Christina looked agitated. She was tall, slender and usually quick with a smile, but not tonight. Wisps of long blond hair had worked their way out of her braid and into her face, which was lightly freckled and pretty, making J.B. wonder about her older sister, the ex-detec-tive. Christina wore the white ruffled blouse and slim black pants that were her basic uniform at her café. Kyle, the boyfriend, was sandy-haired and good-look-ing, dressed in his habitual gray sweatshirt and khakis. He also had on a five-thousand-dollar watch. They both stood with their backs against the kitchen counter.

J.B. had on jeans, a black chamois shirt and boatshoes he'd managed to scuff up properly during his four days on the Maine coast. His sports watch cost about a hundred bucks. He'd had to buy a new band for it after he'd bled on the old one when he got his throat slit. The scar wasn't all that visible when he wore collared shirts.

He had a feeling Christina West already knew about him, but he went ahead and introduced himself. "I'm

J. B. McGrath. I'm on vacation here in Goose Harbor." "I heard," Christina said. "I've seen you at the café a few times."

He smiled, aware of her tension. "Hard to resist wild blueberry muffins and warm apple pie. Chowder's good, too."

She couldn't muster much of a smile back at him. "Thanks."

"You're FBI, aren't you?" Kyle asked.

"I'm just a guy with some time off."

The kid didn't like his answer. "Some people are saying you're a phony."

J.B. shrugged. "It's a crime to impersonate a law enforcement officer." Kyle Castellane liked that answer even less than the first one. "I'd like to see some I.D."

"Would you?"

"Yeah. Why the name McGrath? Don't you think that's a hell of a coincidence?"