“I have my sources,” she said. It was only then that Adam recognized her, from some weekly piece-of-trash news show on one of the 24-hour news stations. He felt sick, but he downed the rest of his whisky anyway. The trick is to remain calm in these sorts of situations. Not let on that you’re dying a little inside.

“Get out,” he said, his voice low and dark. So much for remaining calm. Yasmine smiled at him, a knowing smile, a cat with a fucking mouse in her mouth.

—

Lake Superior seems calm from a distance, but Adam knows that can be deceiving. Just like the surface can be deceiving, all 31,700 square miles of it. What Adam knows about Lake Superior: the Ojibwe call it gichigami, which means “big water,” and there is enough water in it to cover the entire land mass of North and South America to a depth of one foot. It is the largest lake in the world by surface area, and is fed by over two hundred rivers. Its temperature below 110 fathoms is consistently 39 degrees. What Adam knows about Lake Superior is the same thing everyone else with an internet connection knows. Which is to say, statistics, factoids, trivia. He doesn’t know the duration of a Lake Superior seiche after a northwesterly wind. He doesn’t know Lake Superior. He probably never will.

Adam has spent his life surrounded by oceans, by tides and salt, the Gulf Stream and the Equatorial Countercurrent, trade winds and westerlies. Who knows what would happen if he suddenly submerged himself into a freshwater ecosystem? Maybe he would bloat up and die, the way a mackerel would, or a tuna. The way a shark would. Of course the way a shark would.

But still, if it was out there, he could find it. He is Adam fucking Pelley. He could adapt.

Monday

TWENTY-SIX

Shawn wakes up and he is alone.

He can’t remember another time he was alone in his own home for an entire night. The room is bright and cold, the air conditioner cranked up and the blinds wide open. Katriina must close them every night before they go to bed. What else does she do that he doesn’t notice? What other kind of household magic does she produce behind the scenes with a little smoke and mirrors? He had never thought of Katriina as a deceptive person until last night. Now, it’s as if everything in their life has been operating on a frequency he can’t quite tune to, as if even the simple act of opening and closing the blinds has become layered with meaning.