Behind you, the Figure Eight hummed with its usual evening soundtrack: sprinklers hissing across manicured lawns, ice clinking in glasses someone else poured, and the distant thrum of boats returning to their slips. Everything in its place. Everything exactly as it was supposed to be.

Except you weren't where you were supposed to be.

You'd told your father you were going to Sarah's for dinner. A small lie, harmless in its construction, devastating in its implications. Because instead of walking up the Camerons' pristine driveway, you'd slipped down to the water's edge, where the neighborhood's perfection started to fray into something wilder.

That's where you found him.