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Charles didn’t say anything until Mom and Dad arrived a few minutes later.

They hugged Charles hello.

“That was quick,” he said.

“We weren’t too far away. Just over at the ice sculpture garden with the Officer Bouchard and the others. You’ll be happy to know that they have the entire Dewdrop Springs and Misty Harbor police departments both out looking for Mags while the Glendale crew continues with the double homicide.”

“Isn’t that great?” Dad said with his signature oversized grin. “The more, the merrier. Also the more, the faster we’ll find her. And wewillfind her, Angie.”

I forced a smile.“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying. I sure hope you’re all right.”

“Faith. You gotta have it,” Dad said, his smile stretching even wider.

“Listen,” I said, dropping my voice low, making sure only the group of us could hear. “Before Nan comes by, I just wanted to say I don’t trust that new friend she’s taking everywhere with her.”

“Are you saying you suspectMr. Milton?” Mom asked, her voice hitching unnaturally high at the end of that question.

“I’m saying I don’t know. But until we rule him out as a suspect, maybe. I mean, I don’t know who he is. I don’t know how well Nan knows him. Do you guys know anything about him?”

Mom ran her fingers through her hair as she thought.“I have met him once or twice while covering stories out on Caraway Island. He seems like a reasonably decent man.”

Caraway Island.That was the one part of Blueberry Bay I seldom went. Not just because it required a ferry, but also because they didn’t have much to offer other than beautiful scenery. And while ocean views and well-groomed beaches were perfectly nice, we all had those in our small corner of coastal Maine.

“Is there something wrong with Caraway Island?” Charles asked, hooking an eyebrow in my direction. He’d become such a big part of my life since moving here about a year and a half ago that I sometimes forgot he originally hailed from California. He didn’t know all the little quirks of living in Glendale yet.

“For one thing, the Caraway Island Cavaliers were our high school’s biggest rival,” I said, ticking off the first reason on my index finger, then raising a second finger as I continued with my list. “For another, folks from Glendale often visit Misty Harbor, Cooper’s Cove, and Dewdrop Springs, and they all come over here, too. Those on the island mostly keep to themselves, like they’re too good for the rest of us or something.”

Geographically, Caraway Island was part of Blueberry Bay, but they didn’t belong with us in any other way that counted. Perhaps that’s why it felt so strange that Nan’s new boyfriend—or whatever he was to her—hailed from the small, strange island.

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Angie. I know we all have our little prejudices about those Cavaliers, but Nan likes Mr. Milton and she’s a good judge of character,” Mom offered, even though I wasn’t sure she meant it.

“Maybe,” I said looking away and still feeling so lost and defeated in all this.

“What else can you tell us? Has there been any progress?” Charles asked.

And if my parents hadn’t been standing right there, I would’ve given him a big fat juicy kiss as a thank you for changing the subject.

“I’ve been staying right on the story of themurders in the ice sculpture garden,” Mom said, making her voice every bit as dramatic as Octo-Cat’s was when he was telling the story or talking about himself. “The latest is that they found the statue the ice weapon was broken from. Even though it had mostly melted by the time the police arrived, they were still able to match it to a missing piece on the sculpture of a swan.”

“I saw that one!” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was beautiful, and it was made by Pearl from the animal shelter. You know Pearl, don’t you? Well, let me just say she was devastated that her art had been used to kill that poor woman. Especially considering that she’d known Zelda Benedict and they were friendly.”

“Do you think Pearl might have done it?” Charles ventured.

“Oh goodness, no!” Mom hissed, looking at Charles with shock and bewilderment. “Sweet Pearl is even older than Nan and not quite as spry. I have a hard time believing she can lift that five-pound Pomeranian of hers, let alone find the strength to first break off that giant icicle and then stab it through her friend’s heart. Goodness me, not Pearl.”

“What’s everyone talking about over here?” Nan said, approaching with her usual swagger, arm linked in that of Mr. Milton.

“Thanks for coming so fast,” Charles said, not wasting a second now that we were all together. “We found Mags’s things spilled out on the ground here, so we know the kidnapper headed in this direction, and right now that’s all we know. But it’s a good place for us to start. Can you help us search?”

“I’ll get the car,” Dad said with a nod. “Meet you back here just as soon as I can.”

“I’ll get mine, too,” Mr. Milton volunteered.

“And I’ll go get mine,” said Charles. “Angie, I’ll be right back. Okay?”