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of those houses on Maine Avenue. I think it’s like two doors down from Billy’s place. It’s the perfect observation post. You’re outdoors all day, you can see everything and the best part is, you’re actually supposed to be there. No one looks twice at you.”
    I nodded. “Sounds good. You can have the day shift. Drive your own car down there and park it out of sight. Keep track of the mileage and gas.”
    â€œThanks, Chief. I’m on it.”
    Tornovitch was waiting for me outside. I drove him into town and we found a spot in front of the old police station on Chestnut Street. It was clouding over and the wind had shifted around to the northeast. The streets were crowded. Summer specials were chalking tires and writing tickets. Most of the tourists looked miserable, gritting their teeth through another family nightmare, despite the ice-cream cones and smoothies and cell phones everyone was clutching. I was the only one on the street with my hands free. I reached down to catch a pair of five-year-olds as they careened into my legs. They twirled away from me and kept going. We turned the corner and their mom brushed past us, yelling and apologizing in the same breath. “I’m so sorry—Billy! Tommy! You come back here!”
    Tornovitch blew out a disgusted breath. “No discipline. Those kids are running wild.”
    â€œAt least they’re safe here. In the city she’d be right to panic.”
    He laughed at that—the usual dismissive grunt.
    â€œIt’s true.”
    â€œI have a term for people like you, Kennis. Truth procrastinators. You don’t deny it. You put it off as long as possible. Like this bomb threat thing. You think I’m making mountains out of molehills. Maybe I am. But this place feels like Mount St. Helens to me. And you’re the kind of guy who buys real estate on the side of a volcano because you don’t believe nice places blow up. Well, they do. I’ve seen it happen. I know the signs.”
    Maybe, but he didn’t find any at The Souk, or at their out of town storage space, except dull financial records and boxes full of clothes and trinkets. But Jack scared the crap out of the Lasharis. That seemed to mollify him a little.
    And there was news waiting for us back at the station.
    Charlie Boyce and Kyle Donelly shuffled and shifted outside my office. Charlie was ten years older than Kyle and his hair was starting to thin, but they looked like brothers—two big men who had held down the Nantucket High School Whalers’ defensive line in different eras. Kyle had never gotten farther away from Nantucket than Christmas shopping at Marshall’s in Hyannis. Charlie had been to John Jay College in New York City and worked for the Boston Police Department. He wasn’t suited for big city life, though. Maybe none of us were.
    He took my arm and pulled me a few steps away from Jack.
    â€œWhat?” I shrugged free.
    â€œIt’s about the drug thing, Chief. Pat Folger’s still following the guys who got his kid hooked on oxy. They caught him taking pictures of people going in and out of the house. There was a scuffle. Pat punched one of the guys.”
    â€œDid we get a call?”
    â€œNo—that’s the whole point. Why wouldn’t they call the cops? Anybody normal would call the cops, right? But these guys are illegal immigrants and drug dealers so that’s the last thing they want.”
    â€œHow do we even know it happened?”
    â€œTim Lepore called from the hospital. Apparently Pat broke a knuckle on this guy’s jaw. So Pat got on the line and starting yelling at me to go in there and bust these guys. With no warrant and no evidence—nothing but some crazy contractor’s random snap shots. Guy needs to be sedated.”
    â€œI don’t know. He’s making more progress than we are.”
    â€œThat doesn’t surprise me.” Tornovitch strode up to us.