Jenner stood in front of the charred husk of his cabin, a big garbage bag for his belongings in his hand. It was almost two a.m., and the air had cooled; the smoke had driven the insects away.

He sat on the lip of the porch, cell phone in hand. He stared at the parking lot, breathing in the wet burned-wood smell and acrid chemical aroma of scorched plastic and fire-retardant foam.

He glanced down at his phone; still half-charged. He dialed Jun in New York; Jun answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Jenner. You okay?”

“Yeah. Just about. It’s been rough…”

“We know. We’ve been watching it on TV—fucking Amanda Tucker, right? She’s all over your jimmy.”

“She’s been on TV already?”

“Yah. It was actually pretty great—they had her in the hospital ER, all bandaged up and shit, broadcasting live. Network, baby!”

“What did she say about me?”

“She said you saved her life! It was pretty great.”

“Huh.”

“But then she said other stuff, not so great.”

“I’ll bet.” Jenner smiled in the dark.

“When you coming back?”

“Soon. They’re riding me out of the county.”

“Well, good. It was time for you to leave. You need more money, bro? Say the word, I’ll wire some down tonight.”

“I don’t know. I’m almost out. I have to do one more autopsy, then I’m gone.” Jenner checked for soot, then leaned against the porch post.

“You’ve done enough. Why can’t you just take off?”

“Because they murdered the detective I was working with, and he was a good guy. And because Marty Roburn was like a father to me. And because I don’t trust the cops down here to do right by them. I think they’re dirty, at least some of them—I know they’ve been following me.”

“Jenner, the cops are always dirty! Fuck, man, let it go! I respect you wanting to look out for your friends, but you’ve done enough. They tried to kill you, too! Just get in that fucking car and drive, man! Florida’s not the place for you. You need to leave, right now.”

He thought about it. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You know it.” There was a pause, then Jun said, “Also, Amanda’s saying you’ve hooked up with some billionaire’s daughter—that true?”

He was silent a second. “Sort of.”

“Whoa! Nice work!”

Now everyone in the world knew. He flashed on Halvorsen saying Chip Craine owned La Grulla Blanca.

“It’s over. It was just a one-night stand.”

“They had a photo of her.”

Christ. “It’s over.”

“Dude, you should rethink that—seriously, she was hot…”

“Yes, she’s very hot. But it’s a one-night stand. Her choice, not mine.”

Something stirred behind him, inside the cabin, deep in the shadows.

“Jun, I gotta go.”

“You gotta go? You gotta go call her, dude! That’s where you gotta go…”

Jenner disconnected.

He stepped back from the deck and looked warily into the darkness beyond the yellow tape.

There was the flare of a match, and he saw Maggie’s face for a second as she lit the cigarette.

“Hi, Jenner. Who’s hot?”

“You are.”

Maggie shook out the match, but it continued to glow. She shrugged and threw it on the floor with a dry laugh. “Not like it can do much damage now…”

She was on the couch in the unburned half of the room, a blanket spread beneath her. In the black velvet shadow, in the smell of burned wood and plastic, dappled by the light that fell through the scorched timber frame, she seemed to float above the ashes. She was immaculate and whole, her hair glowing faintly, her bare shoulders elegant and pure; Jenner had never seen her more beautiful.

She held something in her lap, a flat rectangular box. She lifted it up with the ghost of a smile and said, “The Old Woman by the Fishing Port, Jenner? I’m not sure I’m flattered you think I’m hot.”

He shrugged. “You’ve been there all this time?”

She looked at her watch. “Since about one o’clock. I figured you’d come back for your stuff.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” She took a drag. “Surprise!”

“What do you want?”

Maggie smiled brightly. “Blood! I’ve come back for blood…”

Jenner stepped over the yellow tape and sat next to her, and looked at her silently.

“Not in a joking mood?” She exhaled. “Where’s your little woodland friend?”

“Ranger Putnam?” He didn’t know why he said it like that.

“Ah, yes…Ranger Putnam…Where is Ranger Putnam? Putting out forest fires?” She smiled mirthlessly.

“There’s something I need to ask you.”

“What?”

“Your father’s farm…”

“La Grulla Blanca?” Maggie wrinkled her brow. “What’s there to know? Daddy keeps prize pigs, and they grow vegetables, I think. What about it?”

“Does he go there a lot?”

“No. Pretty much the only reason he owns it is for the Fourth of July party—we have a big thing each year at Stella, and they dig a barbecue pit and roast a couple of his hogs. He probably goes up there one night a month, maybe two—the manager comes down to Stella from time to time. Why? What’s this about?”

“He stays the night?”

“Yes, usually.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s so weird about that?”

“It’s not a long drive back to town. Why does he stay there?”

“Because he owns the place?” She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Jenner, I don’t know, ask him—maybe he likes to get up early to run naked with the pigs!”

Jenner didn’t smile. “Do you know what happened here?”

“Yes!” She motioned with her cigarette at the wreckage. “Someone threw a bomb into your cabin. Is it because of the hanged men?”

“I think it’s connected.” Jenner paused. “Did you hear anything else?”

“Nope. Well, I know Amanda Tucker was with you when it happened—what’s up with that, Jenner? A little taste of forbidden fruit? After the hatchet job she did on you…”

“Did you know Rudge, Detective David Rudge?”

“Why are you interrogating me like this?” She shook her head testily. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve met him. Is he from Port Fontaine? Should I know him?”

“He was assigned to that case. He was murdered tonight.”

She was silent.

“Here’s the thing, Maggie: we went to your father’s farm today.”

She was confused. “But…why would you go to Daddy’s farm?”

“It was part of the investigation. When we were there, Rudge made some threats; a few hours later, someone shot him in the head, and someone threw a pipe bomb into my cabin.”

There was a quiet rustling in the trees, and it began to drizzle. She drew her wrap tighter around her and moved closer to him, under the shelter of the remaining roof. “You think Daddy’s involved, Jenner?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what I think. But they’ve killed a cop, now they’ve really crossed a line.”

She was close to him, shivering. He fought the urge to put an arm around her.

Jenner turned to her. Her face was half-hidden by her hair.

He said, “Really, why are you here?”

“I’m not sure. I felt…bad.” She smiled softly and raised her cigarette and gestured dramatically. “Yes, I felt bad, Jenner! I wanted to say I was sorry. I didn’t want it to go like this.”

Jenner said nothing.

“It’s not all about me. You know I have…problems. You came along and fell into them. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m just…you know, fucked up.”

“Yes, yes—you’re fucked up, it’s not your fault, nothing you can do.” He shrugged. “I understand now that you can share only so much with someone else before it gets too hard for you. I know I’m not the first, and I won’t be the last—people like you keep moving from person to person, never finding what they need.”

“Whoa!” She whistled, smiling. “Been waiting to say that for a while, haven’t we, doctor?”

They were quiet for a while, then Jenner said, “Why me?”

She shrugged and inhaled, then breathed out, and said, “You’re smart. You’re not bad-looking. You were new. Fuck, I don’t know—you liked dogs! I don’t care, take your pick…”

“I think it’s sad.”

Maggie scowled. “Sad? Yeah, well, Jenner, sad’s the nature of a ‘one-night stand,’ right?”

She flicked the cigarette off the deck.

“Where’s the Bentley?”

“At Stella. I took the Volvo.”

She turned to him. “You know, I came to ask you out. On a date. I thought things over a bit. But I see now you wouldn’t have said yes.”

Jenner paused, then said, “No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Is it because of whatshername, Woodsy Owl?” She had a little sneer.

“Maybe, a bit, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But it’s mostly because of you.”

She flinched, then gathered her wrap around her, as if it were just the cool air.

“I earned that,” she said.

She opened her clutch purse and pulled out her cigarettes. She slipped one between her lips and dug for her matches; she’d used the last.

“Fuck.” She looked at him. “I suppose it would be pretty poor form for me to ask you for a match…”

“I couldn’t help you.”