"Chilly."

"Yeah. You might think about rolling on purpose. Cool you right off."

The bastard. The bastard. Zoe almost burst through the door and told him what an unfeeling, obnoxious man he was, making fun of her at a moment of peak embarrassment.

But she was smiling, too, although she doubted that was a good sign.

"Don't worry," he said. "Next time you won't catch me off guard."

Next time?

He trotted down the stairs. Even through her door, she could hear the kick in his step. He might think she was completely insane, but he hadn't minded being kissed.

"Well," she muttered, digging in her still-unpacked boxes and bags for suitable kayaking attire, "doesn't that just make my day?"

Thirteen

Zoe waited until it was a rising tide before she got out on the water in her lime-green sit-on-top kayak. She dragged it down the bluff from the garage and launched from a small, protected area among the rocks. She had her life vest and safety whistle, but didn't bother with a dry bag of emergency supplies, since she didn't plan to go far and would stay within yelling distance of shore. She didn't know what had happened to her wet suit and instead had put on exercise tights, an exercise shirt and a fleece vest.

At first the paddle felt awkward and even the slightest wave or breeze put her on edge, but within a few minutes, she had her kayaking rhythm back.

Kyle and his documentary and Teddy Shelton and whatever he was up to-J.B. and his questions, even his steady calm-had all zapped her energy and frazzled her nerves. Kayaking should help.

She should have stayed with her sister after breakfast and fixed her door.

Not kissed McGrath.

Maybe her blueberry-pancake sugar high had crashed, explaining her impulsiveness.

She breathed out and dipped one end of her paddle into the water. It was just her and the gulls. The lobster boats were in deep water. Most of the pleasure boats were south or north of the harbor or docked. She noticed the Castellane yacht hadn't moved.

The wind was in her face, but it'd be at her back on her return trip, when she'd really be feeling the effects of her first time in a kayak in a year. As she crossed the harbor, she avoided the shipping channels so she wouldn't run into the path of a bigger boat, which wouldn't easily see a small kayak, even a lime-green one. Bruce liked to threaten to run her over with his lobster boat. He thought most kayakers were irresponsible and out of their minds.

She kept her weight centered in her boat and used her shoulders to dip the paddle, first on one side, then the other. Her kayak was stable and easy to maneuver, but not meant for long treks.

The sounds of the gulls and the ocean soothed her raw nerves. Normally she'd have headed northeast to the quiet waters among the small islands along the shore of the nature preserve. There were spots with tricky currents, strong tides, shallow, narrow passages and underwater ledges that could be treacherous for both kayakers and power boaters, but Zoe knew where they were. She loved the islands, but the reminders of a year ago would be everywhere and she didn't want that, not today.

She rested a moment, letting her kayak bob in the water, her shoulders aching but not unpleasantly so. Her father and Olivia used to sit on her aunt's front porch and watch Zoe and Christina kayak along the shore as teenagers. Christina didn't go out as often once she started college, but Zoe stayed with it, kayaking a great way for her to relieve stress. She wondered if her sister would take it up again-Kyle Castellane had an expensive kayak capable of handling long treks and virtually any condition. He'd never taken a lesson.

Too busy trying to get into Olivia's attic, Zoe thought, suddenly put out with him for bringing up his request when she was still getting her feet under her now that she was back in Goose Harbor, when she was trying to figure out what was going on with the two break-ins.

Then again, she supposed she should give Kyle credit for not walking in through the front door the way McGrath had.

She stiffened, going very still in her boat. Christina had locks on her café doors and her house doors- forced entry wasn't necessary at Olivia's house. Just go through the damn porch door.

Could whoever had broken in to her sister's house and café have gone through Olivia's as well? Were she and Christina the targets, or just Christina, or were the break-ins random and had nothing to do with either of them?

Zoe shook her head, nearly throwing herself off balance and turning over her boat. But she quickly centered herself and continued paddling, moving closer to shore now that she'd passed the town docks.

No one had broken into her aunt's house. The only uninvited guest she'd had was her FBI agent.

Staying close to shore, she paddled past a rockbound point and out of the harbor, the water less choppy now, no wind. Bruce's lobster pound was up ahead, quiet at midday. She headed toward the protected salt marsh and figured she'd turn around in the cove there.

As she passed Bruce's wreck of a cottage, just thirty feet from her, she noticed a heap of a truck parked out back, then saw Teddy Shelton walk out onto the rotting deck. He waved to her. "How's the kayaking?"

"Invigorating."

"Zoe, right? Zoe West? I heard you were back in town."

She nodded. "It was time. You renting this place from Bruce?"

"Yeah. Fancy, huh?"

"Nice location."

"Stinks at low tide."

She smiled. "You get used to it."

"Not me."

He walked down the two half-rotted porch steps and followed a sandy path through the tall beach grass and wild beach roses and stood at the water's edge, the tide nearly in now, lapping at his feet.

Zoe could feel her boat scraping the sandy bottom of the shallow cove. It was high tide, but the water wasn't much more than two feet at its deepest here. At low tide, the cove would be a wide stretch of mud. She skimmed her paddle over the still, clear water and tried to keep her boat from pushing in toward land with the tide. She was at a disadvantage and should say goodbye.

But she didn't. "I understand you got off on the wrong foot with my houseguest."

"That FBI asshole? Yeah, I did."

Zoe noticed Shelton hadn't hesitated when she referred to J.B. as her houseguest. But given Bruce's big mouth, she wouldn't be surprised if it was all over town by now.

"He should clear out," Shelton said, pushing a toe into the wet, soft sand. "He's pissing people off."

Zoe gave a neutral nod and said nothing.

Shelton lit a cigarette. He was a big man, probably in his early forties, and wore faded jeans, a denim jacket over a white T-shirt and a belt with a huge silver buckle. He shook his head, blowing out smoke. "You cops. Always suspicious. They teach you that in cop school, pester people who're sitting in their truck minding their own business?"

"I'm not a cop anymore."

"That's right. I heard that. You back for good?"

"I don't know yet."

A sudden swell lifted her kayak and pushed it toward shore, the bottom scraping hard in the sand. If she ran aground, she'd have to get out and shove off again, and she didn't want to do that, not with Teddy Shelton standing there smoking his cigarette and lying to her.

"I have to go." But she added, "Did you hear about the break-in at my sister's café last night?"

Shelton nodded thoughtfully, holding his cigarette between two fingers. "Any leads?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to the police since last night. I doubt there are."

He grinned at her, exhaled more smoke. "Still got your cop instincts, don't you?"

She smiled without any meaning, any pleasantness behind it. No wonder this guy had popped up on J.B.'s radar screen, as he'd put it. "I have training and experi-ence-I'm not sure I ever had any instincts. If you see Bruce, tell him I said hi, okay?"