After knocking several times, Sarah started to worry that amid all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, she and Matthew had somehow messed up the day or the time. They left their bags on the porch and went around to the back of the house, where an overgrown lawn led down to the creek. No one was in either of the two hot-pink Adirondack chairs at the water’s edge, nor under the café lights at the outdoor dining table, laden with the detritus of what looked like lunchtime. Across the creek there was a house next to the footbridge. Someone had strung up a faded flag as a makeshift shade over several plastic chairs. Thinking it could be a Confederate flag, she felt immediately ill, but she also realized it could be any flag; the sun had blasted it beyond recognition. She’d become paranoid and on edge long before yesterday; the mugging merely gave her a more concrete reason to be wary beyond the day-to-day national news. The sound of the creek was faint but vaguely wholesome. It was, she realized, a beautiful day.

“Where are they?” she wondered aloud.

Just then, two boys came charging out from behind a stone wall, shooting their bright orange Nerf guns.

Sarah screamed.

Matthew called out, “Whoa!”

The boys ran past them—“Sorry! Sorry!”—the way only kids can pull off apologizing, exuberance somehow trumping insincerity. A hammock hung between two oak trees. It was the kind she’d seen in Baja—solid fabric, like a big sheet—great for napping. A woman popped up and a man laughed while still lying down.

“Well,” the man said, “guess y’all won that round.”

The boys collected their Nerf darts and ran back toward the creek, talking.

“Little devils,” said the woman.

“They’re all right,” said the man.

“Oh, crap!” the woman cried, noticing Sarah and Matthew. “I’m so sorry! Was that you?” She awkwardly unfolded herself from the man. She flopped out of the hammock. “I heard those screams and assumed it was our friend. I’m really sorry—we didn’t see you! I’m Heather.”

“Hi,” Matthew said; Sarah might have nodded.

Was the woman a babysitter? She had messy platinum hair, a diamond in her nose; running shorts and an undershirt and the man stretched out in the hammock. “I’m Karim,” he said, not getting up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sarah showcased her face with a flourish of her hand. “This was just—a crazy accident.”

“Oh—no, I didn’t mean—I hadn’t noticed that. Sorry, though. What I meant was—you screamed loud!” He was smiling warmly, but also as if he was trying to figure out just how unstable she was. “You came from the city?”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah now rushed to say, “but do you know Kiki and Arman?”