Marsh read six drowning files before the pattern hit him. Six dead people, all from Saltcreek. Six identical claims: water damage to a beach house none of them owned. Each one filed exactly three days before they drowned. He printed all six, lined them up on his desk, and stared until his coffee went cold.

Marsh decided to drive to Saltcreek himself. Every claim listed the same address: a beach house at the end of Pelican Road. If six dead people all lied about the same house, he wanted to stand in front of it.

A town deputy blocked the road and said the area was closed for erosion safety. But Marsh saw no erosion — just a fine-looking house and a very nervous cop who wouldn't meet his eyes.

Marsh waited until dark, then walked in past the dunes. He found the deputy on the porch of the 'closed' house, filling out a claim form. The name on it was the deputy's own. 'Mine came up,' the cop said quietly. 'You really shouldn't have seen that.'