“Yes. Liam has the same haunted look as Peter. Some people have to understand the things that scare them most.”

Patrick grabbed a chair and pulled it over right next to her wheelchair and sat down. “Maeve, I have to ask you something. Do you remember Edward stopping by the cottage?”

She frowned, gazing out the window. “Yes. Clara and I were out in the garden. He said he was in the area on business.”

“Did you ask him to check your furnace?”

Maeve snorted. “Of course not. Why?”

“Lily has made some allegations. And we're taking them very seriously.”

“What are they?”

“She thinks Edward messed around with the heating system, poisoned you. Maybe he suspected she was alive. And he knew the only way to get to her was through you.”

“She would come home if she thought I needed her,” Maeve said, her eyes open wide.

“We think maybe he did something to your furnace, under the house. There's access from outside, through the door above the seawall. It's possible he blocked the outflow, or stuffed something into the ventilation ducts. We've checked, and there was a partial fingerprint, but no signs of tampering. We suspect that he did something to cause carbon dioxide to build up. You couldn't smell it, you couldn't see it.”

“It's summertime; I wouldn't even have thought of carbon monoxide,” Maeve said. “But I'm old, and I get cold. I'm always chilly, even when other people are warm. I turn the heat up on cool nights. Or I light a fire.”

“Edward might have taken advantage of that. Did anything seem different? Anything you can think of? Anything at all, Maeve. It would help. . . .”

“I can't remember,” Maeve murmured, and Patrick could see that he had upset her. She was suddenly paler than before, slumping slightly in her chair. He held her hand. It was cold.

The hospital's air-conditioning was humming. He didn't see a thermostat to turn it down. But he got up and pulled the white cotton blanket off Maeve's bed. He tucked it around her shoulders, down over her knees. Then he sat down beside her and held her hand again. After all the time they'd spent together, Patrick loved her almost as much as his own grandmother.

“At least two good things have come of all this,” Maeve said. “Lily had Rose. And she met Liam.”

Patrick nodded, and he caught Maeve looking at him with a worried gaze.

Maeve dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, smiling slightly. “I once hoped you and my granddaughter would fall in love. After your marriage broke up, and during all the years you were looking for Lily and I could tell how much you cared . . . I wondered. You were so fascinated by her. . . .”

Patrick folded his arms over his chest, staring out the window.