He joined the army at eighteen thinking he'd at least get away from these people, maybe make something of himself. But he'd never worked at it harder than some asshole officer made him work, and after his stint, he was done. Without the army, he had no structure. He had no purpose, even if it was only one defined for him. He'd seen other guys do fine in the military, fine when they went back to civilian life. They got jobs, they had families, they made a contribution.

They gave up weapons they weren't supposed to have.

At least this nitwit job with Luke Castellane paid well. Luke had made allusions to a big bonus at the end of it. The guy was just dying at the idea of Zoe West and the FBI agent crawling up his ass. He didn't understand that Teddy had his own reasons for taking the job-for being in Goose Harbor at all.

He had the front door open and could hear the wind whooshing in the trees and the tide lapping all the way up to the grass. The place was such a hole. Saying he was renting it was too strong-he was just keeping up the taxes and utilities. Bruce wasn't making a profit.

The front room had a couch and a musty chair, the table with the oilcloth and three rickety chairs. Teddy had nearly blown himself up lighting the pint-size gas stove in the galley kitchen. No coffeemaker, just a pitted percolator.

He didn't know what Luke wanted him to do about Zoe West and the FBI agent. Why'd she come sneaking around? Was she on to him and checking him out? Had she found out about his prison time? His job with Luke? Maybe she and the G-man had found out about Luke's bullshit story that he wanted to protect Zoe and didn't believe it, either.

Teddy got up from his solitaire game. He was losing, anyway. Except for his arsenal, he hadn't broken the law. If and when he did, he'd make sure he had his escape route planned out ahead of time.

He should get on that.

He glanced at his array of cards on the crooked table. Clock. It was a moronic game. He used to play it as a kid, up in a closet when he was hiding from his crazy mother.

He went through the kitchen and out the back and got in his truck. He checked his apple crate of weapons in the jump seat. All nice and tidy. If the cops got wind of his arsenal, he'd be toast, but so far, so good. He'd come close to getting discovered not long after he arrived in Goose Harbor, when he ran into Patrick West on the docks. West was off duty, not in uniform. A friendly guy. He asked Teddy if he knew boats. Teddy didn't know why, but he didn't like people just walking up to him and starting talking. He'd asked West what business it was of his.

Patrick West hadn't gotten ruffled. He wasn't a big man, and he was steady, self-confident. He explained that he knew Goose Harbor, he knew its people. He understood the kind of guys who came through looking for work as opposed to the kind who came for their ocean fix, their lobster and clam dinners and walks on the beaches, their treks through cute shops. He figured Teddy for the former. It wasn't technically the case, but Teddy didn't argue with him.

"Lobster pound's hiring if you're interested," West told him. "Tell Bruce Young I sent you."

It was god-awful work. Teddy had lasted only a few weeks.

Then Patrick West was dead.

"And here I am," Teddy grumbled, starting his truck. "Lucky me."

He was out to the main road when his cell phone rang.

"I want you to maintain the status quo," Luke Castellane said, without so much as a how-was-your-morn-ing.

Teddy frowned. "What's that mean?"

"It means I like things as they are. It's better for all concerned if Patrick West's murder remains unsolved."

"Yeah? So far so good. It's been a year-"

Luke cut him off. "I don't like having Zoe here. I don't like having this FBI agent snooping around."

"What about the break-ins?"

"I just don't want any more trouble."

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to do what to stop it?"

But the line had gone dead. Teddy figured it must mean he was supposed to fill in the blanks for himself.

He tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. The boss had just upped the ante. Had to be. Keeping an eye on Zoe West didn't require any action or decision-mak-ing on Teddy's part. He just watched and reported back to Luke Castellane. But maintaining the status quo? Stopping her and Agent McGrath from kicking up dust? That could take work. Action. Crossing the line.

How he went about it, apparently, was his call.

Teddy turned toward the village and kept his truck under the speed limit. He didn't want to be stopped now, have one of Maine's finest get suspicious about his apple crate.

After a year in Gooseshit Harbor, he didn't know if he liked the idea that he might have to go as far as killing Zoe West to keep that weird bastard Luke happy.

But, nah. Teddy shook his head. He wouldn't have to kill her, maybe just beat her up a little.

The FBI agent he might have to kill.

Fifteen

Zoe sat on the porch with a pot of hot peppermint-lic-orice tea and wrapped herself in a red wool blanket that still smelled faintly of the rosemary-scented powder her aunt preferred. She listened to the ocean and the shorebirds and tried to stop shivering after her dunking in the harbor. It had been a good half hour, and she was still frozen.

The sun was behind the house now, off the water, the porch cool and shadowy, hinting at the short, dark winter days that were just around the corner.

"You Mainers." J.B. came around from the side porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He looked dark and warm, not as if he'd had to climb out of the freezing ocean. "Most people would sit by the fire after they took a spill in cold water."

"Frigid water. I'm out of practice." She held her mug with both hands, absorbing its heat. "You saw me?"

"All of Goose Harbor saw you."

"I'll never live it down. I was preoccupied, and the pilot of the speedboat was an idiot-" She sighed, vividly recalling the exact moment when she realized she was broadside to an enormous swell and going over. She glanced up at J.B. "Were you ready to come to my rescue?"

"Me and a couple of old ladies on a bus tour."

"I'd have blown my whistle if I were in real trouble."

"No, you wouldn't." He dropped onto a wooden rocker painted a dark green. "You'd have drowned or died of hypothermia before you admitted you needed help."

"Are you implying I'm stubborn?"

"Self-reliant to a fault, maybe. Proud, stubborn. Possibly overconfident." He rocked back, shrugging. "But that's only a guess. I'd have to be around you for an hour or two more before I could say for sure."

He looked windburned and rugged, as if he'd been going out to sea for years, as if he were born to it. But Zoe pushed back her attraction to him, her curiosity about him, as if they were something she could control.

"Still mad at me for talking to Teddy Shelton without your say-so?" She smiled. "I don't know if I'm insulted or amused."

"I ran into Bruce on the docks. He said he was hoping he'd get a chance to fish you out of the water, just to have something to hold over you for the rest of your lives. He blamed the speedboat. That was decent of him."

"It was accurate."

J.B. obviously had no intention of letting her off the hook. "Your mind wasn't on what you were doing. You know it wasn't."

There was no point arguing with him. He was already convinced he was right. Zoe drank more of her tea and finally felt a bit warmer. She wondered if her lips were still purple. She was shivering uncontrollably and still cursing her inattention when she got to the rocks below her aunt's house, then dragged herself and her kayak up the steep trail. She'd left her boat in the yard and made it upstairs to her room without collapsing from hypothermia, then peeled off her wet clothes and found an old bathrobe in her bedroom closet to put on.