She looked frantically up from the papers. "I don't know. You mustn't risk coming back."
"I will, no matter what you say."
"I can't promise. Please go."
"Just one question," he begged. "What are your aunts' names?"
"Hani and Hilda," she told him, and then she was gone. The hedge shook where she'd darted through.
Jack hesitated, then started for the cove. He thought for a moment of staying on the island, but decided against it. He could probably conceal himself successfully, but whoever found his boat would have him at a disadvantage. Besides, there were things he must try to find out on the mainland.
As he entered the oaks, his spine tightened for a moment, as if someone were watching him. He hurried to the rippling cove, wasted no time getting the Annie O. underway. With the wind still in the west, he knew it would be a hard sail. He'd need half a dozen tacks to reach the mainland.
When he was about a quarter of a mile out from the cove, there was a sharp smack beside him. He jerked around, heard a distant crack and saw a foot-long splinter of fresh wood dangling from the edge of the sloop's cockpit, about a foot from his head.
He felt his skin tighten. He was the bull's-eye of a great watery target. All the air between him and the island was tainted with menace.
Water splashed a yard from the side. There was another distant crack. He lay on his back in the cockpit, steering by the sail, taking advantage of what little cover there was.