Seven it is. We’ll meet at the Witch’s Brew on Main Street, the last building before you hit the wharf. I’ll be wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

He’d missed the little black dress. His loss. But she wasn’t about to wear it again. In fact, she might burn the dress.

Ross had been one of those impulsive actions she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She’d joined an online dating service as a fluke. Ross had sounded nice, safe, and the next thing she knew she made a date with him. She felt anxious about finally meeting. Especially after last night’s imposter date and the scare he’d given her.

She turned in time to see a familiar figure passing outside her office on the other side of the street. Kat hurried out of the office to catch Tommy, and was almost to him when she saw a man in an old army jacket stop the boy on the street, show him something and then head toward her.

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching her.

She just assumed he was one of the panhandlers who passed through town in the summer, bumming money for food or gas.

“Excuse me,” he said, smiling, but the smile did nothing to warm his gray eyes. He had a scar on his left cheek that looked like a crescent moon. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine.” He held out a snapshot in his palm. “Maybe you’ve seen him?”

She tried to hide her surprise as she stared at the photo of two men, the one standing before her sans the scar on his cheek and her mystery date holding a basketball and looking hot and sweaty. Both wore shorts and T-shirts, both were tanned and in great shape, and both were smiling into the camera as if they were the best of friends.

So, Kat wondered as she looked up at the man, why didn’t she believe it?

“Sorry,” she said, and started to move past him.

“You’re sure?” he asked, touching her arm to detain her. His tone as well as his expression seemed a little too intense, a little too desperate.

She pulled out of his reach, stepping back as she moved away from him. “I’m sure.”

As she hurried after Tommy, crossing the street when he did, she realized that she should have at least asked the stranger the name of the other man in the photo. But he’d made her uncomfortable. She wondered what he wanted with her mystery date. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, she’d bet on that.

“Hi!” she said, catching up with Tommy in front of Bait & Tackle, the local bait shop.

The boy flinched as if she’d hit him. He glanced around nervously, looking guilty as hell. “Hi.” He seemed to wait expectantly for her to tell him what she wanted. She’d forgotten what fifteen was like. Just as she’d forgotten seventeen, it seemed.

“I noticed you going past and I haven’t seen you for a while,” she said.

He nodded, still waiting.

“I saw that man stop you,” she said, turning to look back down the street. The man in the army jacket was gone. “What did he ask you?”

Tommy seemed relieved, as if she’d asked him something he didn’t mind answering. “He said he was with the FBI and that he was looking for a man and had I seen him.”

A different story. “Had you seen him?” she asked.

Tommy shook his head.

She realized Tommy was again waiting patiently to see what she wanted with him. “You know I have a job opening at my office for the summer, and I thought—”

“I have a job,” Tommy interrupted.

“Oh, shoot, I thought you’d be great at it,” she said, hoping he didn’t ask what job as she glanced back down the street. She noticed Alyssa Castor, the daughter of the owner of Madam Fleury’s—Yvette Castor. Alyssa appeared to be window-shopping—and tailing Tommy.

Kat saw the girl’s expression as she stole a look at Tommy. Kat recognized the look: idol worship. It appeared Alyssa had a major crush and, as always seemed to be the case, he didn’t even know she was alive—let alone following him.

“So where are you working?” Kat asked conversationally, watching a few tourists mingle past.

“I’m just running errands for a few guys,” Tommy said, sounding both defensive and evasive, two sure giveaways, if there were any.

“Em’s looking for a job.” She hoped. “Errands, huh? Here, along Waterfront?”

He squirmed a little. “Just for Ernie here at Bait & Tackle and Brody at the Wharf Rat and some other guys.”

She nodded, trying to imagine what errands someone like Brody at the Wharf Rat—a bar—would have for a fifteen-year-old boy. Alyssa had stopped a door behind them pretending to admire a huge gargoyle in one of the witch-shop windows. “Maybe you could run errands for me, too.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty busy already, you know.”

She didn’t know, but she planned to find out. “So what type of errands could I maybe get you to do for me? If you had time? Get me lunch? Or take packages to the post office? What do you do for the other guys?”

Before Tommy could answer, loud angry voices erupted from the bar in question. An instant later, a man came flying out of the bar’s front door as if thrown. He stumbled and fell to the bricks, followed quickly by another.