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small, maybe five foot three, and—like Brenda—she seemed more exotic than the wholesome-looking Dutch girls of Warner Pier. She had dark eyes and a beautiful tan. Her hair was blond, true, but it was the frankly fake kind of blond.
    I kept feeling that I ought to know who she was, but I hadn’t managed to place her. I decided to try. “Jill, are you here just for the summer?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou mentioned that you and Jeremy worked together. Where do you work?”
    Jill shot a quick glance at me, then dropped her eyes to the sand. “It’s just a summer job,” she said. “How long will these guys look for Jeremy before they give up?
    â€œI don’t know.” Had she just changed the subject? “They won’t look for, well, too long. The lake currents make it hard to predict just where . . .”
    I stopped. Maybe I’d said enough. “Where are you from, Jill?”
    â€œI’m from Indianapolis. I’m a senior at Northwestern.”
    â€œGreat school! What’s your major?”
    I got that under-the-lashes look again. “I’m in the School of Communication.”
    â€œIs that journalism?”
    â€œNot exactly.” She looked at me. “You’re sure there’s no way to make a cell phone call from here?”
    â€œNo. There’s no service on the lakeshore. But I can take you up to my house if you want to make a call.”
    â€œIt doesn’t seem right to leave. But I need to talk to my . . .” She hesitated. “Our boss.”
    â€œI’m sure he’s heard what happened by now.”
    â€œI know!” Jill turned around and stared at the people on top of the bank behind us. “I don’t understand why he hasn’t come.”
    The line of volunteers had reached the edge of the water. They dropped their arms and began to talk to one another. Hogan, who was directing the operation, began to gesture to his left, apparently indicating where they would try the next time. Three of the women came over for bottles of water. None of them spoke to Jill, and she didn’t look up at them.
    Jill and I sat silently until they went back into the water, linking their elbows again and forming a line in a new area. It didn’t seem to be a likely spot to me. It was south of the spot where Jill thought Jeremy had gone down. The southwest current should have washed him farther north. But what did I know? Hogan was the expert.
    Jill was still drooping. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. It was as if she couldn’t stand to look at the water any longer.
    I tried to think of something comforting to say. Even though she had denied several times that she had any deep emotional attachment to Jeremy, witnessing something like this had to be upsetting. I was upset, and I’d never met Jeremy. I knew the morning had been a nightmare to Jill.
    What could I say to her? My mind was a blank.
    Then I heard a woman’s voice behind me. “Jill! Lee!”
    I pulled myself out of my own four-inch-high chair—an awkward job—and crawled out from under the umbrella. Jill stayed where she was, but she lifted her head.
    I looked toward the bank behind us. A woman was standing at the top, behind the yellow no-admittance tape. She was waving a big straw hat. “Lee! Jill! It’s me! Maggie.”
    I walked toward her, and she waved again. “They won’t let me through unless you vouch for me!”
    It was Maggie McNutt, who had been aboard Joe’s Shepherd Sedan the night we were boarded by the pirates.
    Before I could do anything to indicate that Maggie should be allowed on the beach, a streak of white terry cloth went by me.
    â€œMaggie! Maggie!” Jill was running up the stairs toward the top of the bank. “I am so glad you’re here!”
    As Jill ran by, I realized where I’d seen her before, why she had seemed so familiar to me.
    Jill was