He'd been forced on vacation by his superiors. "Take a break, McGrath. As long as you need."

Bruce drank more of his beer. J.B. could tell Zoe West wasn't Bruce's favorite subject. "Christina's just twenty-four. Zoe shouldn't have left her here on her own. I don't know what the hell she's still doing in Con-necticut-she doesn't have a job. I think everyone in town's told her about you by now."

And everyone in town knew because Bruce had told them. "You talk to her?" "Yeah. Made no difference. She went on about goat's milk when I talked to her."

"Did you tell her about the break-in at her sister's house?"

"No. I expect Chris did, though."

J.B. smiled. "You have a soft spot for Christina West, don't you?"

"Up yours, McGrath."

"She's okay?"

Bruce's expression softened. "Yeah. I'm supposed to bring her a new door. Want to go with me?"

J.B.'s instincts told him not to get in any deeper with the West sisters. He was in deep enough. He'd been interested in Goose Harbor because of his ancestors, but he'd actually come here because of Patrick West's murder. His own father had died over the winter, an old man who'd loved western Mon-tana-and yet he never would have been born there without his tragic connection to the Wests and Goose Harbor, Maine.

J.B. knew he should cut the night short and go back to his inn, but he got to his feet and followed Bruce Young out to buy a new door for Christina West.

Bruce did most of the work. Installing a solid wood door was nothing to him. J.B. finally quit pretending to help and joined Christina and her boyfriend, Kyle Castellane, in the kitchen. The West house was built in 1827-a plaque above the door said so-on a corner lot on a side street behind the town library. Yellow clapboards, black shutters, roses. Their mother had died of lupus when the girls were two and nine. It was one of the many tidbits J.B. had learned about the West sisters since he'd decided to vacation in Goose Harbor.