Delilah crunched up the Chief’s shell driveway. She had thought she might feel afraid. What if the Chief mistook her for a burglar and appeared with his gun? But she was as calm as a nun. If the Chief or Andrea woke up, Delilah would declare herself, and as odd as it would seem, she would tell them she was there for Greg’s guitar.

As predicted, the door to the mudroom was wide open. Delilah pulled back the screen door and stepped inside. The house hummed with sleeping people. Delilah had picked the fifth of July because the Fourth was the Chief’s most arduous day of the year—thirty thousand people descended on Jetties Beach, the traffic alone was a migraine—and he would be exhausted.

For the first time since moving to Nantucket, Delilah had skipped the Fourth of July celebration; she was too downtrodden to deal with the frivolity or the crowds. And so she’d taken the boys to Addison and Phoebe’s house. Phoebe was out at some big, splashy party, but Addison was home. He escorted Delilah and the boys to the widow’s walk, where he drunkenly belted out “The Star-Spangled Banner” once the fireworks started. Delilah found the occasion depressing, and the boys seemed antsy and unimpressed. Andrea was supposed to come with the twins, but she didn’t show up, and when Delilah called, Kacy answered and said that Andrea was “under the weather.”

Right, Delilah thought as she shifted feet, praying for the fire-works to end so she could get home to bed. They were all under the weather.

There in the corner of the Kapenashes’ mudroom was the guitar case. Delilah reached for it, giddy. The whole operation would take less than thirty seconds. But when Delilah grabbed the case, it swung open and banged against the trunk that held the Kapenash family’s winter boots. Delilah looked: the guitar case was empty. It was a casket without a body.

No! Arrgh! It would have been too easy. Delilah propped the guitar case back in the corner and waited a few seconds to see if the banging noise had woken anyone. The house was silent. Where was the guitar? Delilah tiptoed into the living room, through the kitchen, down the hall. She opened the door to the coat closet. Was the guitar in here? No. Just the Christmas decorations and the hideous fur that Andrea had inherited from her mother. (Okay, they all knew each other too well.) Delilah stood for a second outside the Chief and Andrea’s bedroom. She could hear the Chief snoring. She realized that if the guitar were anywhere it was probably in Eric’s room, but even Delilah had no intention of entering the bedroom of a fifteen-year-old boy. Ha! If Andrea caught Delilah in there, she would have her arrested.

As Delilah turned to leave, she heard a feathery noise. The Kapenashes had a cat named Arthur who was breaking all kinds of feline longevity records. Was it Arthur?

Delilah peeked up the stairs and caught her breath.

Jesus!

Chloe was floating down the stairs in a white nightie. A ghost, an angel. Her eyes were open, her face placid, even as she saw Delilah.

“Oh, honey,” Delilah whispered.

Chloe held out her arms and Delilah reached for her. Chloe was petite, like Tess; she was a featherweight compared to Delilah’s boys.

Chloe said, “Where’s my mom?”

Delilah’s heart was a berry, crushed underfoot. She hugged Chloe. This poor child. No mother, no father, no Fourth of July fireworks. Delilah carried her back upstairs to the guest room, where Finn lay, growling like a Tonka truck in his sleep. Delilah laid Chloe down in bed and smoothed her dark hair and stroked her cheek, the perfect pink little girl cheek, dotted with light freckles. She kissed Chloe’s temple. Delilah had never wanted a little girl; she had been too afraid that the girl would turn out to be like her. But Delilah wanted this little girl, and her brother, too.

She cast her eyes around the room for the guitar—the twins’ room was another place it would likely be—but she didn’t see it. She stood up and gazed at the twins. Tonight she had come for the guitar. But the next time she would come for them.

ADDISON

He needed a book. Executoring for Dummies.

The Chief had been into Tess and Greg’s house twice to get the kids’ belongings, the first time for shorts, shirts, bathing suits, pajamas, underwear, toothbrushes, and the second time for toys: the Nintendo DS, the DVD collection, the bikes, the boogie boards, the stuffed animals. Both times the Chief went, he called Addison to clear it.

I’m only going upstairs, the Chief said. To the kids’ rooms. For the kids’ things. Okay?

Okay, said Addison.

Implicit in the Chief’s asking was the fact that Addison had yet to do anything about the rest of the house. He was the executor, it was his job, he’d better get on it.

Executoring for Dummies did not exist. He checked.

So, then, maybe he would write it.

He listed his duties in a notebook.

• Give away or dispose of (sell?) furnishings (china, silver, etc., to Chloe)

• Give away or dispose of personal effects

• Clean house (call Nicole at Swept Away)

• Sell cars (call Don Allen Ford)

• Put house on market/sell house

• Pay debts (credit card, mortgage, etc.)

• Set up college/trust funds

Figuring out exactly what had happened out on the water was not on this list. Naming Greg MacAvoy as Tess’s murderer was not on this list.

Addison had a hard time getting past Tess’s iPhone. He looked through the calls: all those calls from him, in addition to calls from Andrea, Delilah, Phoebe, Lisa Shumacher. And the text messages troubled him. The night before the sail, a Sunday night, a night when Addison knew Tess had been with the kids because Greg was singing at the Begonia, Phoebe had sent Tess a text message that said, I’ll be over in five minutes.