Down the hill, Marisa was back in the shop doorway, scanning the incoming ferry. Anne knew she was hoping for signs of her long-lost sister. Anne was saving a special spot on the festival bill for Fallen Angels, the fiddle-playing sisters. She knew that there were many ways of being lost, many ways of finding a way back to each other. She thought of Lily, down in Connecticut with Rose and Liam, a miracle story if ever there was one. She thought of Patrick, the cute cop who had so clearly taken a shine to Marisa. Her skin tingled as the piper hit his high note, as a salt wind blew off the bay. Cape Hawk was a magical place, and the music made it more so.

Even for residents who were hundreds of miles away . . .

Lily, sitting at her grandmother's bedside, felt like the girl who cried wolf. What did she really know? What proof did she have? What evidence had she had nine years ago? Seeing the doctor's blank expression reminded her of that day in the Berkshires, when she had been so hysterical—and the other hikers had, at first, just stared at her with disbelief.

She tried to shrug off that terrible memory, concentrating on her grandmother lying so still. The doctor had stepped back to talk to Clara; Lily could hear their voices whispering, then fade as they walked down the hall together. She could only imagine what they were saying, what everyone was thinking.

The room was suddenly quiet—it was just Lily and Maeve. Lily had been dreaming of this moment for so long. She clasped her grandmother's hand and felt like a little girl. Holding this hand . . . walking to the school bus . . . to swimming lessons . . . to the post office . . . to Foley's store for penny candy . . .

“Well, if it's not the prodigal granddaughter,” a deep voice growled.

Lily blinked, looking over her shoulder.

Patrick Murphy stood in the doorway. He pulled the door partway closed behind him, then came closer, staring down at Maeve. His curly red hair glinted in the sun. The expression in his bright blue eyes was grave, as if it were his own grandmother lying in the bed.

“You should hear what they're saying out in the hall,” he said.

“Did they tell you that Edward did this?” she asked.

“We'll get to that in a minute,” Patrick said. “Cops are on the way. You make an accusation like that, it's going to bring the heat.”

“You're a cop,” she said. “I want you to investigate it.”

“I'm off the force, as you already know. Finished, finito, done. You did me in, Mara. Looking for you—well, for your body, actually—nearly an entire decade. I was positive Edward Hunter had murdered you. We found lime in his trunk. You know about lime? Makes things dissolve quickly. Yep, I thought he'd poured it on your bones.”

Lily tried to hold back a shiver.

“I saw that,” he said.