Sheila approached the woman with the dog. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." The woman's voice was jittery, badly shaken. "I just feel so bad for Duchess." The dog looked up balefully at the sound of its name. "She's never acted like that before. I don't know what got into her but she did not want to leave the boat. Did you, baby?"

She lowered her head to kiss the dog. It shied away from her until it was no longer able to prevent the unwanted affection.

"That's strange," Sheila said.

"The captain said it happens a lot on this route. People usually crate their animals if they have to take them back and forth." She shrugged. "Something about the island. Animals can sense things like that, I think."

Less than a week ago, he would have scoffed at a comment like that. Now Martin wondered if maybe animals didn't have some sort of low-level telepathy. A vague psychic twinkle that humans had lost over time. Animals in the wild seemed to possess a sense of impending danger to prevent them from becoming food for larger predators. When it effected domestic animals, their seemingly aberrant behavior became the subject of viral videos.

Sheila gave Martin a peculiar look before they headed for the front of the ship. "That was weird, wasn't it?"

"'Something about the island,'" he repeated. "I'd love to have a chat with the captain. This sort of thing would be great for my book."

He was hoping she'd bite, ask him more about it. But she didn't seem interested, looking off toward the choppy waters of the sound. He dropped the subject unhappily.

The engines started and the horn blasted across the sound. Less than a minute later, the ferry began cutting a swath through the chop toward Block Island.

Sheila smiled into the sun, the wind whipping strands of hair from her ponytail. Across the sound the mainland was only half visible through a haze as the ferry began its westerly turn toward the bigger island.

Only one ferry serviced Barrows Bay, a smaller boat that ran three times daily. The others went back and forth from the fishing hamlet of Galilee in Point Judith to Block Island every two hours.

In a few minutes the island came into view in the distance, a bolt of green against the blue. Block Island was mostly flat with small hills, compared to the craggy island of Barrow Bay. In the deep water off the southeast shore several wind turbines spun. Whitecaps lapped against their tall white poles.

The ferry continued its slow turn until Block Island and the wind farm were on the starboard side. The female crewmember they saw earlier dashed out of the stairwell, calling the name "Don" frantically. She staggered, running toward the wheelhouse. Her eyes had a semi-dazed look, like she'd been up since yesterday.

She called out "Captain!" and tore open the door, slumping into it before she managed to step through.

"What the hell was that about?"