“Don’t know.” Zola waved and ran to her, and Joellen turned and saw me, and she smiled. All my life until this island, the only person in the world always happy to see me come into a room. I walked fast to her, didn’t pretend to not be happy. Zola turned actual cartwheels in the grass.

“Joellen, watch me!” she yelled.

“Whoa,” Joellen laughed when I threw my arms around her. “Are you hugging now?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Do you have another kid on the island? Sorry I didn’t listen to your messages yet. Can we have lunch before you go? We could go to Blackbird and get toast. Francine’s at a doctor appointment, but she’ll be back. What are you doing here, why didn’t you tell me you were coming…” Joellen’s smile was fading fast, and I finally saw she was not alone.

A uniformed officer stood behind her, near her.

“Oh God,” I whispered, “what is it?” She pulled me aside.

“It’s—it’ll be fine,” she said. “He just needs to ask some questions….It’ll be all right. Call me when you’re home, and I’ll come by on my way off the island, okay? Muir? Okay?”

“Jo. Who is he here for?”

“Honey, please don’t worry, call me later.” She squeezed my hand and walked back to Jane and the cop.

I turned myself around in a cold panic. Where was he; where had he gone—

“Muir.” Sean. Beside me. “What’s with…is that a cop?”

Just when I needed him, exactly where I wished he was. Again.

“I guess,” I said. “What is he—city? Sheriff?”

“How would I know?”

“Is it about Natan?” I whispered, hoarse. “Did he press charges for assault? Am I going to jail?”

“No! What are you— Who’s your friend with the hair?”

“My social worker.”

His eyes were wide. “Joellen? Crap…it’s like meeting my in-laws.” I did not return his smile. “Catch me up here—she didn’t tell you she was coming?”

“No. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m going to jail.”

“Why would you even— Muir, you are not going to jail. Just hold on.”

Exactly what I needed him to say.

We stood and watched Joellen talk to the cop, then Joellen went to Zola, still turning cartwheels in the grass. Thank God, I thought. Comfort the poor kid. Those are probably anxiety cartwheels.

Then she took Zola’s hand and led her to the cop.

“What the—what is she doing?”

Sean and I sat on the wooden picnic bench and watched Joellen kneel beside Zola, who nodded and shook her head at the cop’s questions.

“Wait,” I moaned. “Someone is dead. Her mom. Oh God, Zola.” I couldn’t stand it. I went to her and stood behind her and Joellen.

“Muiriel, honey—”