“I didn't like that man,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“If we're on a boat ride, he can't come back and try to talk to me again, right?”

“Right,” Liam said.

“Okay,” Rose said, nodding.

Liam grabbed his laptop, cell phone, and binoculars, and stuffed them into his satchel. He put on his sunglasses and cap, then grabbed a snack and some juice for Rose. Leading John into the living room, he stood next to Rose.

“Rose, this is Dr. Stanley, whose house we're staying in.”

“Thank you,” Rose said politely.

“It's nice to meet you, Rose. Do you like boats?”

A smile began on her lips, spread to her green eyes. Her face brightened, and she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I love them.”

“Do you like science?” John asked. “Oceanography?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile growing.

“Good,” he said. “Because we have an oceanographic mystery going on right here, and it's pretty much up to us to solve it.”

Liam rippled with excitement—the mystery of Ghost Hills. Generations of oceanographers had observed the phenomenon, pondered its cause. He gave Rose sunscreen to spread on her arms and legs, double-checked his bag to make sure he had everything. Then the three of them set off across John's yard.

A sturdy, thirty-foot stone breakwater jutted out from the beach. Liam could see that it kept the beachhead from eroding, pulling in crescents of sand and smooth sea-washed pebbles from the waves. Two boats were docked alongside—Respite, a J-24 racing sloop, and Blue Heron, a thirty-six-foot down east lobster boat overhauled and refitted for oceanography work.

Rose was an old hand, from all her years aboard Liam's family's whale-watching fleet up in Cape Hawk. She jumped aboard Blue Heron, standing back while John started up the engine and Liam walked along the breakwater, scanning once more for any sign of Edward, then casting off lines before leaping on board.

The water was calm as John steered south along the shore of the west passage of Narragansett Bay. The boat moved slowly, engines quiet, creating a lazy white wake rippling out behind. Two flocks of sandpipers flew low over the waves, just ahead of the big blue boat. Rose pointed, looking up to make sure Liam saw. He nodded and smiled, but his attention was fixed on larger birds—gulls and terns, swooping and diving along the beach.

“Birds working,” Liam said, rummaging for his binoculars, lifting them to his eyes as he watched the shorebirds feasting on tiny silver fish—minnows, menhaden. All around them splashed fins and tails of larger fish.

“Yep,” John said.

“What's running? Blues, stripers?”