Christina blanched. "What happened?"

J.B. said nothing. Too much Chianti or not, Stick Monroe knew he was out of line.

"He had his throat slit. Not all the way, obviously, but here-" He pointed at J.B. with his glass. "You can see the scar."

"Stick," Zoe said. "For God's sake-"

He kept his attention on Christina. "I told your sister yesterday. I told her to take a look-I should be more careful of the advice I give her, shouldn't I? I'm talking out of school, of course, but so be it." He shifted his gaze to J.B., any warmth gone from the older man's eyes. "That's why you're on vacation, isn't it? Because you needed a break. You killed your attacker. Ferocious, hand-to-hand combat. It must have been terrible."

He waited, but J.B. wasn't playing this game. The man needed to go home and sleep it off.

"Unfortunately, the attacker's young children witnessed the whole thing." Stick paused, letting the stem of his glass slide between his fingers. His voice was deceptively sincere, filled with the horror of what he must have supposed J.B. had seen and done. "No wonder you were compelled to take some time off."

Zoe reached over and plucked Stick's glass from him. "No more Chianti for you. Next you'll be giving away state secrets."

The old judge shrugged without apology. "My point is-"

"I know what your point is, Stick. You want me to be careful. Thank you. I get it."

"You always were a quick study." He didn't seem bothered by Zoe's tart reaction to what he had to say- bluntness was obviously a part of their long friendship. "I meant no offense, J.B., but can you honestly say you trust your own judgment right now?"

J.B. broke his silence. "About what? Whether to order haddock chowder or crab cakes for lunch?" He refused to let Monroe provoke him. "I chose crab cakes today. Christina makes good crab cakes, don't you think, Judge?"

He didn't tell J.B. to go to hell but rose, rocking slightly on his feet, and smiled coolly. "Yes. Absolutely. Christina makes the best crab cakes in Maine. Pay no attention to me, J.B. I've had too much Chianti, and all I'm good for these days is gardening advice. Fortunately, I love it." Then he added, smiling, gentleman-like, "Gardening, that is, not giving advice."

He thanked Christina for the Chianti and kissed her and Zoe on the cheek, then gave J.B. a polite nod and headed out. He'd walked. No surprise, since he walked everywhere.

Once he was gone, Christina groaned loudly. "Well, J.B., I'll bet you're just thrilled we found out you're an FBI agent. Too bad you're not working an undercover operation. Then none of us would know. You'd have us convinced you were a lobsterman from up north."

Zoe bit back a smile. "Never. We'd have exposed him in a heartbeat."

"Christina thinks I could pass for a Maine lobsterman," J.B. said.

"It'd be easier for you to pass as-what did Stick call them?" Christina paused a moment, obviously pretending she had to think to remember. "Violent, gun-toting lunatics. How'd you blend into that crowd?"

"Your friend Stick knows I can't go into operational details," J.B. said. "He shouldn't have said anything."

Christina, who seemed to have a slightly off-center but cheerful view of life, made a face. "Does that mean we're going to be handcuffed and gagged and carted out of here in the dead of night?"

Zoe groaned. "My sister has strange ideas about law enforcement, never mind that our father was the police chief for thirty years and I was a state detective. Makes no difference. She gets her facts from movies."

"Serpico," Christina said. "It's one of Kyle's favorites."

It was getting dark and the temperature was falling, but the West sisters were intent on eating outside provided it didn't snow. They went about bringing out supper and turned down J.B.'s offer to help. Christina brought him a glass of iced tea, and he thought about their encounter with Judge Monroe. J.B. saw it differently than the two women did. To them, Stick was speaking out of school because he trusted them and had gotten too far into the Chianti. To J.B., the judge had acted deliberately-it was why he'd shown up. He thought J.B. was a disaster waiting to happen. He wanted J.B. to understand that Steven Stickney Monroe, retired U.S. district court judge, would be looking out for Christina and Zoe West.

Not that they'd asked him to or needed him to but it wasn't a bad thing to have a powerful friend.

"You didn't happen to see Kyle on your way here, did you?" Christina asked as she set a salad bowl on the table.

J.B. shook his head. "No, was he planning to join you?"

"I invited him. I just called his cell phone, but no answer." She seemed put out, not worried, and let the screened back door bang hard behind her when she returned to the kitchen.

Zoe stared at the shut door and sighed. "That bas-tard's going to break her heart."

"Relax, big sister. If he does, Christina will handle it."

"I know." But she sighed again, more deeply. "At least I hope so. She still seems so young to me. I wasn't there for her when she needed me after Dad and Aunt Olivia died. Then I took off for Connecticut."

"Sometimes you have to save yourself."

She didn't answer. J.B. was aware of her mood slipping, noted that the pink color of her sweater seemed out of place amid the burgundy and orange leaves, but maybe she wanted it that way-maybe she didn't want to quite fit in around here. Keep her distance. Avoid getting sucked back into the vortex that had gripped her last fall.

"Anyone ever break your heart, Detective West?" he asked.

She glanced at him, a glint of humor sparking in her pretty eyes. "There was this organic farmer in Connecticut-"

He didn't let her finish, didn't let her use humor to deflect him. "You keep that heart of yours where no one can touch it, don't you? At least you try.You had it ripped out of you last year. You must have felt very exposed."

"I still do." Her voice cracked, and she had to clear her throat. "I don't trust myself, never mind anyone else."

"Some people say that's where it starts, you know. With learning to trust ourselves again."

"Do you? Do you trust yourself? After what you went through this summer?"

"I trust myself with some things. Not all."

"With me?"

He hadn't expected that. He wondered if she could see that she'd caught him off guard, but probably she did-probably she'd planned it that way. She was an experienced detective. She knew how to interview people.

Christina banged out of the house again, and Zoe shot off to help her finish getting dinner on the table, as if she regretted her question and didn't trust herself one little bit around him.

Dinner was grilled chicken, salad, rolls from the café and warm apple crisp. J.B., feeling lazy, insisted at least on refilling the two sisters' wineglasses.

Christina was still obsessing on Kyle's absence. "He must have got caught up in working on his documentary. He was filming background scenes today. The harbor, the library, the lobster pound, other places around town. Just getting a feel for what it all looks like on tape."

"Maybe he lost track of time," Zoe said.

"He wants to do a good job. He knows he can't get by on the Castellane name. In fact, the critics will probably be tougher on him because of it. Of course, he says he's not thinking about that sort of thing now-he's just thinking about the work itself." She smiled, but J.B. could see she was hurt her boyfriend hadn't shown up or called. "I'm sure you're right, Zoe. He hyperfocuses. That must be what it is."

Zoe sat back in her chair, the early evening shadows flickering on her face. "He's serious about this documentary, isn't he?"

"That's what I've been telling you. He says he wouldn't dare touch Aunt Olivia's life if he wasn't se-rious-she'd haunt him."