"That little old thing?" Ham asked. "It's probably just a mud hole."
"It's not all that little. You must be using a small-scale map."
"Well, yeah, I guess so."
"I got a glimpse of it a few minutes ago, and it looked fairly substantial. There's a little town on the shore."
"I don't see the town."
"I don't think it appears on any map; that's what intrigues me. Why don't you put your boat on the pickup and collect me early tomorrow morning. I'll explain on the way."
"Okay, you're on."
"See you then." She hung up. "You want to go fishing tomorrow, Daisy?"
Daisy made a compliant grunting noise. Holly swore sometimes that the dog could talk.
Her cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Stone. Are you on the road somewhere?"
"Yeah, I'm a few miles west, heading back toward Orchid."
"You want to see my airplane?"
"Sure, when?"
"How about right now?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm on the Piper ramp at the Vero Beach airport."
"I can be there in twenty minutes."
"The tail number is November one, two, three, tango foxtrot."
"I'll find you." She punched off and took a right on Highway 1.
Stone Barrington was standing next to his new airplane, talking to another man as she pulled up. "Stay, Daisy," she said, and got out of the car.
Stone introduced the man as his instructor, then the man left. "Climb in," he said.
She walked up the airstair door and into a leather-upholstered cabin. Four seats in club style made up the rear portion, and she climbed forward into the copilot's seat.
Stone followed her and sat in the-left seat. "What do you think?"
"It's beautiful; it even smells beautiful. Awful lot of gauges and instruments, though. I'm used to simpler airplanes, like Cessna 172s."
"It's a much more complicated aircraft," Stone said.
"When do you fly her home?"
"Probably the day after tomorrow. My first flight went well."
"Let me run something by you."