“Agreed,” Carter said. She didn’t actually anticipate intercepting any of the drug shipments coming in on private yachts and sailboats because her team wasn’t interested in that level of distribution. They wanted a shot at Alfonse Pareto, and they were hoping his daughter would give it to them. But that was the vital piece of information she did not intend to share with Nelson Parker and Reese Conlon. “So, we’re agreed. If something comes up, I’ll clue you in.” She looked from Nelson to Reese. “I don’t want to come back to the station again. Which of you should I call?”

“Let’s make Conlon your official contact,” Nelson said. “She’ll keep me advised.”

“Done.” Carter stood. Conlon, she noted as the other officer stood, was just about her height. “Is there a back way out of here?”

“I’ll take her out through the rear holding area,” Reese said to Nelson.

“Okay, then head home.” Nelson watched them go, two wary allies, and unconsciously unwrapped another Tums.

Reese waited by the Blazer, watching Carter walk away down the sandy path at the rear of the parking lot toward the Grand Union with its large parking lot half a block up the street. She’d probably left her Explorer there and come around to the sheriff’s department on foot. No one would notice her coming and going. Her story was plausible, but Reese didn’t believe it. No one invested the kind of money and time and training it would take to put an experienced investigator undercover on the off chance that she might stumble on a few shipments of drugs coming into an out-of-the-way port. Reese believed there probably were drugs coming in through the harbor, and she intended to have a talk with the harbormaster about it. She also intended to step up the patrols along the wharf, especially at night. But mostly, she planned on watching Carter Wayne.

Reese checked the time. It was the middle of the afternoon, and she was supposed to be at home asleep. Now she was awake and unaccountably restless. She could go to the dojo and train for a while. That always settled her, helped her find her balance. There was only one thing in her life that centered her more.

Minutes later she pulled into the gravel parking lot in front of the East End Health Clinic. At least a dozen cars were parked in front of the low white building, and for a minute, she contemplated backing out and driving away. But she’d been fighting the feeling for weeks that she was running out of time, and all she needed was a minute.

The front door led directly into the waiting room, and it was crowded as it always was, no matter the time. Reese threaded her way between haphazardly placed chairs, the occasional child crawling on the floor, and aluminum walkers. Randy, the handsome blond receptionist, had a phone tucked between his shoulder and ear and was scowling at a computer screen as he typed. Reese took advantage of his attention being elsewhere and sidled around the counter toward the hallway that led back to her lover’s office.

When Randy called, “Don’t you dare go back there,” Reese laughed and kept going. Tory’s office was empty, as Reese expected, considering how many patients were in the waiting room. The examining rooms must be full. She went to the large walnut desk that was crowded with file folders, several cups of cold coffee, and a cluster of silver-framed photos on one corner. She smiled at the pictures of Reggie, from newborn right up until the past weekend when they’d taken her out on the ferry for the first time. She looked just like Tory, with red highlights in her golden brown hair and eyes that were blue or green depending on the color of the sky and the water. Reese found a pad and pen and was about to write a note when she heard a sound behind her. She straightened and turned.

Tory stood in the doorway in a white lab coat, blue jeans, and a yellow cotton shirt. She wore sneakers and a light plastic splint on her damaged right ankle. She had a file in one hand and a quizzical smile on her face.

“Sweetheart?” Tory said. “Aren’t you supposed to be home asleep?”

“That was my plan before Nelson called me in for an unscheduled meeting. Kate’s got the baby.”

Tory closed the door and dropped the file folder onto the middle of her desk. Then she leaned her hip against the edge. “But you’re done now?”

Reese nodded.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just…” Reese realized that Tory was in the middle of an incredibly busy day and there was nothing she could tell her that would make any sense. Because all she had were vague feelings and uneasy premonitions, things that were completely beyond her realm of experience. All her life she had been taught to deal with the realities of the moment, to stay focused on the events that she could influence by her actions and reactions. Life was a series of choices, and the wrong ones could mean your life. She didn’t deal in what ifs, only in what was. Burdening Tory with worries she couldn’t even frame in words would be selfish. “I was just going to tell you that Reggie was with Kate.”

“You want me to pick her up later?” Tory asked, still confused.

Reese cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Call me at home when you’re done. I’ll probably have picked her up already, but if not, we can figure something out then.” She hesitated, then kissed Tory again, slowly this time, memorizing her taste. “See you at home.” She was almost to the door before Tory called her name.

“Reese?”

Reese turned and looked back.

“Was there something else, sweetheart?”

“No,” Reese said softly. “Just wanted an excuse to say hi.”

“You never need an excuse. See you later.”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”

Chapter Four

Rica slowed her Lexus on the far west end of Bradford Street and turned right onto a narrow private road that twisted up to a wooded crest. She passed several houses partially secluded by trees and dunes before pulling into the driveway behind her new home. Carrying the groceries she’d picked up on the way, she navigated the flagstone walkway in the gathering dusk. There was no sound other than the distant cries of seagulls and the murmur of the waves to-ing and fro-ing over the sand and stones. Balancing the bags on her hip, she unlocked her door and reflected that while true privacy was impossible to attain in a popular resort town where space was limited, she had come close. She’d managed to find a place where, when she sat on the deck outside her living room and looked out over the salt marshes to the bay beyond, she could almost believe she was alone. And that was exactly what she wanted.

She couldn’t walk away from her life, even had she wanted to, and it wasn’t a matter of how far away she went. Her father and his enterprises were a two-hour drive away, less than a half hour on one of the ten-passenger, two-engine planes that flew regularly from the tiny airport at Race Point. Still, she had managed to extract herself from the gallery in SoHo, and that was a start.

Leaning on the black and gold flecked granite counter in her shiny new kitchen, Rica watched another spectacular sunset through the window, aching with the beauty of it. She recognized the poignant sadness in her heart that echoed the deep blues and purples of the sky as loneliness, but accepted that as the cost of her freedom. Here at least, she was not guarded ever-so-politely by men with guns, not the inadvertent witness to events she did not want to be a part of, and not the object of speculative desire from men and women alike who viewed her as an attractive means to an end. She was not reminded by daily interaction with her father that he regarded her as his heir, whether she sought the position or not.

The phone rang, interrupting her prized solitude, and Rica gave a murmur of displeasure. She hadn’t made any acquaintances in town yet, so it had to be the other part of her life exerting its hold on her. For a second, she contemplated not answering, then shook her head and picked up the phone. She’d never known a problem to be solved by ignoring it.

“Hello?”

“Ricarda?” her father said in his deep rumbling baritone. “How is the new house?”

Rica imagined him in his study, a thick cigar held lightly between his long, powerful fingers, a contemplative expression on his hard, dark, handsome face as he watched the smoke swirl and dissipate in the air. “It’s fine, Papa. I can see the bay from almost every window. It’s beautiful.”

“I remember the first time you saw the ocean. You went running right in until the water was over your head. Your mama was screaming and I had to pull you out. You were laughing when I dragged you to the surface.”

A deep sigh came through the phone to her.

“You were fearless. Always fearless. Do you remember?”

“I remember, Papa.” She’d been two, if that, and the memory was fuzzy, but she remembered sunshine, and warm sand, and the shining blue water stretching forever. Her memories of her mother were less distinct than that of the ocean. She had fleeting images of swirling black hair, warm dark eyes, and gentle hands. It hadn’t been long thereafter when her mother had been killed in a car accident on a rainy night on her way home from their summer home in the Berkshires. “You were right, I’m part fish. It feels good to be near the water again.”

“There’s plenty of water in Boston.”

Rica said nothing. They’d had this discussion before. Her father did not understand why, if she wasn’t going to live in New York City and run the gallery, she didn’t come home. After all, Ricarda, once you marry, you will be living here anyhow. Why move twice? When she’d tried to explain to him yet again that she was not interested in marriage, he waved his hand dismissively, as he did with any problem not worthy of his time. We all think that way when we are young, cara mia, but you will change your mind soon enough.