But Zoe really knew she'd put law enforcement behind her last week when she got her tattoo-not because it was a tattoo, but because it was a tattoo of a beach rose. She'd designed it herself.

Cops didn't have beach roses tattooed on their hips. As far as Zoe was concerned, that was another rule, right up there with carrying a gun.

She sank back in her chair. She was losing her damn mind. At least she'd quit smoking. She'd let a pack-a-day habit creep up on her this past year but had finally kicked it.

What she needed to do now was say goodbye to Bea and Charlie, the sheep, the chickens and the goats and go home.

When her cell phone rang, Zoe assumed it was someone else from Goose Harbor calling to tell her about Special Agent J. B. McGrath.

But it was Christina, her voice shaking, her words coming out tight and fast. "Zoe-Zoe, the police just left. Someone broke into my house. Can you believe it? Who'd do something like that?"

They'd both inherited their father's house when he died, and since Christina was already living at home, she'd simply stayed there. Their great-aunt had left Zoe her 1890s house overlooking the harbor, and Christina enough money to open a breakfast-and-lunch café on the town docks. By all accounts, the café was doing well, but Zoe had yet to go there. She hadn't stepped foot in Goose Harbor since she'd fled for Connecticut.

"Are you okay?" she asked her sister.

Christina sniffled. "Yes. I wasn't here. I close up the café at three, and today I did cleanup as fast as I could- I was done by four. Kyle and I came back here to work on his documentary on Aunt Olivia-" She took a breath, and Zoe could hear her sister's hesitation. Kyle Castellane wasn't one of Zoe's favorite people. He was young, rich, arrogant and determined to do this documentary on Olivia despite the grief Christina and Zoe both still felt at her death. To him, it was a matter of "strike while the iron's hot." Christina didn't share Zoe's frustrations-she thought Kyle was brilliant.