Archie and Flannigan got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Archie bent down and picked up a mushy cigarette butt from the concrete stoop. It had berry lipstick around the filter.

He rang the doorbell.

They waited.

No one answered.

The rain flowing through the house’s gutters sounded like a waterfall.

Flannigan banged on the door with the side of his fist.

“Look around back,” Archie said.

Flannigan jogged off across the muddy yard and disappeared around the side of the house.

Archie tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. No one in Portland locked their doors. It was one of the reasons the city had such a high burglary rate.

He opened the door. “Police,” he said. “Anyone home?”

Archie listened. All he could hear was the sound of the overwhelmed gutters and the rain sweeping against the windows.

A trail of wet footprints led away from the door and across the carpet. “Hello?” he said. He took a small step inside, just onto the mat, and looked around.

He unsnapped his holster and put his hand on his gun. His eyes immediately fell on Susan’s purse sitting by the sofa.

His shoulders tensed. “Susan?” he called. “Heil?”

Archie drew his gun. “This is the police,” he said again. “I’m coming in.” He moved slowly into the house and made his way to the kitchen, following the footprints.

Flannigan met him at the back door. “Car’s gone,” he said. “There’s a garage out back.”

“Susan’s purse is in the living room,” Archie said. The footprints ended at the basement door. “Call for backup. I’m going down there.” He swung the basement door open and saw the brown water below. “Shit,” he said.

“This is the police,” Archie yelled. “I’m coming down the stairs.”

He drew his weapon and took the stairs sideways with his gun held at a forty-degree angle. The flooded room at the bottom of the stairs was empty, but there was another door. It had been left ajar and Archie could see the distinctive blue glow of aquarium lights.

He moved into the thigh-deep water, bracing against the cold, and made his way to the door. A round glass Christmas ornament floated past him. “Susan?” he called again.

The door was steel—a fire door—the owner of the house wanted to protect whatever was in there. Archie raised his gun and pushed it open.

The room was full of fish.

The tanks lit the room with an aqua gleam.

There was no one in there. They were gone.

Archie lowered his gun.

Then he saw something in the water.

It bobbed at the surface, a knot of flesh—the size of a golf ball. Archie took a step back. The water in the room was full of blue-ringed octopuses.

He counted a half dozen, at least.

They were all at the surface, limp, not moving.