Their backyard was one of the reasons Marcus had bought the house three years earlier. It wasn't enormous by suburban standards, but the property sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, bordered by mature trees and carefully maintained hedges. A rectangular swimming pool occupied the center of the stone patio, surrounded by lounge chairs, potted palms, and a covered outdoor kitchen.
A black metal safety gate separated the pool area from the rest of the yard.
That gate was supposed to be locked.
Marcus slid the patio door open.
He stopped.
Patricia Whitmore was floating against the edge of his pool.
She was wearing a bright pink one-piece swimsuit, sunglasses, and a triumphant expression that made Marcus's stomach tighten.
Her towel was draped over one of his lounge chairs.
The lock on the pool gate hung crookedly from the latch.
Patricia lifted her sunglasses slightly when she saw him.
Then she smiled.
"Good morning, Marcus."
Marcus stared at the broken lock.