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 woman was waiting on the porch when Marsh pulled up, like she'd known he was coming. 'You're the insurance man,' she said. 'You're number seven. They always send someone.'

Marsh asked what 'number seven' meant. Six investigators had come before him, the woman said, each one drowned within three days of arriving. 'The claim isn't theirs,' she said. 'It's filed for them, by whoever wants them gone.' The victims had been investigators, just like Marsh.

Marsh decided to drive out of town before three days could pass. But every road out curved straight back to Pelican Road. By dusk he stopped fighting it and understood: nobody who came to Saltcreek for these files ever left.