Bella stroked the phone screen, zooming in on the satellite view of the reservoir.
To me, the lake had always looked like a giant’s hand giving the thumbs up. Once I’d seen it on a map, it was hard to shake.
“Do you see it?” she asked. Her finger hovered over the smeary place on the screen.
I saw the lake. I saw the voluptuous curve of road that traced its shore. “What am I supposed to see? You mean the car driving north?”
“Not that car,” she said. “I mean that car. In the lake. Her car.”
I grabbed the phone from her and squinted.
There it was, in the lake—whatever it was. A rectangle, fifty yards from shore, several shades lighter than the moss-green water.
“Well?” she asked, taking her phone back.
I shrugged and cleared my throat. “I suppose it could be.”