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agitated as she.
    Again there was a long pause. This time I was
certain she was gathering her thoughts. I braced myself for a messy
explanation.
    “Jesse, I’m in trouble. Big trouble!”
    “Does it have anything to do with the
governor?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she exclaimed in a muted scream. “How
did you know?”
    “I just added things up. Your ex-husband is a
security guard for the governor, or I should say, ‘He was a
security guard for the former governor.’ You began calling
me a half-hour after William Lavoilette was murdered, and you’ve
called me over twenty times throughout the night and into the
morning.”
    “Jesse, please help me right away. I may be
in real danger. I need you to come and get me.”
    Now it was my turn to pause and take stock. I
found Cynthia to be a very levelheaded, professional woman. She was
in her late thirties and had been employed her entire adult life.
She worked in a title company for several years after graduating
from the University of Maine. When she turned thirty, she got her
real estate license and has been selling both personal and
commercial properties ever since. I see her name on “For Sale”
signs all over Augusta.
    “Jesse, are you still there?” she asked as if
panicked and desperate.
    “Yes, I’m still here. I’m just getting my
bearings. How are you involved?” I asked.
    “I can’t explain it over the phone. It’s too
complicated. Believe me, I need your help right away. I’ll pay
whatever you ask. But, please …come pick me up. I need your
protection. I can’t go home until I am able to find out if it is
safe for me there.”
    “Safe from whom? Travis Perkins?”
    “I don’t know whom. I just can’t explain it
all now. Jesse! Help me!”
    “OK,” I said, “Where are you?”
    “I’m on Sebascodegan Island, just south of
Brunswick, not far from Harpswell Islands Road, State Highway
24.”
    “That’s precisely where the governor was
murdered last night,” I said.
    “Well, that’s where I am, and that’s where I
have been…all night.”
    I really didn’t know what to imagine, or what
to say. There was no way Cynthia could be responsible for the
governor’s death, but obviously she was involved in some way. It
was beginning to look as if I was going to get involved as well. I
tried one more time to get a clearer picture of the situation.
    “Can’t you just tell me a little more about
your situation?” I pleaded.
    “I’m not a suspect, if that’s what you mean.
But I simply can’t tell you any more right now. I’ve got to stay
low and out of sight until you get here. Please come!”
    “OK. I’ll come and find you. But when I get
there, you’ll have some explaining to do. If I don’t feel
satisfied, I will drive away and leave you where you are. Is that
clear?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “I’ll leave here in about ten minutes. I
should be able to find route 24. Where do I go once I get on the
island?”
    “I am in the woods behind the Cranberryhorn
Cemetery off Cundys Harbor Road. Drive to the cemetery and call me
from there. If I have to move for any reason, I’ll let you know
where I am when you call.”
    “It will take me about two hours to get there. It’s
9:30 now, so I should arrive just before noon. I’ll call you when I
find the cemetery. Keep your chin up,” I said, in the most
reassuring tone I could muster. I was more than a little
apprehensive myself, but I hoped it might provide her some
comfort.
    “Thanks, Jesse. Oh…and please don’t tell anyone about me. No one! Until I can sort this out, I have
to be invisible.”
    “You have my word.”
    “Thank you so much,” she said, almost
crying.
    And with that we both hung up.
    • • •
    I walked briskly down to the lake. When I
reached the cabin, Michael was in the hammock on the porch staring
out at the lake, absorbed in his private thoughts. Tyler was
sitting on the top step and spoke to me as soon as we made eye
contact. “Do you still want to go out