Chapter 9: Harbor Point at Dawn

The Harbor Point marina at six in the morning was a graveyard of white boats under a sky the color of dishwater. Aria went alone. Or as alone as a woman can be when a young man with a newspaper is trailing her at a distance of sixty yards and a gold whisk on her lapel is quietly telling a man at Cormorant House exactly where she stands. She had told Pip she wanted to walk along the water to clear...