Another hour went by before a pickup truck rattled down the path. Its headlights caught me straight on, and I got to my feet, waving broadly as the driver brought the car to a stop and stepped out, pointing a flashlight at me.

"You okay?" a man's voice called out as he raised his hand over his brow to peer out at me.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said. "It's Alex Cooper. Kenny-that you?"

"Yes'm. You tied up in here? You got a prob-? Jeez, Alex-you look like you been out in this storm all night."

Kenny Bainter's family had been on the island for six generations. He fished and farmed-swordfish and sheep-and had known me for a very long time.

He turned back to the truck and pulled a blanket out of the cab. I followed behind and let him wrap it around my shoulders while my teeth clacked and chattered against each other.

"You fall in the water or something?" he went on.

"No, no," I said, shaking my head. "Someone-someone broke into my house during the storm. I-uh-I ran down here to get away. I was hoping you could drive me to the Chilmark police."

"Who the hell was it, Alex? Some kids looking to give you a fright? I'll go back there with you and we'll-"

"Let's not do that. It wasn't kids, I promise you." Most of the islanders who knew me as a summer person couldn't connect me to the frontline prosecutorial position that carried with it all the attendant dangers of urban violence. I didn't think Kenny would understand that the intruder had been, in all probability, someone who wanted to kill me.

"Well, let's go get the son of-"

"Can you just drive me over to the station? That's really all I need."

"That and somethin' dry to put on, missy. I can't be driving you there. Storm knocked some power lines down and the Crossroads is all blocked off. Made a mess of it up here. Tell you what. Let me check on a few of the little stinkpots I get paid to baby-sit here, and then we can bail one if it's not dry and I'll zip you across the pond. How's that?"

"You think it's safe to go out?" I said, looking back at the surface of the water.

"Be calm as a bathtub in half an hour. Storm's way out over the Atlantic by now. Get up there in the truck and turn on some heat."

"Let me help you, Kenny," I said lamely as I watched him step into the shallow water wearing hip-waders.

"I seen scarecrows be better help than you, Alex. Go on and dry off."

Several small powerboats were upended on the beach, large gashes cut into their hulls. There were lots of damaged craft, and some that had broken loose completely and were bobbing about farther out in the pond. Barrels and buoys, nets and rope, were all strewn around the ground. But Kenny was right about how gently the waves were now lapping against the rocky shoreline.

When he had finished checking everything, he unwrapped the tarpaulin cover off a small rubber Zodiac that he must have dragged to safety and tethered to a metal post on land before the storm hit. He led it back into the water and lowered the engine over the side.

"C'mon, missy. Have you there in five minutes."

I kept the blanket wrapped around me and stepped onto the dock, lowering myself over the bumpers and sitting on the edge of the little vessel, clinging to the handles on either side of me.

The night sky was still covered with clouds, but as we chugged along into the main body of the pond, I could make out the distinctive red-shingled roof of the old coast guard station, which now housed the local police. I knew they had a generator, and their lights were the only ones in town working, as far as I could see.

Kenny steered the small dinghy alongside the dock at the Homeport restaurant and started to tie her up. I stood and climbed the ladder that reached down to the water as soon as we touched against it. "No need to come," I said. "I owe you, Kenny. I'll make it up to you."

"You don't owe me anything. Just dry that blanket off and get it back to me. It's what keeps my dog warm when he rides around with me all winter."

"Well, tell him I'm grateful for the loan." I blew him a kiss and made a beeline for the station, just a hundred yards away.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

The clock on the wall behind the officer's head reminded me that it was one-thirty in the morning.

"Chip? It's me. Alex Cooper."

He did a double take. "What hit you?"

"I'll tell you everything as soon as I'm out of this gear. You got any women officers here? Someone who might have some dry civvies in a locker?" I spread my arms to unfold the blanket so he could see the condition of my clothes.

"Just a minute. Wait here." Chip Streeter went up to the second floor and came back a few minutes later with another tan-uniformed officer-a young woman who was shorter and heavier than I. She was carrying a pair of chinos and a plaid flannel shirt, which looked better to me at that moment than the entire spring couture line of Escada.

She led me to a bathroom, apologized for not having clean underwear to give me, but handed me paper toweling and a new toothbrush so I could clean myself up.

When I had finished the job, I went back out to sit at Streeter's desk. I described to him what had happened at the house a few hours earlier, during the storm.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?"

I bit my lip. "My imagination isn't that good. Have you got someone to take me home to check it out?"

"Like Kenny told you, we can't get through up that way by car. When the harbormaster gets on duty in the morning, he'll give us a boat to head on over. All my guys are out on calls on the North Road as it is. Hell of a lot of property damage, and we're checking on some of the seniors to make sure nobody's hurt or got any kind of medical emergency without power. Break-ins are taking a backseat right now. Anyone off-island you want to call?"

I shook my head. "Mind if I stay here till morning?"

"I'll brag about this for a long time to come. Only police officer in Dukes County to have a prosecutor in residence. Wouldn't have it any other way. We've got a couple of cots upstairs if you want to stretch out until daybreak."

I ached to close my eyes and be in a safe place. "Is it too much to ask for milk and cookies?"

Chip smiled at me and led me up to the small locker room. I thanked him and stretched out on the narrow bed, tucking Kenny's dog's blanket around my body.

I tossed fitfully for most of the remaining hours of the night, getting up to brush my teeth and try to give some direction to my hair a little after six-thirty in the morning. Sunlight was streaming in the window and reflecting off the water's bright blue surface. By the time I got downstairs, a fresh pot of coffee was brewing on the hot plate and two other cops had reported in for duty.

I introduced myself and asked for Chip.

"Gone up to your place to look around," one of the guys told me. "Somebody picking up lobster pots from the pond ran him over there. Asked to have you wait here for him."

I sat on a bench in front of the station, sipping my coffee. I could even make out my house on the hilltop across the way. Within the hour, Chip Streeter walked up the driveway, a clipboard swinging in his left hand, and what looked like a pair of my rain boots in the other. I stood to greet him.

"You find anything?"

"Sure looks like Bigfoot was roaming around up there."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to alarm you too much, but you weren't exaggerating the least bit. There's some impressions in front of the house, going off to the right, that must be your feet. Something with a soft bottom, no ridges?"

I stuck out my foot and showed him the plain sole of my suede moccasin. I nodded my head. That was the direction from which I'd left to go down to the cottage.

"But there's a set of footprints-I guess 'bootprints' is a better word-that circles the entire house. Firm and deep in the mud-"