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Pulling away from Patrick, I pointed toward the pool.
“What?” she asked.
“Right there. He’s dead.” My voice came out in a whisper.
“Who’s dead?” Keith asked.
“Where?” Emily moved closer, her flip-flops slapping the wooden planks. She stopped, waiting for Keith. Holding hands, they walked to the edge of the deck and looked down as the increasing wind whipped their shirts against their backs.
Emily let out a cry that sounded like something breaking. She shoved her fist into her teeth, biting down on her knuckles, shaking her head. Her black hair with its dark red tones shimmered under the overhead lights, swinging wildly around her face. She yanked her hand away from her mouth. “Oh my God!”
I ran to her and she threw her arms around me, squeezing me so hard, my spine made a cracking sound between my shoulder blades.
“What the hell!” Keith’s voice drowned out Emily’s soft crying. He hurried down the steps leading to the pool. He rushed to the edge of the water, looking around wildly. “We need to help him. Why are you just standing there? Get the pole so we can…” He stopped talking and began untying his shoes, pulling off his shirt.
“Don’t get in the water!” Patrick ran down the steps. He grabbed Keith’s upper arm. “He’s dead. Can’t you see that? Don’t go in there. It’s toxic.”
Emily and I joined them beside the pool, the four of us standing in a line along the shallow end, looking helplessly at the man floating there. In a single movement, as if we’d planned it, all of us turned away.
Patrick pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the police.”
“No!” Keith reached toward Patrick’s phone. “You can’t. We need to figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” Patrick tapped the screen.
Keith knocked Patrick’s hand with such force, the phone flipped out, sailing through the air and splashing into the pool.
“Why did you do that? You wrecked my phone!” Patrick shouted.
“Calling the police is not a good idea,” Keith said.
Emily nodded.
I put my arm around her waist. I closed my eyes, imagining a police officer badgering me with questions, not believing anything I said. I thought about them swarming through the house, pulling everything apart, searching for something that existed only in their minds. And if that memory wasn’t debilitating enough, I thought about my dream—Patrick immersed in the love and devotion between Emily and Keith, all day every day. The whole thing would go up in smoke once the police were involved in our lives.
“You’re out of your mind,” Patrick said. “Of course we’re calling the police.”
“You don’t know cops like I do,” Keith said. “Trust me, it’s not a good idea.”
“Do you know him?” Patrick nodded his head toward the swimming pool.
We all shook our heads.
“Keith’s right, though—it’s a terrible idea to call the police.” As Emily spoke, the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. The wind was literally howling through the trees, stirring the water into angry waves.
“What’s this?” Emily picked up a juice bottle sitting near the door of the pool supply shed. She held it up so we could see the folded piece of paper inside. She twisted off the cap and pulled out the scrap of paper, unfolded it, and scanned the note. Without speaking, her hand trembling, she handed it to me.
No wonder she’d read it so fast. There were only two words.
YOU’RE NEXT.
FOUR
SAMANTHA
The temperature continued to drop as we stood there, frozen in place. We’d known rain was expected, but this was more threatening. After a few minutes, I had to widen my stance so the wind didn’t force me to lose my balance. I saw the others doing the same. A late spring storm in the Sierra Nevada mountains usually meant lightning.
The ferocity of the wind that whipped the treetops and caused the poolside chairs to skitter sideways, had pushed the body closer to the edge of the pool.
