“Well, the tabloids are gonna have a field day,” Lance said. “Can you imagine, once they find out Mara Jameson has come back from the grave? The only thing that would make them happier would be if she had a tousle-haired little moppet with her—that and a nice custody tug-of-war with the father.”

“The Sociopath Also Known As Edward Hunter,” Christine Dunne said.

Patrick looked over at her, obviously with more than a little curiosity at her tone, because Chris blushed slightly.

“It's pretty clear, isn't it? The guy must have been some piece of work, to send Mara/Lily underground all this time.”

“Maybe she's lying about that,” Lance said.

“I believe her,” Chris said.

Patrick let himself smile, just a little. He liked Christine Dunne better already.

Rose Malone sat on the rocks, staring at the water. In some ways, this was her favorite place to be. Right near salt water, with spray misting her face and a thick ribbon of silver fish swimming by, close enough for her to watch. Narragansett Bay wasn't as cold and clear as Cape Hawk Harbor, an inlet off the Gulf of St. Lawrence, but still—bending close, Rose could see lots of marine life under the surface.

“Dr. Neill, come look,” she said.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“Rock crabs,” she said, pointing at the dark green crabs scuttling along the bottom. “And minnows. Why are there so many of them?”

“I'm not sure,” he said. “They might be staying close to the shore to avoid bigger fish farther out.”

Up in Cape Hawk, Dr. Neill was known far and wide as the person who knew more about sharks and whales than anyone in Canada. Maybe more than anyone in the world. Rose glanced at his face. Tan, with lines around his blue eyes, staring out at the water.

“What are you looking for?” Rose asked. “Nanny?”

“How'd you guess?”

“Because I was looking for her too,” Rose said.

Nanny was the beluga—the white whale—who had swum down here to New England, far from her home in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, at the same time Rose's mother had found out about her grandmother. It seemed so magical to Rose, that the whale she had grown up loving would end up on this faraway coastline at the same time Rose and her mother did, almost as if she was following them—or leading them.

“Will you check on your computer?” Rose asked, scrambling up the rocks to look over his shoulder. Dr. Neill had a laptop programmed to follow the tracking devices on many sharks and whales and other marine species he and his friends had tagged. Rose loved to watch the lights blink—green for whales, purple for sharks. But right now, she could barely even see the lights.