Daniel Reed knew something was wrong before he reached his back door.
The outdoor lights were still burning at eleven in the morning, and the shade sail above his patio had been taken down.
He had left both lights off and the sail firmly secured when he drove to his sister’s house the previous evening.
The pool came into view through the glass, and he stopped with his hand on the door handle.
A heavy tarp covered the shallow end, while three wooden boards drifted near the submerged steps.
Something thin and dark crossed the water below the surface.
His neighbor Carol Mercer stood behind the fence with a pair of work gloves in her hands.
She looked as though she had been expecting him.
Daniel opened the door and stepped onto the patio.


“What did you do to my pool?” he demanded.
Carol tilted her head toward the tarp.
“You should have kept your business out of mine.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only answer you deserve.”
Daniel moved toward the shallow end and noticed one board move against the direction of the wind.
A hooked metal bracket gleamed underneath it, secured to a length of submerged cable.
He stopped a few feet from the edge.
The arrangement did not resemble a clumsy prank, and it certainly did not resemble a repair.
“You were trying to trap somebody,” he said.
Carol’s expression changed from satisfaction to alarm.
A car door slammed behind the house.
Two strangers came through the open side gate, a woman in a charcoal jacket and a broad-shouldered man wearing work boots.


The woman identified herself as Investigator Lena Ortiz from the county’s major-crimes unit.
Her companion, Investigator Marcus Bell, showed Daniel a badge before turning toward Carol.
“Mrs. Mercer, please stay where you are,” Ortiz said.
Carol dropped her gloves.
“I was going to call the police myself,” she replied.
“You will have an opportunity to explain everything.”
Bell carried a clear evidence sleeve containing photographs of the backyard taken before sunrise.
The first showed Carol climbing through Daniel’s side gate with boards under her arm.
The second showed her pushing a coil of wire across the patio.
In the third, a tall man wearing a blue maintenance jacket leaned over the pool beside her.
His face appeared clearly in the porch light.
“Who is that?” Daniel asked.
Ortiz studied Carol rather than the photograph.
“His name is Gideon Price, and we’ve been looking for him for three weeks.”
Carol tried to speak but produced only a breath.
“He was not supposed to come back,” she whispered.
Daniel looked from the photograph to the objects floating in his pool.
“Come back for what?”
Ortiz’s expression sharpened.
“When is your pool technician scheduled to arrive?”
“Noon, usually.”
“What is her name?”
“Isabel Vega.”
Bell reached for his phone immediately.
The answer Daniel had given seemed to frighten both investigators more than the trap itself.
“Do not let anyone near this pool,” Ortiz said.
“Especially Isabel.”
Carol made a helpless noise behind the fence.
“I told Gideon I wouldn’t do that part,” she said.
“He said we would only keep her there until he could talk to her.”
Ortiz turned on her.
“What part, Carol?”
Carol stared at the wire beneath the water.
“The part where somebody falls.”