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of half in, half out of sleep for a while. Finally, when I realized that I was not likely to fall back to sleep, I went into the kitchen and got a beer out of the cooler, took it out on the deck and pulled up a chair. Watched the stars. Breathed deeply. Felt glad to be there.”
    “Please”—she touched his arm—“maybe if you described it to me, maybe I could try to see what you saw that night.”
    “There was a light at the top of the tower. At first I thought I was mistaken, because it was bigger and brighter than a lantern like the one Ry has. And then about ten minutes later, I saw Ry’s lantern light going up the steps.”
    “You’re assuming that the second light was Ry’s?”
    “I am. And it was his light that I saw come backwarddown the steps. The lantern was next to him on the ground when I arrived.”
    “When you got to the lighthouse, where was the first light—the one you first saw at the top of the tower?”
    “Gone. There was no light when I got there except for Ry’s.”
    India digested this for a moment before asking, “But you’re positive there had been one?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You said there was maybe ten minutes between the time that you saw the first light and when you saw the second light … Ry’s light?”
    “Yes.”
    “I know that all of this is in the police report, but I can’t help it—I have to ask, Nick. It’s what I do—question people about crimes. I’m trying very hard not to sound as if I’m interrogating you.”
    “I understand. Ry told me you were good at what you do. He bragged about you all the time. About how many convictions you’ve gotten. He was very proud of you.”
    “I was very proud of him.” India twisted the small sapphire ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand. “It is very difficult for me to accept that he is gone, Nick. And harder still that there’s no way of knowing what happened there that night. It’s just so frustrating. I guess I think if I look hard enough, I’ll find something.”
    “Indy?” A voice called from the other side of the screen door.
    “Yes?” India turned toward it.
    “Your cousin Blake is here. Your aunt would like you to please come in.” Patsy Carpenter opened the door and stuck her broad face out. “Oh. Hello, Nick.”
    “Hello, Patsy.”
    “Indy …”
    “I’ll be right in. Thank you.”
    The screen door closed softly.
    “I’d like to finish this conversation sometime later. That is, if it’s all right with you.”
    “Of course.” He watched her unfold from her seat on the opposite side of the porch swing and stood up as she did.
    “At your convenience.”
    “I just need to know , Nick.”
    “I understand completely, India.” He watched the afternoon sun cross her cheek as she turned toward the door. “If you think it would help, you’re welcome to come out to the cabin.”
    “That’s very kind, Nick. And maybe it would help me to see it in my head. It might be easier if I’m there.”
    “Whatever you think is best.”
    “Thank you.” She nodded and extended a hand to him. “Thank you, Nick. For everything.”
    She slipped into the cool of the house, unaware that eyes the color of honey followed her well-fitting black linen sheath as it disappeared through the doorway, or that the man leaning against the porch railing could suddenly think of nothing but the way her golden hair curled around her face.

Chapter 3
    India awoke to the sound of ill-mannered gulls squabbling over some luckless fish that, having ventured too far into shallow water, was now a sure bet to end up as breakfast for the gull that emerged victorious from the fray. She could picture it in her mind, having watched countless such seaside struggles over the years. The gull with the fish would be hounded and harassed until it swallowed the prize— often live and whole—or dropped it, leaving others to pursue the catch until one of them got lucky and managed to snatch the meal and fly off with it.
    A