“It’s a bit of a patchwork of people, isn’t it? You’d think Ben would have more permanent help.”

She shrugged. “Never needed it until recently.”

“You mean, until the Rye brothers arrived.”

“We’re all thinking it, but thank you for saying it.” She winked at him. “Whitaker is just odd, in general. It’s a privately owned island. A rich benefactor—mysterious and unseen—owns it and runs it through a corporation. All of the property is leased and the Board, of which Sylvia is now the president thanks to a financial scandal with the last one who is off island for some me time, makes most of the rules.”

“Very dramatic.”

“Right?”

“Does anyone know who the owner is?”

“If they do, they aren’t talking.” But, man. She really wanted to know. More than once her curiosity got ahold of her and she asked around. No one had any answers and Sylvia just smiled instead of responding. It had been an exercise in frustration.

“That’s consistent with my experience so far.” He shook his head. “There are some odd folks here.”

“Despite the weird circumstances and tales about in-fighting by some of the original families that moved in, Whitaker is pitched as a bucolic, quiet island where people can go to start over. Reclusive and cut off with very few activities to attract tourists, so visitors beware.”

“Is all that on a brochure somewhere?”

“It’s what sold me.” WITSEC placed her in Portland. She loved the buzz but needed more quiet. She thought living on Whitaker would be temporary but when the months stretched into years, she realized she liked the quiet. “The Board oversees Ben. Ben reports to someone in Seattle.”

“And the whole system works unless and until someone turns up dead.”

“That seems to be true.” She thought back before the summer. “Literally nothing happened here until last summer. I know because I answer most of Ben’s work calls. A kid causing trouble now and then. Someone trampling on someone else’s garden. Not death.”

“Death is everywhere.”

“I wish you were wrong.”

“Hey.” Ben walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He held a file and the deep lines around his mouth spoke to the pressure he was under. Again.

Connor’s eyebrow lifted. “Well?”

“Doc Lela is doing an autopsy. Her initial assessment is that our victim was stabbed to death.”

“There was so much blood.” Maddie regretted the comment when she saw Connor flinch.

Ben stared at Connor. “You don’t know him?”

“Never seen him before.”

“Me either.” And she would know because she made it her business to know these things. “When did this happen?”

Ben took a quick look in his file before closing it again. “With the rain and cold temperatures, she couldn’t give a definite answer yet, but she’s thinking twenty-four to thirty hours ago.”