Breakwater

Eisenhardt nodded. “Sure. Of course. Are you worried?”

Lattimore thought a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m worried.”

The younger attorney swore under his breath, but Gerard left, already late for a meeting that would drag on through dinner. Another night, he thought, that he wouldn’t have time to stop at the house and see his kids—another night his ex-wife could use to prove her point: His work came first. Before her, before their children, before his own health.

And she was right. It had to be that way, at least while he was a deputy assistant attorney general. To pretend otherwise was dishonest, a disservice to himself and everyone he loved.

His ex-wife had wanted the goodies without the sacrifices.

No one, he thought, could have it all.

6

The osprey…

Cold rain pelted onto Alicia Miller’s bare head and her red kayak, into the cockpit, drenching her to the skin. Lightning lit up the gray sky, followed by a roar of thunder. The waves had kicked up, frightening her.

Sobbing, shivering, she tried to slow her racing thoughts and control the rush of panic, the sudden spasms in her arms and legs. Especially her legs.

I’m going to die.

The osprey will kill me…

“Why?” she screamed, stabbing the paddle into a three-foot swell. “Why am I out here? What am I doing?”

Her words were lost in the wind, the rain, the pounding surf. She couldn’t see. Everything was gray. Where was the land? Where was Quinn’s cottage?

“Quinn! Help me, Quinn!”

Why should Quinn help me? I haven’t been a good friend to her, to anyone.

Negative self-talk…Alicia remembered she was supposed to avoid it.

She felt the kayak bump against something firm.

Land?

She looked up, into the rain.

Above her, suspended on a pole, was a sprawling, giant, frightening bird’s nest, a mass of sticks and twigs and dead grass.

Her heart raced even faster. She couldn’t suppress an overwhelming sense of doom.

I don’t want to be here. The osprey…

She’d been paddling forever. She didn’t know where she was. The cove? Was this Quinn’s osprey nest?

The kayak bumped against the pole, turning sideways into the surf. The men in the car—she remembered them.

Travis.

One was called Travis, and he had encouraged her to take the kayak out. By himself. She didn’t know what had happened to the other one. She remembered Steve getting out of the car back in Washington.

Travis’s voice had been so soothing.

“Kayaking’ll calm your nerves. Nothing like a good paddle.”

But the ospreys—he knew she was afraid of them.

He hadn’t mentioned the dark clouds moving in from the west. She saw them and assumed they meant nothing.

She’d shoved her kayak into her car. He hadn’t helped her. She drove out the loop road by herself and launched in a pretty spot, where there was a strip of sandy beach and she wouldn’t have to deal with the slimy underwater grasses that were by the cottage.

No one was around on the loop. No one had seen her put in her kayak.

Steve—what had he been doing in the back of the car with her?

How long ago was that?

Everything was a jumble in her mind.

Why can’t I think straight?

“Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?”

The poison. Had she told Quinn about the poison?

No.

Alicia dropped her paddle across the kayak’s cockpit and placed both hands on the sides of her head and squeezed, hard, as if that would help to quiet her mind.

She’d left Yorkville to go see Quinn in Washington that morning.

Yes.

Quinn, living the life she wanted now that she’d quit her job at Justice. That was good, wasn’t it? Having coffee and a croissant on a beautiful spring afternoon.

The little boy—Alicia could see his frightened look.

Her chin on her chest, she sobbed quietly, embarrassed, exhausted, yet unable to sit still, unable to quiet her body or mind.

A screech.

She jerked her head up, and the bird was there. She could see its talons and black wings, its beady eyes. It was the same one that had ripped apart the duckling.

Terror gripped her.

“What do you want from me?”