"Not well. I don't keep tabs on him. Jesus, loosen up, you two. You look like a couple of kick-ass cops."

J.B.'s intensity was palpable. Zoe expected it had something to do with his phone call. She knew what he was doing-checking names with a cooperative source in Washington.

Bruce took a big gulp of his beer. "That bull's-eye doesn't count, McGrath. It's not your turn. So, what's the deal? You spending another night at Olivia's?"

Zoe gritted her teeth. The two of them, she thought. "If anyone asks, tell them he's my houseguest."

"People are starting to think you two knew each other from before-"

"Don't start with me, Bruce."

He grinned at her. "Touchy, touchy. I guess it's just as well McGrath didn't end up camping out on your boat, in case someone forgot it's my boat and tossed in a Molotov cocktail."

"Bruce!" Zoe was lining up her darts on a nearby table but thought she might take one and throw it at him. "That's no way to talk."

He was unrepentant. "J.B. knows I'm kidding, right, J.B.? An alert, trained federal agent-someone tries to torch your boat with you in it, you'd go overboard and catch the bad guys before dawn."

J.B. had his remaining darts neatly folded into hispalm. "I'd keep that in mind should the pyromaniac in you decide to come out."

"No pyro in me. I don't even like lighting the grill."

Although technically it still wasn't his turn, J.B. threw another dart in a move that was smooth and destined not to make him any friends. It didn't hit the bull's-eye but struck close to it. Zoe didn't know much about dart scoring, but he seemed satisfied. He stood back, fingering another dart, which, despite her best efforts, struck her as sexual.

"I should check in with Chris and see if Kyle turned up."

"It's dark," Bruce said. "He should have finished his filming by now."

"When did you see him last?" Zoe asked.

"Couple hours ago. I guess he must want film of an old-time Maine lobster pound for background. I don't have a lot of faith in this documentary."

J.B. laid his two remaining darts on the table next to Zoe's. "Rain check, Bruce. Or you can win by default." "I'll take the rain check. I want to beat your ass fair and square, McGrath."

But Zoe knew Bruce's heart wasn't in it-he liked playing darts. He didn't give a damn about winning. He'd never been particularly competitive. She sometimes thought that if he'd been more assertive, Christina might have realized he was serious about her, not just joking around.

As they left, J.B. took such long strides across the bar that Zoe practically had to run to keep up with him. She was sore from kayaking, tired from getting dunked and on edge from everything that had gone on since Christina had first called her about someone breaking into her house.

And taking nothing, Zoe thought. Hurting no one.

It was something to keep in mind. She could be on edge more because she was back home for the first time in a year, not because of any real dangers-or perhaps because of J.B., his intensity, her reaction to him.

The temperature had dropped precipitously, a taste of winter in the cold, clear night air. It was fully dark now, the stars and sliver of a moon sparkling over the harbor.

A beautiful day, now a beautiful, freezing night. With a shiver, Zoe climbed into McGrath's Jeep. She was aware of how close he was. What if Stick was right and he was more out of control than she thought? What if she was letting herself get caught up in his need to find a new adrenaline rush to give himself an excuse not to have to confront his demons? She knew what that was like.

But she didn't think that was what was going on, at least not entirely.

"I assume we're going to check on Kyle," she said. "Do you know the way?"

He gave a curt nod.

He drove faster than seemed necessary to her. She borrowed his cell phone to check with Christina-no Kyle. Her sister had tried his apartment and his father's yacht, but no sign of him. She wanted to call the police. Zoe reported what Bruce had said about seeing Kyle at the lobster pound.

"You're going out there? It's dark, Zoe. He can't be there, unless-" She stopped herself. "I know I'm thinking the worst because of the break-ins. It's all just so creepy."

"Chris, if you don't want to be alone, call Stick or Bruce or someone."

"I'll be fine. Let me know, okay?"

Even with the windows closed, Zoe could smell the low tide as J.B. pulled into the small dirt lobster-pound lot. Bruce's cottage was next to it, through a tangle of small brush and trees on the south side, then, bordering the cottage, a hundred acres of sprawling, state-pro-tected salt marsh and sand beach. Zoe hoped Kyle hadn't gone wandering and gotten himself lost out there. It'd be morning for sure before they found him.

J.B. shut off his headlights. The area was dark and quiet, no sign of Kyle or his black BMW. Zoe rolled down her window and listened, hearing only the gentle lapping of the water as the tide started to come up again. The air was downright frigid, and she half wished she'd brought her parka.

She rolled up her window. "We should check with Shelton. Maybe he's seen Kyle."

J.B. sighed. "He could be at Perry's by now, trying to figure out how to tell Christina he got carried away with his documentary and stood her up."

"And she'll forgive him, you know." Zoe looked out at the stars sparkling on the expanse of dark water. "Well, maybe she should. I admit I've never been fond of the Castellanes. You've only seen Luke around town? You havn't met him?"

"That's right." "My aunt was more tolerant of his quirks than I ever have been, not that I've had that much to do with him."

J.B. still didn't move his Jeep. "What about your father?"

"He stayed neutral. ‘Luke is what he is,' he'd say." Zoe pointed to a stand of trees, a blackish-purple silhouette against the ambient light of the stars and moon. "There's a shortcut to the cottage over by those trees. It's not much of a road, but your Jeep can handle it."

J.B. started up the Jeep's engine again. The shortcut was, in fact, just a rutted strip of sand, marsh grass and gravel, but the Jeep bounced over it without a problem and came to a stop behind the cottage. Its back-door light was on, but Teddy Shelton's truck was gone-and, again, there was no sign of Kyle or his BMW.

Zoe pushed open her door and stood out on the dirt driveway, the cold air impossible to ignore. She shivered. "Maybe Shelton decided to take off after he had both of us sneaking up on him."

J.B. got out. "I thought you just saw him by accident." She smiled over the Jeep roof at him. "I did. I'll go knock on the door-"

"Hang on."

But she didn't wait for him. She trotted up the back steps and peered through the back door's cracked window. She tried the knob. "It's not locked. Bruce knows we're out here. He'd expect me to make sure nothing's wrong and the place is secure." Bruce wouldn't give a damn if the place spontaneously combusted, but Zoe wanted an excuse to go inside.

J.B. mounted the steps behind her. He nodded. "Go."

His mood was so serious and grim, Zoe wouldn't have been surprised if he drew his weapon. But he didn't, and she pushed on the door. It stuck, and she had to put her shoulder to it to get it to budge.

She reached along the paneled wall to her right and flipped the switch for the overhead fluorescent in the galley kitchen. It slowly flickered on. "Looks like no one's home," she said.

Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, and a halfplayed game of clock solitaire was laid out on the table. Without a word, J.B. checked the back bedroom and the bathroom and returned in less than a minute, still grim-faced. "Nothing. Bed's unmade, used towels on the bathroom floor. No personal items or a suitcase or backpack."

"Maybe Shelton did clear out. That's not a good development."