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nodded.
    Victoria handed her a glass of sherry. “Do you remember her?”
    “Not very well,” she said, accepting the wine. “I was only five or six when she died.”
    “You look like her. She was very beautiful.”
    Alyssa blushed and looked down at McCavity.
    Victoria waited.
    Alyssa said nothing for some time. She ate the cracker Victoria had given her, sipped her sherry, and helped herself to another cracker. The fire blazed up. McCavity shifted away from the heat.
    “Two women in the group are getting phone calls from a breather,” Alyssa said at last.
    “So I heard. Jessica Gordon and Maron Andrews.”
    “I didn’t want to say anything at the meeting tonight.” Alyssa stopped.
    “Go on,” said Victoria.
    “I’m getting phone calls, too, Mrs. Trumbull. The guy says disgusting stuff before I can hang up.”
    “Oh,” said Victoria, and waited.
    Alyssa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I need your advice, Mrs. Trumbull. I think I know who the breather is, and I’m scared.”
    LeRoy couldn’t sleep. He tossed from side to side and from his back to his stomach. Before dawn, Sarah switched on the light. “I might as well get up. You’ve kept me awake all night.” She put her hand on his hot forehead. “You’re sick. I knew something was wrong.”
    He sat up, swiveled his feet over the side of the bed, and put his head in his hands. “Leave me alone, will you?”
    “You’d better see Doc Jeffers. If you’re coming down with something, I don’t want the boys to catch it.”
    LeRoy got up, dressed, and left the house before the twins were up, without waiting for breakfast.
    He drove through Vineyard Haven, quiet this early in the morning. Only a few shops on Main Street were lighted. His was the only car on Beach Road. As he drove, the sky turned from night black to gray. The horizon emerged and he could see boats magnified by their reflections in the still harbor. Circuit Avenue was deserted; his shop was dark.
    LeRoy couldn’t think of yesterday’s event as anything but an incident. The Jerry Sparks incident. He’d have to remember to get rid of the Taser cartridge he’d stashed in his toolbox. He felt groggy and hungover, although he hadn’t even taken a sip of the Jim Beam he’d poured last night, had poured it back into the bottle, in fact.
    He let himself into his shop, then made sure both the front and back doors were locked before he turned on the lights and opened the bottom file drawer. He unwrapped the cell phone and tucked his handkerchief into his pocket. It took him awhile to figure out where Jerry Sparks might have stored photos.
    He checked everything on the cell phone, glancing at his watch every couple of minutes. Only an hour before Maureen would arrive and open up.
    Messages from Emily Cameron, the girlfriend who’d spoken to him in the library parking lot. Their baby-sitter. Addresses, jokes, dates, notes. Pictures of Emily. No other photos. He finished before the hour was up. Sparks had lied to him. No photos. No videos.
    Had he lied, too, about downloading the photos onto his computer? About having any pictures at all?
    Someone knocked at the back door.
    “Be right there,” LeRoy called out, and quickly stashed the phone back in the bottom drawer. He’d have to tend to the Taser cartridge later. He looked at his watch. Eight o’clock, the time he usually opened. He got up, kicked the file drawer shut, and made it to the back door.
    It was the tall guy who worked at the Steamship Authority, directing cars onto the ferries.
    “Hi,” said LeRoy. “Just opening up. Can I help you?”
    “I’m looking for Jerry Sparks,” the guy said.
    LeRoy glanced behind him, as though Jerry Sparks might materialize. “He doesn’t work here anymore. Sorry.” He was about to shut the door.
    The guy held up a large hand to keep the door from closing. “Name’s Beany. Sparks told me he’s working here part-time.”
    “He doesn’t work here anymore,” said LeRoy,