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Andy had a million questions, but somehow was too tired to think of where to start. Quinn Rafferty had returned to him a second time. It felt like a minor miracle.

The dial tone began to buzz, and he realized he was still holding the phone handset. He sat up straight.

“Who were you calling?” Quinn asked.

Andy shook his head, replaced the handset on the receiver. “I don’t know.”

For the first time in his life, he had no plan. Zero plan. Not a good feeling.

Quinn studied him for a moment, then said, “Time to stop playing defense.”

“Okay. What does that mean, though?”

“I think it’s time we spoke to the good folks at Whittaker’s Second Chances.”

It took Andy a moment to remember the pawnshop in Bangor. The slip of paper with the nameWhittakerand the out of service phone number they had found in the cash register at Time in a Bottle—and several transactions spaced out over the last two years. Too many to be anomalies, but yet not fitting the pattern of business as usual.

“We don’t have a phone number.”

“I was thinking of a more direct approach.” At Andy’s expression, Quinn said, “It’s the best lead we’ve got.”

“Isit?” Andy filled Quinn in on his impromptu meeting with Sirius in the parking lot behind Pat’s Place.

Quinn heard him out in silence, scratched his jaw absently in a gesture Andy remembered from years gone by. “We may not be looking for diamonds, but we’re after jewels of some kind. That’s what Sirius does. He’s a jewel smuggler.”

“Is that all he does? I found an import/export company called Angstrom Glencore, Inc. on the web. Is that just a front?” Andy pulled out of Quinn’s arms—which felt harder than it should have—righted his tumbled laptop, and showed Quinn the web page with Sirius’s bio and photo.

The younger version of Sirius in a one of those green Alpine hats (complete with feather) gazed urbanely back at them.

Quinn looked from the laptop to Andy in surprise. “Not bad, Andrew. No, Angstrom Glencore is a legit enterprise. Sirius inherited the company from his father, and he’s grooming his own son to take his place in due time. But Sirius also uses his connections and resources for his more lucrative sideline, which is smuggling jewels.” Quinn corrected, “Allegedly smuggling jewels. He’s never been arrested, let alone convicted. The fact that he’s on the ground in Safehaven, doing his own reconnaissance, is proof something went very wrong with this operation.”

“Sirius said that through aludicrousseries of events, Uncle C. acquired these jewels or whatever.”

“What ludicrous series of events?”

“That was all the explanation I got.”

“Well, it makes sense in as far as no way is Cutty knowingly involved in anything illegal.”

“Not a chance.”

“So, something went haywire. A double cross, a missed connection, something.” Quinn considered Sirius’s web page. “I suspect that Time in a Bottle has been used before—maybe regularly—in moving smuggling goods.”

Andy frowned. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s a tiny shop in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like Cutty gets a ton of shipments, so the idea that something incredibly valuable was mistakenly shipped here is hard to believe.”

“Accidents happen.”

“They do, true. But that would be quite a coincidence—and quite a mistake. We’ve got two separate entities absolutelyconvinced these jewels are hidden in snow globes delivered to Cutty’s shop and no other. How can they be so sure?”

Andy shrugged. He was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question.

“It reinforces my belief that Time in a Bottle was an established way station.”

“Maybe. I have trouble believing anything that valuable would be entrusted to any delivery service.”

“Exactly.” Quinn’s eyes were so bright, they almost sparkled.