Laurel has issues. She knows it. Her therapist knows it. The Buddhist monk in the back left corner of her mind knows it. She’s finally agreed to try regression therapy, but it couldn’t be coming at a worst time. Her family is already gathering in the same shore town where she almost drowned fourteen years before. The occasion is her cousin’s wedding. The venue, a large, reputedly haunted Victorian her aunt unconcernedly bought and converted to a bed-and-breakfast.

Reluctantly arriving on the scene, Laurel finds a team of ghost hunters already at work in the house but none of them sees the curious specter trying to dislodge itself from the small piece of statuary her young nephew found in the surf.

Not understanding whether the trouble is with the house or in her head, she finds herself drawn into the orbit of an off-beat group of locals, their oddball beachcombers’ guild, a spectral vampire with a warning, an unexpected assassin, and rumors about a dire prophecy that seem to somehow all connect back to an infamous local beachcomber called Fisher, who may or may not have gone missing.

It’s a labyrinth that will lead her all the way back to the question of who she is and what happened in the deep, dark waters fourteen years before.