Free On Fire by Carla Neggers

French Mont Desert, or barren mountain, for its hills of pink granite. She nodded. “Abigail told me.”
    “Where did Cassain live? What’s he been doing the past year?”
    “Last I heard he was working on the docks inPortland, but he still had his place down here—out in Arlington, I think. He hadn’t settled into a new job, so far as I know.”
    Straker continued on his way without comment. Riley sighed. The man could drive her to the brink if she let him. She turned back to the fountain. More people had drifted over for a bit of fresh air during their lunch hour. Suddenly the idea of going back to work, trying to concentrate, didn’t appeal to her. She was restless, frustrated, still absorbing the potential ramifications of Sam Cassain turning up dead on Labreque Island. She wanted to find Emile—and she wanted to know what Straker was up to next.
    “Riley? I thought that was you.”
    Hell, she thought. Henry Armistead. He’d got to her before she could get to him. From his grim expression, she guessed he’d heard the news. Bennett had lured him east from California three years before to serve as the center’s executive director. He was fifty-one, handsome and polished, and Riley, oblivious to such things herself, had heard rumors of a budding relationship between him and Abigail Granger.
    “I was just coming to see you,” she said lamely.
    “A little late, I’d say. Maine State Police investigators are on their way. They want to talk to Abigail, Caroline Granger, your father and me about Sam’s death. They said they might want to ask you a few more questions, too.”
    She nodded. “I understand.”
    “I wish I’d known about this before the police called.”
    “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been preoccupied.”She stopped, picturing the body lying facedown in low tide. “I didn’t recognize him. It never occurred to me…”
    “It must have been a terrible moment for you,” Henry said softly. “Riley, Sam’s body turning up on an island your grandfather owns…” He inhaled. He was gray haired, formal in his dark gray suit. His dress and manner, his sensibilities, fit with the Grangers more than they did the Labreques and St. Joes. “I can only imagine what the police must be thinking.”
    “We shouldn’t jump to any conclusions just because there was bad blood between Emile and Sam. For all we know, Sam could have been on his way to tell Emile he’d changed his mind about the Encounter and wanted to mend fences. There’s just no telling.”
    “I know Emile’s your grandfather, but…” He sighed. “Well, never mind. It’s obvious you have a blind spot where he’s concerned, which is understandable. I just hope Emile hears the news that the police want to talk to him, and comes in.”
    “I’m sure he will. This isn’t the first time he’s taken off without telling anyone. Since he’s retired, he doesn’t have to answer to any of us.”
    Henry tilted his head back slightly and gave her a long look, the kind that reminded her who was boss and who wasn’t. “That’s true. He doesn’t. But you, Riley—I want to make sure your priorities and obligations are clear.”
    “Of course they are.”
    He looked dubious. “Your sister is estranged from Matthew Granger. Sam Cassain placed responsibilityfor the deaths of five people, including Bennett Granger, on your grandfather’s shoulders. Now he’s dead and Emile’s disappeared.”
    “I was there, Henry.” She kept her voice low, under control. “I know what happened.”
    “Perhaps you should take the afternoon off,” he continued more gently. “We can see where things stand in the morning. With any luck, this will all have sorted itself out by then.”
    Riley stood rock-still, not certain where this was leading. “Henry, I have work to do. Is this a suggestion or a request?”
    “You’ve been walking the razor’s edge for a year. I know it’s difficult for you to accept Emile’s culpability with regard to the