“No name.”

Jeremy said, “I found something.”

I gave him a quick glance as the wail of the sirens grew louder. “What?”

“No interesting emails, but there’s a number here. Some calls around five hours ago. And a text.”

“Read it to me.”

“Okay, the text is from the same number as the calls. Um, someone says, ‘Needs to be done tonight.’ And Kiln here says, ‘No problem.’ And then the other guy—”

“Is there a name for this other guy?”

“No. But the other guy, he says, ‘Confirm when done.’”

If it was a guy. My mind was racing, trying to figure out who knew that Jeremy and I were in Cape Cod.

Only one name came to mind.

Madeline Plimpton.

But did that make sense? Not only had this man I’d shot known where we were, but Cory Calder had known we were here, too. Did it make any sense that Jeremy’s great-aunt would tell either of them where to find us?

“What else?” I asked Jeremy.

“That’s it.”

The fact that we had a number to connect to those calls and texts was a start. I got out my own phone, brought up the number I’d used to call Madeline Plimpton.

“Read me the number,” I said to Jeremy. He called it out, and I compared it to what I had for Ms. Plimpton.

Not a match.

Not that that really proved anything.

I gave Kiln a wry smile. “With that number on your phone, maybe we don’t need you to give us a name.”

Kiln said nothing.

A fire engine screamed to a stop at the end of the driveway, and slowly turned in. I asked Jeremy to hand me Kiln’s phone, then said, “Help me move this asshole.”

We each grabbed an arm and dragged him across the gravel and into the backyard of the neighboring beach house. As we dropped his arms, a fireman ran toward me.

“Paramedics on the way!” he said. Then a look of alarm crossed his face as he saw the gun in my hand. I had it pointed to the ground.

“Police, too?” I asked.

The man nodded. “Why?”

I nodded toward Kiln. “He’s our firestarter.”

The fireman shook his head. “He torched the place?”

I nodded. “That, and more. I can’t have him heading off in an ambulance. We need the police.”

“I’ll alert them,” he said, and then glanced at the beach house. “It’s a goner, but maybe we can stop it from spreading to the other houses.”

I nodded and watched him run off. His fellow firefighters were unspooling hoses and dragging them toward the house.

There were two calls I needed to make. The first was to Barry Duckworth. It was late, but I was pretty sure he’d want to hear from me. For the second call, I’d need someplace quieter.