“They look scary,” she said.

“Just from the outside,” I said. “The good stuff is inside the shell.”

“Can I try?” she asked. I was impressed. Most little kids tended to shy away from unfamiliar foods, certainly from anything that looked like crab legs. I looked at Julie, and she shrugged. I removed a small piece of meat and put it on Betsy’s plate. She speared it with her fork and put it in her mouth without hesitation.

“It’s good! ” she exclaimed a moment later. “Let’s get more crab’s legs!”

So we got more crab legs. And that girl could eat. I guess she hadn’t been kidding about her appetite on the drive to the docks. We polished off two orders between us. Julie helped only slightly, content to stick with her shrimp for the most part.

“I think she ate her weight in crab,” I said when we were done, and Julie laughed.

“She eats like a teenage boy, but somehow she stays tiny.”

“Take her into a lab and ask them to find a way to distribute her metabolism in a pill or something,” I suggested. “You could make a fortune.”

We drove back to the hotel as the sun set behind us. The beach was nearly empty now, save for a few walkers and one group of kids playing with a Frisbee. The night air was still warm, though. We went up to the room, and Julie and Betsy played board games while I read the newspaper and tried calling Joe. I made several calls without receiving an answer. It was frustrating to know he had a cell phone and just didn’t bother to take it with him or keep the battery charged. You can take an old cop to higher technology, but you can’t make him remember it.

Around nine, Betsy went to bed. I was sitting out on the balcony then, and I’d taken my gun out and tucked it against the wall behind me. Betsy stepped out, surprising me, and I moved my foot quickly, trying to hide the weapon from view. She held out her arms.

“Goodnight hug,” she said. She hugged me, and I patted her little back, feeling very strange. I wasn’t the type of guy who gave many goodnight hugs, but if she sensed that, she didn’t care. I had to admit I was somewhat pleased she’d wanted one.

“Don’t forget my ice cream,” she said as she went inside. “I beat you.”

“I won’t forget,” I said.

Twenty minutes later, Julie joined me. She noticed the gun, but she didn’t comment on it.

“We need to talk,” she said.

I nodded. “That would probably be a good idea.”

She dropped into the plastic chair beside me. “What do you think I should do, Lincoln? I’m so scared, and so confused. But I know we can’t keep this up. We need to take some sort of action instead of just delaying.”

I told her about my conversations with Joe and Amy and about Yuri Belov.

“Amy thinks you should let her write the story,” I said. “She thinks if everything was made public, it would eliminate the threat you pose to some people.”

She leaned forward, interested. “What do you think of that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a cure-all. To the Russians, it will probably just be added motivation. As far as Jeremiah Hubbard is concerned, it might be pretty powerful, though. He’s a well-known public figure, and he cares about image.” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair and sighed. None of the solutions looked too promising.

“I’d normally urge you to go straight to the police,” I said. “But my partner feels Hubbard might have some pretty powerful sources there. If we rush into that, it could work out badly.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I still suggest the police, actually, but we need to approach them carefully. What we need to do is select a trustworthy, high-level police source and go there with your story. And we need to explain our concerns about Hubbard’s influence and connections.”

“I don’t want to go into witness protection,” she said softly.

I nodded. “I know that. And I can help you disappear on your own if that’s the route you decide to take. I can probably find some people who know how to do that awfully well, in fact. But witness protection isn’t the biggest issue here, Julie. Your husband was murdered, and so was Randy Hartwick. People need to be brought to justice for that. You can’t leave everyone wondering about you and your daughter, either, and you sure as hell can’t leave them suspecting you were murdered by your own husband. I can’t allow that to happen to John Weston.”

It was a stronger speech than I’d expected to give, but I meant every bit of it. Last night I’d been so startled by finding Julie Weston and so unnerved by Cody’s apparent connection to Hubbard that I’d needed some time to think the situation out. But there was clearly only one solution, and that was using Julie’s testimony and knowledge to bring about justice. Now it was my job to see that it was done, and that she and her daughter remained safe while it was done.

“I was hired by your father-in-law,” I said. “My duty to him is to explain what happened to his family the night his son was murdered. I intend to fulfill that obligation. But I’ve given myself a second duty now, and that’s keeping you and Betsy safe.” I leaned forward and took her hand in mine. “I will keep you safe.”

She smiled and squeezed my hand before I released hers. “I haven’t felt truly safe for a while now, but somehow I believe you. And you’re right. I have to talk to the police, or the FBI, or whoever. But shouldn’t we go back to Cleveland for that? I don’t really like the idea of going to police here in South Carolina who have no idea what’s been going on.”

“I was going to suggest returning to Cleveland. It’s definitely the place to get started.”

I expected her to say more about the interviews and testimony to come, but instead she looked up at the sky and sighed.

“The moon’s still beautiful. Another beautiful night in general. Do you know what it must be like in Cleveland tonight?”

“About the same,” I said. “There might be some frost on the palm trees by morning, though.”

She laughed and looked down at the pool. “Oh, that whirlpool looks inviting. I’d love to sneak back down.”

“Go for it. I’ll stay here and watch Betsy.”

“She doesn’t need much watching. She’s sound asleep. You could set fireworks off in there and she wouldn’t budge.” She stood, leaned back against the balcony railing, and studied me. “Let’s go down for half an hour, at least.”

I started to say I wasn’t comfortable leaving the girl alone, but the thought died someone between my brain and my lips, smothered by the realization that I could see Julie in her swimsuit again if I went along with the suggestion.

“Why not?” I said. “Just half an hour.”

Five minutes later we locked the room behind us and went downstairs. Julie was wearing the same black two-piece swimsuit she’d had on the night before, and she looked amazing.

I turned the jets on, and we shed our towels and settled into the warm water. The breeze was there just as it had been the night before, as was the moon, and from all sensory perspectives the experience felt identical to the previous night. From a mental perspective, though, it felt as if months had passed since then.

“Wow, that feels good,” Julie said, putting her back against one of the jets. “I could never have one of these things in my home, though. I’d never be able to leave it.”

“I think I could take one,” I said. “A half hour a night in this would reduce my stress level by a factor of ten.”

We made small talk for a while and then fell silent, each with our own thoughts. I’d brought the cell phone to the edge of the water with me, and I found myself glancing at it, wishing Joe would call. He and Kinkaid had been planning on pursuing more information about the Russians in the afternoon, and I hadn’t heard from him since. I didn’t like that. I also wanted to tell him about Yuri Belov.

While I was busy thinking about Joe, I suddenly became aware of a soft, gentle sobbing beside me. I looked down at Julie and realized she was crying.