The Harbor

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To Joe Fessenden of the Maine Marine Patrol, my detective cousin Gregory Harrell, Heidi Gould of the Jay (ME) Police Department, Christine Wenger and probation officer and firearms instructor Glen Stone of Syracuse, New York-many thanks for your time, patience and expertise… and for the work that you do.

The long days of summer had come to an end, and as Olivia West sat at her kitchen table on the dark, cold October morning, she knew she wouldn't live to see another Maine summer. Tomorrow she would turn one hundred and one. But it wasn't just the odds catching up with her that led to her quiet certainty that she'd reached her sunset-she just knew. She had months, perhaps only days. Hours.

Her nephew, Patrick, wasn't deterred by autumn's shorter days. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from her. He always stopped by before his walk in the nature preserve, which was just northeast of the brown-shingled 1890s house at the mouth of Goose Harbor where Olivia had lived her entire hundred years. She and Patrick both liked to be up to see the sunrise. It was one thing they had in common. Perhaps the only thing.

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