"Sure. But that's all I've got at the moment. Long shots."

"I can see that." Sullivan came to a halt and stabbed the cane into the sand a few times. He gave Nick a beatific smile. "Now that that's settled, how about I do you a favor and give you some time to yourself?"

"You offering to babysit?"

"Figured I'd take Carson back to Portland with me for a few days. Lillian and I can look after him while Gabe and Hamilton argue about the details of the merger. You'll have time to work on finding that missing painting."

"Sure. If he wants to go, you're welcome to take him with you, but don't pretend that you're trying to do me any favors. You just want another opportunity to mold him in your image. You think you can turn him into the next major empire builder in the family."

"You've got to admit, the boy's got a flair for business."

Sullivan chuckled. "Remember how much money he made off that lemonade stand he set up in front of the house a few months ago when you brought him down to Phoenix? Talk about a natural aptitude."

Nick regarded his son playing with Winston and felt a rush of pride. "We'll see."

"We will, indeed. By the way, don't tell me that I'm not doing you any favors by removing young Carson from the vicinity for a while. I'd think you'd appreciate me giving you a little space in which to do your courting."

"Courting." Nick stumbled over a rocky outcropping. He caught his balance and glowered at Sullivan. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I figure I owe you that much," Sullivan continued smoothly, "after the way I tried to coerce you into taking over Harte Investments. And I've got to say, I think you've made a fine choice. I'm rather fond of Octavia."

"Damn it, who said anything about me courting Octavia Brightwell?"

"Gives me a good feeling to be helping you out like this. I do believe I'm getting downright sentimental in the twilight of my life."

"Twilight, my ass. You're not getting sentimental, you're still trying to run things, the way you always have."

"What can I say? It's in the blood."

They set out for Portland two hours later. Sullivan waited until they passed the You Are Now Leaving Eclipse Bay sign before he picked up the cell phone and punched out Mitchell's number.

"Well?" Mitchell demanded. "Did you get Nick straightened out?"

Sullivan glanced at Carson seated beside him. The boy was immersed in a book about dogs. "There's no need to worry about my grandson's, uh, association with Miss Brightwell."

Mitchell snorted loudly on the other end. "So you say."

"You'll have to take my word on that subject, Mitch. Meanwhile, something has come up in regard to that missing painting. Nick's got a hunch that there's a personal angle here. He thinks the thief might be someone who is still holding a grudge because of what happened when Claudia took Harte-Madison apart."

"But you and I were the ones who went bankrupt all those years ago. As far as I know we were the only people who got ripped off. Why the hell would anyone else still hold a grudge?"

"I don't know. I suggest we start with a list of everyone we knew at the time who might have had anything to do with Claudia and Harte-Madison."

"That's gonna take some thinking."

"I know. Tell you what. You put your list together and I'll make up mine. Then we can talk and compare notes. Maybe something will hit us."

"I'll see what I can do." Mitch paused. "You're sure Nick is gonna get his act together with Octavia?"

"Count on it."

Sullivan ended the call and looked at Carson. "Picked out the kind of dog you want?"

"I want one just like Winston."

"Can't go wrong with another Winston." Sullivan ruffled the boy's hair, then reached into his briefcase. "That reminds me, I brought a printout of your investment portfolio with me. Want to see how those lemonade profits are doing?"

Carson slammed the dog book closed. "How much money did I make?" he asked excitedly.

"You did very well with those ten shares in Fast Toy, Inc."

"I told you they made good toys."

"So you did." Sullivan put the brokerage statement on the seat between them. "Take a look at that bottom line. You made three hundred dollars."

"Oh, wow." Carson snatched up the statement and immediately started asking questions about the various entries.

Sullivan settled back against the seat and prepared to indulge himself in one of his favorite hobbies: teaching his eager great-grandson the finer points of investment strategies.

Life was good, he thought. He had Carson, and two hours ago Hannah had informed him that he was soon to become a great-grandfather for the second time. Judging by the intimacy and the joy he witnessed when he was with Gabe and Lillian, he was almost certain there would be more good news coming from that quarter one of these days.

All he had to do was get Nick and Octavia on the right track and life would be damn near perfect.

An eerie green light emanated from Arizona's War Room. Octavia studied the glow seeping around the edge of the heavy steel door with great interest.

"Think maybe she's thawing some of those frozen space aliens she claimed the institute was trying to hide a few months ago?" she asked.

"When it comes to A.Z. and her conspiracy theories, nothing would surprise me." Nick pushed open the door and stood back to allow Octavia to enter the room.

In any normal house, the space would probably have been described by the architect as a study. But Arizona didn't live in a normal house. Her cabin was fortified with locking metal shutters on all the windows. The doors had been reinforced with steel bolts. Rumor had it that Arizona had six months' worth of supplies and food stored on the premises.

Octavia had lived in Eclipse Bay long enough to know that the reason no one in town got nervous about Arizona was because it was a fact that she had no interest in weapons of any kind. In her bizarre fantasy world, her mission was to collect and analyze intelligence data on the various conspiracies she was certain lay just below the surface at the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute. The fact that the institute dismissed her as a quaint, local eccentric suited Arizona just fine. As she had explained to Octavia on one occasion, the disdain from the institute staff only made her job of spying on them simpler.

Octavia stepped into the War Room and saw that the mysterious green light radiated from a computer screen. Three people garbed in flowing robes and wearing a lot of the vaguely Egyptian-style jewelry favored by the Heralds sat hunched over the table. Two of them were going through heavy, leather-bound log books. The third was pounding away on the keyboard. They barely glanced up when Octavia and Nick entered.

There was a spartan, military-spare look to the furnishings. A large topographical map of Eclipse Bay was laminated to the surface of a massive desk. Rows of log books were arranged on the metal shelving that lined one wall.

Arizona, dressed in her customary camouflage-patterned fatigues, occupied the aging wooden chair behind the desk. A chubby, unlit cigar stuck out of the corner of her mouth. The narrow beam from the desk lamp was aimed low to illuminate the topo map. Most of Arizona's face was in shadow.

"About time you two got here." Arizona motioned toward the chairs that sat opposite her on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat. Coffee?"

Octavia glanced toward the machine in the corner. She could detect the unmistakable odor of burned coffee from where she stood. The glass pot had been sitting on the hot plate for a long, long time.

"No, thanks," she said politely. She took one of the chairs. "I've had enough today."