realized he must look like a crazy person, standing there dripping in his wet bathing suit, eyes wild, out of breath. He didn’t care.
Seconds later, from the direction of the pool, Timothy heard the sound of screaming.
13.
Timothy rushed past several of the college students who had wandered toward the pool entrance. Underneath the diving platforms, a group of people stood at the edge of the pool, raising a commotion. One of his teammates, a younger girl, was crying. In the water, the rest of the swim team held on to the lane lines. They had all stopped swimming and were paying attention to what was happening in the deep end.
Suddenly, Thom burst through the surface of the water from below. He was wearing all his clothes. He was holding someone in his arms. He kicked toward the edge of the pool, calling out for everyone to give him room. By the time Thom had reached the side, Timothy had managed to make his way through the crowd. That was when he realized who Thom was struggling to pull out of the water.
Stuart.
He was unconscious. His skin was a strange bluish color. Thom managed to lay Stuart out flat. He leaned toward Stuart’s face, feeling for breath. After a couple seconds, Thom began pressing on Stuart’s chest with both hands.
“What happened?” Timothy asked an older boy standing beside him.
“Not sure,” said the boy. “The kid was down really deep. Thom thought he was fooling around, you know? He kept calling to him, but he wouldn’t come up. So Thom jumped in.”
The coach breathed into Stuart’s mouth, then lifted his head. “Someone call an ambulance!” he shouted. He continued pressing on Stuart’s chest. “And his parents!”
Timothy felt the same way he had in the locker room, when the rows of lockers seemed to have rearranged themselves. Lost. Was this really happening? Maybe this was all a dream—a nightmare like the one he’d had the night before about his brother. He closed his eyes and told himself to wake up. But when he opened his eyes, nothing changed.
Just then, Stuart shuddered. He coughed huge, wet, choking breaths. Timothy hugged himself.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, he thought to no one in particular.
THE HAUNTING OF ABIGAIL TREMENS
INTERLUDE
WAL-MART SUPERCENTER—VERO BEACH, FLORIDA
“Just let me know if you need a different size,” said the salesgirl.
“I will,” said the older woman, slipping into the dressing room and closing the door behind her.
Emma Huppert had needed a new bathing suit for years but hadn’t wanted to shop for one until she’d lost a little weight. At her age, she found it harder than ever. Though finally this year, Emma had managed to stick with her resolution.
Emma adjusted the strap and examined herself in the mirror. The floral pattern was flattering, and the skirt that flirted out at the waist hid the parts that needed to be hidden. “Perfect,” Emma whispered to herself. She lived so close to the beach but hadn’t been in the water for at least a decade. This would be a nice change. Something to do other than play bingo all day with the rest of the white-haired ladies in the retirement community.
The doorknob rattled, and Emma jumped. “There’s someone in here!” she called over the door. She waited for an apology, but none came. “Rude,” she whispered.
She and Bill had left Massachusetts almost twenty years ago, but Florida never really felt like home. So many tourists always passing through. So many seasonal friends who came and went.
Emma often had to force herself to remember New Starkham. This bathing suit was her way of trying to get some of that feeling back, if only to swim in the same ocean she had when she’d been young. Not that all memories of her hometown were pleasant.
The doorknob rattled again, harder this time, as if someone was frantically trying to enter the dressing room. Emma nearly fell against the wall. “There is someone in here!” she called again, growing angry.
Probably just teenagers playing pranks, she imagined, catching her breath. Well, the bathing suit fit, so Emma decided to hurry up and let the pranksters tease someone else. When she bent down to pick up her blouse, someone slapped the door so hard that Emma yelped, leapt upright, and clutched her shirt to her chest. The slap came again and again and again. She could see under the door, but no one was standing outside.
Now Emma was frightened. She knew it wasn’t the salesgirl doing this to her. She