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It was as if someone threw all the doors and windows open. Music washed over the sea of chairs, flooding through the theater like a sudden gust of clean, cold air. Everyone seemed to take a deep breath and relax.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Dylan slid down in his seat, as though settling in.

He wasn’t the only one. Lara was on solid ground as she belted out the song with all the energy and confidence of an actual performance.

“I know how the cards play out…”

Ellery’s gaze wandered. He saw Neilson join Jocasta in the first row, and didn’t think he imagined the look of melting sympathy Jo threw her brother-in-law.

He observed them for a moment before turning his attention back to the stage. He had not been inside the theater before, but he’d heard a lot about it.

The Loon Landing Boathouse Theater had begun life in the 1800s as a working boathouse on the estate of Quinton Jones. The boathouse had sheltered Jones’s pride and joy, a motorboat namedThe Merlin, until the boat and Jones were lost off the coast in a summer storm.

By the 1960s, the Joneses’ family fortunes had fallen, and their seventy-five-acre estate had begun to be sold off in parcels. The pretty cove with its private landing and boathouse had been one of the last pieces of land to go. It had been acquired by a Hollywood movie producer who’d planned to turn the dilapidated structure into a movie revival house. Renovations had been more than halfway complete when the producer had gone bankrupt and been forced to sell off the theater along with his summer home.

Finally, in the 1980s, Loon Landing had been acquired by Pirate Cove’s city council for the annual maritime music festival as well as other island events. That original festival had lasted a short five years and then fizzled out, only to be reborn a decade later when Dylan had arrived on the island full of enthusiasm and energy and plans to turn the island into the theatrical capital of the eastern seaboard.

Well, no. But Dylan had definitely wanted to nurture and grow the island’s small performing-arts community. Which he had done very successfully.

As for the boathouse, there had been renovations through the years—that incredible floor-to-ceiling window with its view of the ocean which formed the backdrop for the performers, was the most notable—but the theater was not in terrific shape. The stage, in particular, was not in terrific shape. After a close call the previous autumn, the old trapdoor had been nailed shut to prevent any unplanned exits from the limelight.

It was going to cost a pretty penny to make the renovations necessary to bring the structure up to current building codes, so Ellery could understand Dylan’s worry that another year in the red was liable to be the end for more than just the festival.

As someone valiantly struggling to save his own beautiful historic albatross, Ellery could sympathize.

It would be a shame to lose all that history—not to mention one of the few pieces of real estate on the island preserved as public resources for the residents’ recreation and education.

“You must be excited, Jane.” Dylan leaned past Ellery. “Hearing that scrap of music brought to life?”

Jane’s eyes lit. “Oh yes. I can’t tell you how satisfying it is.”

“Have you heard the whole song yet?”

She shook her head regretfully. “I’m going to have to wait till tomorrow night like everyone else.”

The three of them jumped in unison as a blood-curdling scream ripped through the theater, cutting off Lara’s performance. The band played a couple of horror-stricken chords before stopping.

“What the—” Dylan began.

Jocasta was on her feet, pointing up at the scaffolding, as one of the PAR can lights suddenly dropped. Everyone began to shout.

The room itself seemed to suck in a sharp collective breath as the light hurtled down toward the stage where Lara stood.

Lara, clutching her guitar to her as if it were her child, leaped aside a split second before the light smashed into the wooden planks.

Jocasta burst into tears. Neilson rushed up the steps and onto the stage. He grabbed Lara.

“Oh myGod.” Dylan was out of his seat, making his way to the stage. Ellery followed on his heels.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Lara was responding to the chorus of questions and concern as Dylan and Ellery reached the apron of the stage. She looked pale, but her voice was steady. “It missed me completely.”

“Itoldyou we needed to take these threats seriously!” Neilson was saying.

Lara glared. “I told you so?Really? That’s your contribution?”

“Because Ididtell you so!”

She planted her hand in his chest, pushing past him and walking to the edge of the stage. “Jo!For God’s sake. Pull yourself together. You’re not helping.”