And as my sister-in-law fumbled for her phone to dial emergency services, I watched Marcus begin, slowly, to back away toward the hallway doors, his own cell phone gripped tight in his hand.

Chapter 9 — We Have a Problem

Chloe was still clutching her father’s hand.

And suddenly, from somewhere deep in Mark’s throat, there came a low, raspy, barely audible groan, the sound of a man surfacing from very far down.

The room gasped.

But I was no longer looking at my husband.

I was looking at Marcus, and at the phone glowing in his hand, which he had lifted to type something, forgetting, in his panic, to angle it away from me.

And over his shoulder, on that glowing screen, I saw the text message he had just sent.