Suddenly everything was incredibly still, the water waist-high, cold, and black, without a ripple on its surface.

“Susan,” Archie called, his voice hoarse, looking around in the darkness. “Patrick?”

The damage was obvious all around him. Half the cherry trees from the Japanese American Plaza were gone, a car was on its side, half submerged, all the windows of the storefronts were broken. The chair from inside the aquarium store floated by.

He heard splashing nearby, and turned to see a man’s clawing hand emerge from the water. Archie reached for it instinctively. It grabbed hold, and Archie pulled the person to the surface, expecting to see Flannigan.

But it was Elroy Carey who came up bellowing.

He exploded from the water and got his hands around Archie’s neck. Archie was knocked off balance and fell back into waist-deep water. Carey fell on top of him, and Archie flailed at Carey’s wrists, trying to pry them off, but the water stole all his leverage.

It also stole Carey’s.

Archie held his breath, put his feet together, bent his knees, and kicked Carey in the shins. The force pushed Carey’s feet out from under him and he belly-flopped forward, losing his grip. Archie got out from under him and came to the surface for air.

But Carey got his footing back and turned and came back at him.

Carey’s head was matted and bleeding. He’d been knocked against something when the flood surge hit. His skull had been cracked open. Archie could see the pink shimmer of brain tissue where Carey’s wet brown hair parted around the wound. Rage and adrenaline were the only things keeping him on his feet.

Archie reached for his gun, but the flood had ripped the holster right off his belt.

Carey lunged for him.

But Archie was ready. Carey had killed Heil. He’d taken Patrick Lifton from his family. He’d tried to kill Henry. He deserved to die.

Archie clenched his fist and swung hard for Carey’s head wound. His fist slammed against bone and hair and something slippery. It knocked Carey over on his side, back into the water.

Carey pulled himself to his feet, doubled over, heaving, soaked in filthy water.

He lifted his head and looked sideways at Archie.

Blood gushed from his scalp, over his face, into his eyes, and down his chest. He adjusted the suspenders of his waders. His eyes rolled back. And he sank to his knees, disappearing almost completely beneath the water. He managed to stay there for a moment, only his forehead visible, the gaping wound pulsing blood. Then it sank below the surface. Archie watched until the bubbles stopped. It only took a few minutes. He waited a few minutes more, just to be sure. Then he felt for the body, and lifted it by the shirt collar.