STONE WENT INTO Dick’s little office, where Lance was working on the computer. “The Nantucket police have verified that the Stone twins are there, on the yacht.”
Lance sighed. “I had hopes for that theory,” he said. He spun around in his chair. “Stone, I don’t want to talk about this in front of Ham, but I think you know that the chances of finding Holly alive are down to slim and none.”
“I can’t think about that, Lance; I just have to keep trying to figure this thing out.”
“I know you feel responsible, but you’re not,” Lance said. “You told her to go armed.”
“She did; her gun is not upstairs, and neither is the holster.”
“Then she was incapacitated at the outset, but that’s not your fault, either.”
“I wish I could feel that way about it.”
Dino called out from the study, “Hey, Stone, you and Lance come in here a minute, will you?”
Stone and Lance walked into the study to find Dino and Sergeant Young hunched over the coffee table, looking at Lance’s thermal images and the sergeant’s map of the island. “What’s up?” Stone asked.
Dino tapped the thermal image with his forefinger. “I’m just looking at this house,” he said.
“What about it?”
“This is the image from last night. It shows four people, presumably asleep, in the house, at around three-thirty A.M., two people in each of two bedrooms.”
“So?”
“So, according to Tom’s map, it’s Caleb Stone’s house.”
“And there were four people present last night?”
“Look for yourself. My question is, if the twins are in Nantucket, who are the other two people besides Caleb and his wife?”
“I don’t know. Guests maybe?”
“The twins can’t be in two places at once, Dino,” Lance said, “and we have a sighting of them by a police officer on the yacht less than an hour ago.”
“Tom,” Dino said, “do you personally know this Nantucket cop?”
“Never met him,” Young said. “I just phoned his office this morning, and they put me in touch with him.”
“How did he strike you on the phone—sharp?”
“Not really. He kept getting things mixed up: the twins’ names, the name of the yacht.”
“So, maybe he’s mixed up about the twins being on the yacht.”
Young produced his cell phone and called Potter’s number.
“Yeah?”
“Lieutenant, it’s Tom Young from the Maine State Police again.”
“Yeah?”
“When you went down to the boat this morning, did you actually see the twins?”
“Ah, no, but the two guys on board said they had just gone for beer. I’m looking for them now.”
“So, you didn’t sight the twins?”
“Not yet.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant.”
“You think the two guys lied to me?”
“It’s a strong possibility. If you find them, please call me immediately. Good-bye.” Young hung up. “He didn’t see them.”
“I’d like to visit Caleb’s house,” Stone said.
“Me, too,” Young replied.
Ham stood up. “I’m coming, too.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, Mr. Barker,” Young said. “You just stay here, and let me do my job. You, too, Stone.”
“As you wish, Sergeant,” Stone replied.
“I’ll call you after I’ve talked to Caleb—and his sons, if they’re there.”
“Be careful,” Stone said.
Young left the house.
“You shouldn’t get too excited about this, Ham,” Stone said.
“No?” Ham replied. “If these twins are here, why are they establishing an alibi for themselves in Nantucket?”
“I don’t know, but they may actually be in Nantucket, and we still don’t have anything to connect them with Holly.”
The doorbell rang, and Stone went to answer it. Ed Rawls stood on the doorstep.
“Come on in, Ed.”
“Thanks. Anything new?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve just learned that Caleb Stone’s twin sons have gone to some lengths to make the police believe that they’re in Nantucket, but we’ve learned that they’re not.”
“We haven’t learned that yet, Stone,” Lance pointed out. “All we know is that the Nantucket cop looking for them hasn’t seen them yet.”
“And,” Dino pointed out, “we’ve got these thermal scans that show four people sleeping in Caleb’s house last night.”
“So, what if they are here?” Rawls asked. “Have you got anything to connect them to any of the murders?”
“Not really,” Stone said, “but I find it very suspicious that they seem to be trying to create a false alibi.”
“I see your point,” Rawls said.
“Sergeant Young has just gone over to Caleb’s house to see if they’re there,” Stone said. “I’ll be interested to hear what he finds out.”
SERGEANT TOM YOUNG pulled up to the Stone house, a rambling shingled house sagging with age in places. He walked up onto the front porch and rang the bell.
After a long wait the door opened. “Yes?”
“Mr. Caleb Stone?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Sergeant Young of the Maine State Police. We spoke on the phone yesterday. I’d like to speak to your sons, Eben and Enos, please.”
“I gave you their cell phone number yesterday, Sergeant,” Caleb replied. “It hasn’t changed.”
“Yes sir, and I spoke to one of them, but I haven’t been able to confirm their whereabouts.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that, Sergeant, but I don’t see how I can help you. The boys are not here.”
“Sir, we have information that four people slept in your house last night. I assume that two of them were your wife and yourself. Who were the other two?”
“We, ah, had houseguests. They left this morning.”
“Did they take the ferry?”
“No, they came and left by boat; they’re cruising the coast and just stopped in for the night.”
“May I ask their names?”
“Bill and Julie Robertson.”
“And the name of their boat?”
“I don’t really know the boat’s name,” Caleb replied. “It’s a sailing boat, pretty good size, but I don’t know its name.”
“How can I contact the Robertsons?”
“Why do you want to contact them?”
“I need to verify their presence here last night.”
“Well, I suppose you’ll have to wait until they return to Boston in the fall. They’re cruising all summer.”
“Mr. Stone, would you mind if I had a look around your house?”
“What for?”
“I’d like to see for myself if your sons are here.”
“All right. Go ahead,” Caleb said, standing aside and holding the door open.
Sergeant Young stepped inside the house, and he heard the door close firmly behind him.