The woman looks young and fit in a three-millimeter-thick black wet suit with double white stripes around the right thigh. Her fins and mask are black, and her hair is brown, and then I notice the zipper. It stops me in my tracks, startling me. I search my memory for what I saw in the video my dive mask recorded. I remember the double white stripes on the leg of the wet suit Benton was wearing as he tried to place the regulator into my mouth, and then I catch myself.

How can I be sure it was Benton? He’s always said he helped me to the surface after I was shot. I’ve never had a reason to doubt him until today, until this very minute, and I envision what Lucy played for me inside the boathouse. In truth I couldn’t identify the diver in the video. I couldn’t swear it was Benton, and I didn’t notice the person’s wet suit zipper either. But in these photographs I’m looking at now the wet suit looks the same as what I saw earlier today—and the zipper is in front. Most are in back with a very long pull tab so you can reach around and zip yourself up.

Chest zippers are relatively new. Some people find them preferable because the neoprene isn’t as restrictive when a zipper doesn’t run the length of the wet suit in back. I tend to associate chest zippers with tactical divers, with the police and military, and no wet suit Benton or I own zips in front. It wasn’t him in the video. It wasn’t my FBI husband. I don’t know who it was or why the person was there or if the diver I’m looking at right now in these photographs inside Chanel Gilbert’s library saved my life and now is dead.

I walk around and study every photograph, estimating that the woman in them is medium height and weighs approximately 130 pounds. She’s looking directly into the camera, and I continue superimposing that image on what I saw earlier today. I’m almost certain they’re the same person but when I examined the dead body this morning, the hair was so bloody it was difficult to tell the color.

The nose was broken, the eyes almost swollen shut. The photo on Chanel’s driver’s license wasn’t recent and her face was fuller, her hair lighter and longer. But I believe she and the diver are one and the same. This can’t be a coincidence. In fact it’s part of the plan. Not my plan. Not Marino’s plan. Carrie’s plan.

The Bermuda Triangle. Where I was shot.