He had changed into a bathing suit and was toting a bulky carrying case loaded with two sets of snorkel tubes, face masks, and swim fins. “Don’t go with him,” she said urgently. He stopped in the middle of the loggia and set down the case. “What?” “Out to the reef. Don’t go.” “Why not?” She couldn’t say, exactly. There were no words for it. In the kitchen a few minutes earlier, Jack had acted odd again, vaguely menacing—yet when she replayed the incident in her mind, she could find nothing definite to object to. He had asked if she wanted help with the dishes. Had said he wanted to be liked. A perfectly innocent exchange. Hardly one that should have left her frightened and unsettled. Yet it had. It had. “I’ve got a bad feeling, that’s all.” Steve smiled. “Like a man-eating shark is gonna get me?” “Not a shark. A snake.” She turned toward the French doors. Through the sun-streaked glass, Jack was visible in a far corner of the patio, petting the dog.
