“It’s Chloe,” Daria said.

“She must have stayed late at St. Esther’s.”

Chloe pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Daria and Rory watched her approach the porch steps, and she stopped in surprise at finding them there.

“Oh, hi,” she said. Her face was unsmiling, and Daria knew that was due to Rory’s presence. Chloe wished Rory had stayed in California.

But she took a seat on the steps next to Daria, anyway, and worked at a smile.

“How was dinner?” she asked.

“Great,” said Rory.

“Some terrific restaurants have opened up here in the last twenty years.”

“Yup,” Chloe agreed.

“You won’t go hungry.”

Chloe’s voice was flat, and Daria could almost feel her sister’s discomfort. It was more than Rory that was upsetting her. Daria put her hand on Chloe’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, but Chloe simply squeezed her hand in reassurance.

Rory didn’t seem to notice Chloe’s distress.

“I know you’re not thrilled with me pursuing this,” he said to her, “but you’re an important part of Shelly’s life, and I’d really like to get your opinion of how she ended up on the beach way back when.”

Daria cringed at Rory’s timing. He didn’t realize how much Chloe resented his intrusion on their lives.

Chloe leaned across Daria to rest her hand on Rory’s knee. She looked at him intently, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

“Rory, it just doesn’t matter how

Shelly turned up on the beach,” she said.

“I know you don’t understand. I know it doesn’t fit in with your plans for your show. I know you want the answer to be something dramatic, something you can uncover and expose. But it just isn’t important. Shelly was our gift from the sea. There’s nothing more we need to know.”

Chloe stood up. She squeezed Daria’s shoulder.

“Good night, you two,” she said. She stepped onto the screened porch and disappeared inside the cottage.

“Ouch,” Rory said once she had gone.

“I don’t think Chloe is very fond of me.”

“It’s not just you,” Daria said.

“It’s true she’s upset that you’re probing into Shelly’s life, but she seems withdrawn lately. I’m not certain what’s going on with her.”

“I’m sure I’m not helping,” Rory said.

“Well, she thinks you’re exploiting Shelly.”

“Is that what you think, too?” Rory asked.

“I think your intentions are honorable,” Daria said, “but I’m afraid your prying might do more harm than good.”

Rory was quiet a moment, and when he finally spoke there was exasperation in his voice.

“But Shelly, herself, wants me to” — “Shelly has lousy judgment, Rory,” Daria said. How many times did he have to hear that? She hesitated a moment, then the words slipped out of her mouth as though they had a will of their own. “Do you want to know why I’m not doing EMT work these days?” she asked.

“Do you want to know the truth?”

He said nothing, just looked at her, puzzled and waiting, and Daria shivered. The thought of telling him was both frightening and seductive.

Drawing in a breath, she pressed her clammy palms together and began to speak.

“A few months ago, I was working on a construction job at an old cottage near the beach, about half a mile from here,” she said.

“Pete was working with me, along with Andy Kramer, and this other guy, George. Andy and I were in the house, and Pete and George were outside. Pete suddenly came running into the house, yelling that there was a plane down in the water.”

She remembered running to the front door of the house to look out toward the beach. From where she’d stood, she had not been able to see the downed plane, only a few people running across the sand. She’d taken off her tool belt and dropped it on the floor as she headed out the door” Andy close on her heels.

“I’ll find a phone!” George had shouted as he ran toward the main highway. The cottage in which they’d been working was a summer rental, and since it was only April, the phone had not yet been hooked up.

Daria wasn’t able to see the plane until she reached the squat hill of sand marking the start of the beach. Even then, it had been hard to make out the plane’s shape or size. The sun was low in the sky behind her, reflecting off the water in sharp beams of blinding light.

Pete, already halfway to the water, turned to wave at them.

“It’s an air pig!” he shouted.

Good, Daria thought as she ran after him. If the pontoons weren’t damaged, they would keep the plane afloat. Otherwise, there was very little chance of recovering anyone alive.

People were gathering on the beach, most of them in street clothes, shivering as the evening air grew cooler. They pointed toward the plane, speaking to one another in excited voices. She and Andy pushed through the growing crowd.

“Did anyone call 9 II?” Daria called out.

Several people shouted that they had.

“I called from my cell phone,” a man standing near Daria said.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Just a few minutes,” the man said.

“Right after the plane hit the water. It just dropped out of the sky. I thought” -Daria didn’t wait to hear more. She ran up to Pete, who was standing at the water’s edge, squinting against the reflected sunlight as he stared at the plane.

“Ocean Rescue should be here in a few minutes,” she said. Ocean Rescue would have a boat. Without a boat, there was little they could do.

“We can’t wait a few minutes,” Pete said as he stripped off his shirt.

“It looks like one of the pontoons is damaged.”

Daria looked again at the plane, and this time she could see it was listing to one side. Someone—she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman—was pounding against one of the side windows, trying to get out.

“You can’t go out there,” Daria said, although she was thinking of going herself. The plane was not out that far, and she and Pete were both good swimmers.

“What if there’s fuel in the water?”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch” — “Hey! We’ve got a boat!”

Daria turned to see two boys dragging a boat across the sand by a rope. The boat was little more than a dinghy, but it would have to do until something more substantial came along.

“Great!” Pete said. He ran up to the boys, grabbed the rope from their hands and began tugging the boat toward the water. The tattooed muscles in his arms did not even appear to strain with the effort.

Andy and Daria helped him drag the boat into the water, and Daria was about to climb in when she saw the look of longing in Andy’s eyes. He wanted to help; he wanted to save lives.

“Come with us,” she said.

“We can use an extra pair of hands out there.”

Andy climbed into the boat and picked up the oars.

“I’ll row,” he said, and he began pulling against the water. Although he was slender, he was strong, and the craft cut easily through the breakers, heading toward the plane.

Daria looked back toward the beach to see if any of the rescue vehicles had arrived, but she could see only the thickening crowd of people—and Shelly. Shelly stood out from everyone else because of her height, her distinctive blond hair and the assertive way she pushed through the throng toward the water. She was wearing her wraparound skirt, and Daria watched as she untied it and let it fall onto the sand, then walked into the water. She was going to swim out to them!

“Shelly!” Daria called to her.

“Don’t come out! It’s too cold. There could be a fuel spill!”

She knew Shelly couldn’t hear her; the crackling of the waves drowned out every word. Pete heard her, though, and he looked behind them to see why she was yelling.

“Shelly’s in the water,” Daria called to him.

“What’s she doing out there?” Andy asked.

Pete glanced behind him toward the darkening water, then turned back to the front of the boat, but not before Daria had caught the look of disgust in his face. She knew what he was thinking.

It was a moment before she realized that another small boat was in the water, ten yards or so from them. Two men were in the boat, neither of whom she could recognize in the fading light, but she was relieved they were there. She glanced back to see Shelly only a short distance behind them, her smooth strokes propelling her through the water, and Daria felt a thrill of admiration at her sister’s grace and energy—despite her questionable judgment at coming into the water at all. If any fuel had spilled from the plane, it could bum her, or worse yet, ignite. But if the water was clear, they might be able to use Shelly’s help.

The two boats came together as they neared the plane.

“Ocean Rescue’s tied up in the inlet,” a man in the second boat said.

“Capsized fishing vessel. Don’t know when they’ll get here.”

The boats glided close to the plane, and the situation became instantly, painfully clear. There were two women in the back seat of the plane. One was unconscious, a cut on her temple, blood spilling over her ear. The other woman was screaming, pounding on the window, begging them to release her from the plane. The door next to the pilot had been ripped off by the force of the crash, and the pilot appeared to be unconscious. At first, Daria thought the pilot was a man. All of them did. A man who was twisted somehow in the front seat, his body contorted at an angle, his head bent forward, long dark hair covering his face. Daria was not sure he was alive.

Pete struggled with the pilot’s seat belt.

“He’s got a pulse,” he called over his shoulder to Daria and Andy.

“But I can’t get him out.

Let’s go for the passengers first. “

If they’d had a tool, even a crowbar, extricating the passengers would have been easy, since the skin of the plane was thin and pliable. But they only had their bare hands and the oars to use, and although the sea was calm, the bobbing of the plane and boats made the work difficult.