“Sir,” she said, cutting him off, “we are very protective of our health care workers, and I'm unable to give out any information about their whereabouts. If you'd like to send a letter to this office, I'll see if I can forward it on—”

“Thank you,” Patrick growled. “That won't be necessary.”

Flora needed to go for her morning walk. He let her off the boat, watched her prowl the woods around the boatyard's perimeter. That gave Patrick a chance to think. He could try calling Peru directly, try to get through to someone at the Global Care group. Or he could dial an old friend in the Baltimore PD, call in some old favors.

He didn't know the number by heart, had to look it up—but there it was in his old address book, written in years before. Patrick dialed, looking forward to hearing his pal's voice. Instead, he got Detective James Hanley's voicemail.

“Hey, Jim,” he said. “It's Pat Murphy. A blast from the past, right? Listen, I'm trying to get some information on the whereabouts of a Baltimore woman, Samantha Mahon. . . .”

Patrick left him a long message about Global Care, Sam being somewhere in the wilds of Peru, her sister getting worried. Then he hung up, wondering how long it would take Jim to get back to him.

He hoped it was soon. Because he knew how badly Marisa wanted to find her sister, and if it took too long, Patrick just might have to fly down to South America to bring her back himself.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

On her way back to Hubbard's Point from Rhode Island, Lily felt recharged and energized. Holding Liam had triggered even more desire, and seeing Rose had unleashed a hurricane of love—just like Ghost Hills, pounding the reef. When dawn broke, Rose woke up to find her mother sitting there, and Lily could still hear her cry of joy.

She drove under the train trestle that marked the entrance to Hubbard's Point and saw early-morning walkers out for their daily constitutional. There were the strollers, out to enjoy the gardens and scenery, and the power-walkers, out for exercise. They walked in groups, talking and laughing, or alone, just listening to the music of the waves and leaves rustling in the wind.

Driving around the bend and up the first hill, she saw Bay and Tara. Tara was pushing a stroller, with baby Joey inside, and she and Bay were winded and sweating and gave huge waves. Lily waved back, her heart lifting. Seeing Liam and Rose had done a lot to chase last night's demons away.

When she pulled up to the house, she came face-to-face with a man she didn't know. Tall, dark-haired, wearing a navy blue FBI T-shirt, he was sitting in the shade on Maeve's iron four-seasons garden bench.

“I'm Joe Holmes,” he said, rising to shake her hand. “Tara's husband.”

“I'm Lily Malone,” she said.