!” I shout upstairs. “Damn it. Max got out! I need to…”

I wait a beat, then jog to the boot room down the hall. I fish thick socks out of the dryer and tug them on, scramble into walking boots, tie them tightly. Grab my green hunter coat in case the wind’s up. Mornings are cold here, even in midsummer.

As I hurry back to the front foyer, I see a head peeking around the corner of the stairwell. Not Hugh’s.

Charlie stares down at me, placid.

“Hey, buddy, tell Dad I’ve gone to get Maxy? Somebody must have left the door open.” It feels like one lie too many to name Sally specifically, even if I’m implying it. “I won’t be long.”

Charlie doesn’t answer. I feel sweat prick my armpits.

“Go tell Dad,” I say more firmly.

“Be careful,” he whispers, then darts away.

And before I can second-guess myself, I’m out too. Like a shot.

I can breathe again. The air smells sweet and briny. There’s a hint of woodsmoke in the wind, a different scent from the logs we burn in fireplaces here. Maybe it’s from the Sunnan campfires. Or from whatever I saw on Joseph’s Rock.

You didn’t see anything. Let it go.

I’m prepared for the possibility of getting all the way to the bay before I catch the dog, but I spot him at the edge of the village, fixated on a clump of Merlin’s foot flowers. Mrs. Tavish’s terrier must have marked it sometime in the past week. Max sees me coming but can’t stop sniffing, his brow furrowed in helpless, obsessed panic. I grab his collar almost reluctantly, then I crouch and stroke his back.

“Shhh. S’okay. We’re not headed back quite yet, bud.”

I let him go, and after a deeply confused stare, he trots off down the cobbled high street.