It was terrifying business, being married. I walked into the bedroom and Porter stood at the window. His fingers were pressed to the glass. His face was clenched in a cathartic grimace of panic and disbelief. “What is it?” “It’s—I can’t believe it.” A pulse of anger worked through me thinking that Rebel was down there as June said, looking into our window. “What is it?” He didn’t answer, but held his hand out to me while never breaking his gaze from the target of his attention. I took his hand, clammy and tense, and sidled up next to him to share his vision. Rebel stood on the center island of the pond, crouched with his hand stretched out toward the water. He spoke and if I had to guess, he was coaxing something or calling someone. “It’s the spot where I found Marie.
