On the hillside surrounding the marina, air conditioners droned, while from down on the water came the occasional squeak of Styrofoam dock supports and lap of gentle waves. Drooping strings of yellow dock lights joined halogen lamps perched atop wooden poles to provide pockets of illumination amid the shadows. The night was sleepy, silent, and, Holly thought, more than a little scary. What else could she expect when arriving with vandalism on her mind? "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered, as she tucked her hair beneath the baseball cap Grace brought for purposes of disguise. "I'm a teacher, a role model for children. Nowhere on my Life List does it say anything about committing a felony." "Oh, hush." Wearing a stylish ash blond wig from her chemo days, Grace keyed open the trunk of her six-year-old Ford and gestured toward the bag of supplies they'd purchased at the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart half an hour earlier. "You remind me of my youngest granddaughter. Child whines more than a circular saw." "I'm not whining." Holly retrieved the sack from Grace's arm, wincing as the cans inside clinked together.
