I watch myself struggle and fight below the water, just a dark blur in a haze of bubbles. Without realizing it, I’m holding my breath.

Cal tenses up next to me, and I hear Dante give out an angry grunt. I know they feel as helpless as I do, watching what already took place, powerless to do anything about it.

When my figure pops back to the surface again, I take a deep breath in the stifling space of the security room. I watch little Riona haul herself out of the pool and flee to the stairs.

Having failed to murder me, the diver abandons subterfuge. He pulls himself out of the pool as well, burdened by his oxygen tank, and unable to use his right arm to its fullest extent, because of the hairpin buried in his trapezoid muscle. I can’t see the hairpin on the video screen, but I can see the stiffness of that arm, and the way the diver favors his left instead.

Ronald gives a little yelp at the sight of the diver. He hadn’t realized until that moment what he was watching.

“Who the bloody hell is that?” he cries.

We all ignore Ronald. We’re watching the diver strip off his flippers. He doesn’t seem interested in chasing me. Instead, he picks up my cell phone off the lounge chair and carries it away with him.

Only once he’s gone can I breathe freely again.

“Rewind the tape,” Cal says. “I want to see when he got in the pool.”

Ronald scrolls back and forth over the feed several times. We can’t see the diver entering the swimming pool.

“Wait,” Dante grunts, pointing with his thick finger at the screen. “What’s that?”

He’s pointing to a moment thirty minutes before I entered the pool. No figure is caught on camera. But I see ripples running outward across the water from the lower left corner of the screen.

“He got in the pool right then,” Dante says.

“He stayed offscreen.” Callum frowns. “He knew how to avoid the camera.”

“Is that the only way up to the roof?” Dante asks Ronald, pointing to the main entryway.

“No.” Ronald shakes his head. “There’s a maintenance elevator on the other side. You can’t see it on camera. I told them we really should have two per floor, pointing in both directions—”

“Who has access to the maintenance elevator?” Cal interrupts.

“Just the doormen and the building superintendent,” Ronald says. “But none of us would be putting on scuba suits and attacking residents!”

He puffs up indignantly, like Cal was suggesting Ronald himself might have been the one hiding in the pool.

“Give me that video,” Cal says.

“What?” Ronald sputters. “I have to report this, I—”

“You’re not telling anyone about this,” Dante growls. “Give us a copy of the video, then delete it.”

“I can’t do that! I could lose my job!”

“Ronald,” I interject, using my most reasonable tone. “I was almost murdered in the pool, because an unknown person gained access to your building. If anything’s going to make you lose your job, it’s the lawsuit I’ll file against you, the property management company, and the owners of this building, if you don’t give me that video right now.”