Inside, the cool air carried the faint tang of lemon and fresh-cut hay drifting through the open kitchen window. Savannah had already poured three tall glasses, each beaded with condensation, and was perched on the sofa, eyes fixed on a cartoon. The closed captioning rolled in neat white letters across the bottom of the screen.

Ryder gave Isobel a gentle motion toward the kitchen island. She slipped onto one of the wide-backed stools, her fingers brushing the polished edge of the marble ...