I smiled as a vision of Kenna popped into my mind, hair mussed and sleepy-eyed, telling me I needed to leave so she could get the eight hours she needed. She’d refused to even get out of bed, telling me there was a spare key in the cabinet by the door so I could lock up. I’d done as instructed, but I was keeping the key.

My phone rang through my truck’s speakers. I braced myself to see a Boston number on the screen, but it was Penny. “Hey, Pen.”

“What is this message you left me? You want me to reschedule all of your afternoon appointments?”

I winced. “Sorry, something came up. It’s important.”

I heard the sound of our office coffee maker in the background. “Important like you decided you needed to go climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, or important like someone’s in trouble, and you need to help?”

I grinned at the windshield. “More like the latter, but Kilimanjaro isn’t a bad idea. Maybe I’ll see if I can talk Ford into training for that.”

“Crosby McCoy, if you even think of trying to climb a mountain that people have died on, I will put salt in your coffee for weeks.”

“All right. No Kilimanjaro.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.” After spending most of Saturday with Zoe, I was still concerned about her foster placement. Something wasn’t sitting right, and it was time I did a little nosing around. I’d come up with an excuse to stop by unannounced, some paperwork that I needed to go over with Zoe. I just hoped my concerns were unfounded. Seeing and hearing about the worst in people sometimes made me a touch suspicious. But I’d rather that paranoia than letting a child be hurt or neglected.

“You make sure that girl’s okay.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You’re a good boy, Crosby.”

I chuckled. Apparently, I was eight years old in Penny’s eyes. “Gotta go, getting off the ferry.”

“All right. Call to check in when you’re done.”

“Will do.” I disconnected and navigated the stream of cars disembarking from the ship. Slowly, we made our way down the ramp and onto Shelter Island. I mentally ran through what I’d say to the Calhouns when I arrived. Reminded myself to be charming and not an asshole so they’d grant me access.

I wove my way through familiar island roads before pulling to a stop in front of the house. There were two cars home this time. The station wagon and a pickup truck. Maybe I’d get a feel for Mr. Calhoun, as well.