Hemlock Bay

winds off the ocean.
    He walked with her up a narrow pathway that forked to the right. There was a beautiful etched white marble stone, an angel carved on top, her arms spread wide. Beth’s name was beneath, the date of her birth, the date of her death, and beneath, the words She Gave Me Infinite Joy.
    Lily was crying, but made no sound. Simon watched her go down on her knees and arrange the daffodils against the headstone.
    He wanted to comfort her but realized in those moments that she needed to be alone. He turned away and went back to the rental car. His cell phone rang.
    It was Clark Hoyt, and he was excited.

21
    Saint John’s, Antigua

    There was nothing more for Savich to do in Antigua. Timmy Tuttle, with two healthy arms, had Marilyn, and Savich didn’t want to even think of what he was doing to her.
    Or maybe two different people had her, one wild-eyed man with black hair and two arms, and a woman with one arm and madness and rage in her eyes.
    Savich couldn’t stand himself. He’d set up Marilyn, gotten an FBI agent killed, along with a local police officer, and left chaos in his wake. He knew he’d see Virginia Cosgrove’s sightless eyes for a very long time, and that long red gash that had slit her throat open.
    Jimmy Maitland had taken his arm, trying to calm him down. “Batten down the guilt, Savich. I approved everything you did. We faced something or someone that shouldn’t have been there. It happened. You’ve got to prepare to move on.”
    Maitland shook his head, ran fingers through his gray hair, making it stand on end. “Jesus, I’m losing it. There’s nothing more we can do here. We’re going home. I’m leaving Vinny Arbus and his SWAT team in charge. They’ll keep looking for Marilyn and coordinate with local law enforcement. This confusion, Savich, it will unravel in time. There’s an explanation, there has to be.”
    Savich didn’t let Sherlock out of his sight. He realized soon enough that she was different—more quiet, her attention not on any of them, and he’d look at her and know she was thinking about what had happened, her eyes focused, yet somehow far away.
    There was so much cleanup, so many explanations to give, most omitting the inexplicable things because they didn’t help anyone to know the sorts of things that could drive you mad. And most important, there was no sign of the man who’d taken Marilyn Warluski from the Saint John’s airport.
    When they got back to Washington, Savich left immediately for the gym and worked out until he was panting for breath, his body so exhausted it was ready to rebel.
    When he walked in the front door, feeling so exhausted each step was a chore, his son was there to greet him, crawling for all he was worth right up to Savich’s feet, grabbing onto his pants leg. Savich started to reach down to pick him up when he heard Sherlock say, “No, wait a second.”
    Sean yanked hard on his father’s pants, got a good hold, braced himself, and managed to pull himself up. Then he grinned up at his father and lifted one leg, then the other.
    All the miserable unanswerable questions, all the deadening sense of failure, fell away. Savich whooped, picked up his son, and tossed him into the air, again and again, until Sean was both yelling and laughing, one and then the other.
    It was Savich who wrote Sean’s accomplishment in his baby book that evening. “An almost giant step for kid-kind.” Then “The leg lift, one at a time—he’s getting ready to walk, amazing. His grandmother says I started walking early, too.”
    In bed that night, Sherlock nuzzled her head into Savich’s neck, lightly laid her palm over his heart, and said, “Sean brings back focus, doesn’t he?”
    “Yes. I was ready to fall over from working out so hard when I walked in the house, and then he crawls over to me and pulls himself up. Then he lifts each leg, testing them out, nearly ready to take off. I didn’t think I had any laughter left in me, but I guess I do.”
    “Don’t feel guilty about it. You should have seen Gabriella. She was so tickled when I got home, so proud of both herself and Sean that she couldn’t wait to show off what he could do. Those leg lifts, I haven’t read about that in any baby books. Gabriella got some video of him doing that with me. I swear she didn’t want to leave this afternoon. I expect her husband to call me and complain about what demanding employers we are.”
    Savich settled his hand on her hip, kneaded her