I wasn’t scared and I should have been. I’m still not scared. Maybe it’s because there’s no point in it. Being afraid of Carrie Grethen serves no useful purpose. It’s possible I gave up that normal human response long years ago and wasn’t really aware of it until now.

“It’s so frustrating that the figure you’re pointing out isn’t identifiable,” Donoghue is saying. “I can’t even tell it’s a woman. But whoever it was this person allowed you to live.”

“I wouldn’t say she allowed me to live,” I reply hotly.

“But she did.” Lucy pauses the video, looking at me. “Whether you like it or not. That’s what happened. Carrie didn’t want you or Benton dead. At least at that very moment she didn’t because it’s not part of her long-term plan.”

“Be careful saying things like that,” Donoghue reprimands her. “You need to avoid any appearance that you can think Carrie Grethen’s thoughts or predict her behavior.”

“Well I can,” Lucy says. “I can think like her and predict what she’ll do, and I promise that whatever she’s set in motion is just starting. That’s not speculation. It’s a fact you’re about to witness because it’s already unrolling even as we speak.”

“Do you think Carrie has something to do with why the FBI is on your property?” Donoghue asks.

“What do you think.” It’s not a question, and Lucy resumes the video and then backs it up.

We again watch the hooded figure emerge from around the hulk of the barge, and Lucy explains that clamped to Carrie’s tank is a diver propulsion vehicle (DPV), a small black plastic cylinder that’s difficult to see. It’s hands free, making it possible for Carrie to maneuver nimbly and quickly underwater while managing a railgun and spears. The sound I heard was the quiet vibration of the battery-powered motor, Lucy says, and it’s the first time I’ve known this. I always thought I heard something strange but I never knew what it was or if I might have imagined it.

The whining power tool sound came from the sort of underwater scooter Navy SEALs use, Lucy points out, adding that none of us was any match for Carrie Grethen. Not the two divers she murdered. Not Benton. Not me. We didn’t arm ourselves. We didn’t have the advantage of a DPV propelling us at 170 feet per minute. We couldn’t have caught her. We couldn’t have gotten away from her either.

IT’S PAST NOON when Marino returns with Desi. I hear their feet on the dock. Then they’re walking through the door and shutting it behind them.