Susan took each stair carefully, one hand on the rough concrete wall, one hand on the splintered wooden railing. “Have you called someone?” she asked.

“Half the basements in town are flooded,” he said. “They say it might be four days.”

She got to the bottom, to the water’s edge. The stairs led to a large unfinished room with a washer and dryer in the corner next to a stained utility sink. Two round lights the size of salad plates were affixed to two of the walls, providing about as much light as you’d find in a bar bathroom. Just enough to do your business, but not enough to see anything that might trouble you.

The man turned off the flashlight, but didn’t put it down. There was nowhere to put it. The water was opaque and bobbed with basement flotsam—a box of dryer sheets, a Christmas ornament, a soccer ball.

Susan dipped the toe of her boot in the water and felt for the edge of the step. Then another, and another. Until she was standing on the basement floor. When she took the last step she heard a sucking sound, and cold water rushed into the tops of her boots, filling them.

“I want to see Heil,” Susan said. Her feet felt heavy and cold. She had to drag them to take a step.

“He’s in here,” the man said, wading to a far door. The door was the newest thing in the room.

“I told him I could handle it,” the man continued. “But he said he wouldn’t leave until he’d saved the queen angel. They’re expensive. Five, six hundred.”

“Dollars?” Susan said, trudging after him.

“Sure. Your friend recognized her right away. Apparently he’s a bit of an aquarium enthusiast himself.”

He opened the door and Susan was engulfed in tranquil blue light.

She heard Heil shout her name from somewhere inside the room. But she didn’t have time to respond. All at once she was stumbling, her center of gravity gone, her feet out from under her. She didn’t know why at first. Then she realized that she’d been pushed from behind. She couldn’t recover from it—she fell forward, belly-flopping into the water with a splash. It was disgusting. She got water in her mouth. In her eyes. In her hair. She flipped over and sat up, the water to her armpits, and looked accusingly at the door. It was closed. He’d pushed her in and closed the door behind her.

“Asshole,” she said struggling to get up.

“Susan,” she heard Heil say again. She looked over and saw him now, standing in the water in front of a wall of ghostly blue tanks. He glanced at the water, his face tense. He was perfectly still. “Don’t move,” he said.

Chapter 47

CHAPTER

47