“Hey,” Ayers said flatly. She didn’t look good. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes puffy, her skin sallow. Cash had told Irene that Ayers had taken a leave of absence from the boat and also that her engagement had ended, leaving her free to care for Winnie.

“I owe you a huge thank-you for helping Cash out,” Irene said. “I’m not sure what would have happened otherwise.”

“It’s no big deal,” Ayers said. “I like having her around…good distraction and all that. It gets me outside a couple of times a day, anyway.”

“Are you okay, honey?” Huck asked. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like death on a stick.”

“Huck!” Irene said.

“It’s okay,” Ayers said. “I’m just…going through some stuff right now.” She frowned at Huck. “And I’ve been meaning…there’s something I need to talk to you about. Later. I’ll call you later.”

“Anytime,” Huck said.

Irene wanted to ask Ayers if she knew that Baker was staying at the Westin or if she knew Baker was moving to the island permanently if he could find a suitable rental, but she couldn’t get into everything that had happened while they were all there at the store, so Irene said, “We’re on the hunt for mangoes for Maia,” and Ayers led Winnie back to her little green truck.

Huck said, “Did she seem off to you?”

“Yes,” Irene said. “But you should never tell a woman she looks anything less than radiant.”

“Oops,” Huck said.

St. John Business Center. This is where Huck picks up his mail. There’s always a long line of people who need to scan or make copies or ship something back to the States. Last time, Irene went inside with Huck. Candice, the woman in charge, asked Huck if Irene was his new lady friend, and Huck said, “Irene is my business partner,” and Candice said, “Okay, if that’s what you want to call it.”

This time, Irene stays in the truck. She has now been living with Huck for nearly two weeks, and everyone on the island must think they’re a couple. Irene has far bigger worries than what other people think, but she has decided it’s best to maintain a bit of distance by letting Huck get his own mail. There are still condolence letters about Rosie that arrive, and there are bills for the house. Irene has tried to contribute to the household but Huck says, Absolutely not.

And, frankly, Irene is relieved.

Huck emerges from the business center holding a square, flat package and grinning. He’s got his sunglasses on and his visor; he wears a navy bandanna around his neck. He’s handsome when he smiles, Irene thinks. He’s handsome all the time. He’s strong, he’s kind, he’s trustworthy, he’s honest.

But she’s not ready.

He comes to her window and hands her the package. “For you.”

“Me?” She studies the package. It’s from M. Key in Iowa City.

Mavis Key has sent Irene…what?

Milly’s picture! Irene opens the box, slides out the bubble-wrapped bundle inside, untapes it, unfolds it, and yes—there’s Milly’s portrait. Irene’s eyes fill with tears. Mavis got it back. Amazing. Simply amazing.

“Look,” Irene says, showing the picture to Huck. “This is Russ’s mother, Milly, back in 1928 in Erie, Pennsylvania. Who does she remind you of?”

Huck takes the picture. “Goddamn,” he says. “Maia is her spitting image.”

Irene leans back against the seat and closes her eyes. “I’m going to give that picture to Maia. Thank God Mavis got it back.”

“There’s a note here,” Huck says.

Irene opens her eyes and Huck pulls a card from a corner of the frame.

Call Nat! the note says. There’s a number.

Irene already has Natalie Key’s number—Mavis texted it to her back on day one of the Destitution—but Irene hasn’t called her yet because…well, because she can’t afford a lawyer, especially not a big fancy lawyer in New York City. And yet Irene knows she has to do something. She has been so busy trying to make it through each day—working on the boat, helping out around Huck’s house where she can, checking in with Cash and Baker and Floyd—that she has been able to avoid thinking of all her worldly possessions in the custody of the FBI. If she ever wants to see them again or figure out what the hell is going on, she needs to do exactly what this card says and call Natalie Key.

“I think we should celebrate,” Huck says. “What do you say we go to Candi’s for some barbecue?”

Irene places the photograph in her lap. It does feel like a victory, having Milly back. Maybe Milly will be good luck. Maybe Milly will help them.

“Yes, please, and thank you,” Irene says. She’ll call Natalie tomorrow, she decides. Tonight, she’s going to eat some ribs, pasta salad with peas, and coleslaw with raisins and pretend she’s a vacationer.

“Before we get started,” Natalie says, “I want you to know that a guardian angel of yours has already sent me a retainer for ten thousand dollars.”

“What?” Irene says. “Who did that? Was it Mavis?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you, but I don’t play games,” Natalie says. “It was your former boss, Joseph Feeney.”

Joseph Feeney, Irene thinks. The big boss at Heartland Home and Style. “Mavis must have told him what happened,” Irene says.

“No doubt—and she probably strong-armed him,” Natalie says. “Mavis is tough, as I’m sure you know.”

“Mavis told me that you were tough,” Irene says.

“Ha!” Natalie says. “I guess we’re both tough. We had three older brothers who were state champion wrestlers, so we learned how to get out of a headlock and a half nelson at a very young age. Now, normally I charge nine hundred dollars an hour, but for you, I’m dropping my fee to three hundred—again, that’s at Mavis’s request, and I always honor her requests when I can—so I’m really hoping, Irene, that we can get this done without any out-of-pocket expenses on your end.”

Irene is so relieved, she feels dizzy. Thank you, Joseph Feeney, she thinks. You underpaid me for twelve years and essentially demoted me when you hired Mavis, and I called you all kinds of ugly names in my head. But when I needed you, you came through.

Thanking him should be done by phone but she can’t risk the follow-up questions. She’ll e-mail. “Wonderful,” Irene says.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Natalie says, “I need you to tell me everything.”

Irene expects that, because Natalie is charging only a third of her usual fee, Irene will receive a third of Natalie’s usual attention. But in only a matter of days, Natalie calls and gives her some answers.

The helicopter that Russ and Rosie took to Anegada was privately owned by Stephen Thompson, the third principal in Ascension. This particular helicopter had no black box, so there’s no voice recording of the ride or the moments before the crash. Irene is relieved. There’s a limit to what she can handle.

The people from VISAR—Virgin Island Search and Rescue—told the FBI that they had reason to believe the helicopter was not struck by lightning but rather exploded due to an electrical issue or, possibly, foul play. They are still investigating. The helicopter presently belongs to the British authorities because it went down in British waters.