“What are you doing here?” Heil asked.

“My engine stalled,” Susan said.

She moved on to the other hand now. “I was walking home and I saw your car.” Measured, steady breaths. “I wanted a ride.” Finally, she had both hands up above the waterline. Now all she had to do was get to her feet. She inhaled deeply, mentally anchored her feet to the floor, and lunged slowly forward.

It didn’t work.

She couldn’t get the leverage without her hands.

“Use your stomach muscles,” Heil said.

She was going to die because she didn’t have rock-hard abs.

Then she saw a dimple in the water, just a few feet away from her knees. Heil saw it, too. She heard his intake of breath. The adrenaline was enough to power her forward and up on her feet. She didn’t do it slowly. Water streamed down her body and rippled outward all around her. She hugged her arms and waited for something to bump against her leg. The water settled.

Susan’s panting slowed.

She looked over at Heil. “So I guess he’s the guy you’ve been looking for?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Is help on the way?”

He didn’t answer.

Surely he’d called for backup. “Is it?” she said.

He looked her in the eye. She’d never seen his face so serious. “My phone doesn’t work down here.”

She let that sink in. Okay. That was bad. But they still had options. She had a phone. A smartphone. If she couldn’t get anyone on the horn at 911, at least she should update her Facebook status. Susan Ward is: being menaced by octopuses and wants her friends to save her. “I’ll try mine,” she said. The realization hit her as soon as the words left her mouth. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She could see it sitting at the foot of the fake leather sofa. “I left my purse upstairs.”

“I thought you never put your purse down,” Heil said.

“Shut up.”

She looked up at the ceiling and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Someone help us! We’re down here! Hey!”

“I think it’s soundproof,” Heil said softly.

She squinted. He was right. There was some sort of thick padding on the walls and ceiling, held in place by a metal grid. She felt the prickly sensation of panic under her skin.

“I’ve tried,” he said.

Why would someone soundproof a room full of aquariums?

Then she realized: “He kept the kid down here,” she said.

“There’s a folded-up cot over there,” Heil said, lifting his chin toward a wall of electric-blue tanks.

The toys upstairs. The deck of cards. She was shaking. She couldn’t stop herself. “So where’s the boy now?” Susan said.

“I don’t know,” Heil said.