Breathing Under Water

Prologue

Berry

Leo is missing.

I’ve checked the house from top to bottom, the basement area where he keeps the aircraft models, the closet where he goes

when he’s afraid, the roof outside his brother’s window, which he knows is off-limits. I’ve been screaming his name at top

volume, probably waking the whole neighborhood. I know better, don’t I? My boy can’t tolerate loud noises, and here I am,

wailing like a banshee.

I run back to his bedroom again. The bed is made. Not a single item looks out of place.

After hurrying back to my own room, I grab my phone from the vanity table where I left it when I first realized Leo wasn’t

out of his room yet even though it was almost nine a.m. I thought he might be sick, or that he was still nursing his broken

heart. Or, well, I thought it could be a lot of things. It didn’t for a second cross my mind that he might be gone.

I dial Phil, holding the phone to my ear as I barrel down the stairs to check the backyard. Thank heavens we decided against putting in a pool when we bought the house all those years ago.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I call out as the phone continues ringing.

Even before I finish opening the glass slider, I can see the backyard is empty. The manicured grass is as neat and unbothered

as if the landscapers only just left. From out on the deck, I have a clear view over the evergreens that border the yard,

and I scan our neighbors’ properties on both sides. The Fausts’ goldendoodle is pacing circles in the grass, probably stalking

an animal, and the O’Donnells’ yard is as empty as ours. Directly behind our house is a small bit of preserved land, densely

wooded forest, one of the reasons Phil and I loved this property to begin with. Leo hates these woods and would never explore

them. He’s always preferred a bird’s-eye view, where he can see what’s coming first.

When Phil doesn’t answer, I hang up and dial the police.