“[Angel] studied them and asked, ‘But some of these dates are from the last decade? Last year?’ Another nod. ‘But slavery’s over.’

I shrugged. ‘People still own people.’

She read the names. ‘All these people found freedom here?’

‘I wouldn’t say found it here as much as they stopped by on their way to it.’”

This interaction between Angel and Murph in his church introduces the stakes of the novel: Trafficking as a form of modern-day enslavement. Angel seems unaware that she herself is currently being trafficked, although Murph’s suspicions are immediately raised, foreshadowing his later quest to rescue her. Additionally, Murph’s wall of names introduces the theme of Valuing the Individual in the Fight Against Evil, as he records each person he has saved—or failed to save—so that he can always remember them.

“I lean in to try to kiss her. Millimeters from her touch, I can feel her breath on my face. But it’s a dream where one millimeter equals a million miles. No kiss.”

The nightmares that Murph has convey his inner turmoil over the loss of Marie, invoking The Lasting Impact of Trauma. Although the full story will not be revealed until later in the novel, his dreams introduce the internal conflict he faces, as their wedding day still haunts him years later.

“The intersection of the St. Johns River with the IC. The Atlantic Ocean was two miles to my left. On a calm day I could exit the jetties, turn south, and arrive in Miami tomorrow. Tonight even. The end of the world the day after that. Two days and I’d be done with all this. But that’s not what Fingers would have wanted. He liked the inside, and he always took the slow way home.”

Descriptions of the novel’s setting such as this permeate the novel, emphasizing the importance of the location of Florida both to Murph in his personal life and for his work. Additionally, the moment he departs for his trip to scatter Fingers’s ashes reemphasizes the impact that Fingers had on his life, as he resists his own desire to “be done with all this” in favor of honoring Fingers.

“Even in the blue LEDs, covered in mud and blood, she was beautiful. Her hair was matted across her face and her fingers were cut. Several were bleeding, which meant the impact had sent her to the shoaling. Her face, too, was cut above one eye, with the wound trailing down her cheek.”

The first description of Summer conveys Murph’s feelings for her, with him noting how “beautiful” she is despite her disheveled state—a common descriptor for the women and girls in the novel, which is sometimes problematic in persistently reducing women to their physical appearance even in moments of distress and trauma. This moment foreshadows their romance and experience of The Healing Power of Love. The detailed description of her physical wounds also reflects her internal wounds, which Murph will discover as he comes to know her.

“Gathering her strength, she sat up and pushed the sheet off her. Naked. She spoke in broken resignation. ‘I can’t fight my way out of this room. If you’re going to do something to me…’ She lay back. ‘Just get it over with.’ Sometimes people’s pain is deeper than we can first see. I was sorry I hadn’t seen it sooner.”

The first interaction between Murph and Summer emphasizes the theme of the lasting impact of trauma. She has been through so much in her life that her first assumption is that Murph is going to abuse her. Murph’s response—showing no reaction to her naked body, recognizing her pain, and leaving her alone in the hotel room—characterizes him as someone who is kind and understanding.

“What blows my mind is the fact that whoever that writer is, he or she has written something that is so good it took my mind off the drugs. Think about it. Better than drugs? And I’m not the only one. Therapists in rehab give these books to their patients.”

Summer’s words here about Murph’s writing convey their importance to her as she recovers from her past trauma. Her discussion of the novels introduces a prevalent idea in the novel about the importance of writing and reading as a form of escape. It will later be revealed that Murph has written the books that Summer praises. However, it is also important to note that Summer’s claim that reading Murph’s books over and over again “took [her] mind off the drugs” severely oversimplifies the reality of treatment for addiction and may reinforce problematic assumptions about recovery from addiction being a matter of pure “will” or “mind over matter” instead of a serious, involuntary health condition that usually requires sustained professional support to overcome.

“[Summer] took one step, then—conscious or not—twirled. Like mother, like daughter. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever witnessed, and it took me back twenty-five years to a beach, a breeze, and the smell of a girl.”

One important motif in the novel is dancing, as it is a central part of Summer’s old life and her past, as well as a component of Angel’s character. Summer and Murph dance together twice in the novel, conveying their love for each other. Here, Murph is reminded of Marie while watching Summer dance, conveying his romantic attraction to her that continues to grow.

“Thousands of knife-edged keels and spinning razor blades have cut this water right here. Sliced it into ten billion drops that somehow come back together again. No scar. Nothing can separate it. You could drop a bomb right here and within a few minutes, it’d look like nothing ever happened.”

One important component of the novel’s setting is the ocean. Here, Murph describes what he likes about the ocean: Despite all the damage it takes, it always repairs itself and remains whole. This is a metaphorical representation of trauma, as Murph respects the ocean’s ability to heal, just as he tries to heal himself and those around him from their experiences.

“It was one of the more beautiful things I’d seen in a long time. An older, dying lifer full of regret and sorrow and a broken-hearted, middle-aged woman full of sorrow and regret. The two together made a happy sound out across the deck. The laughter was the proof.”

In addition to romantic love, the characters’ friendships also convey the healing power of love. Two people from completely different backgrounds—Clay and Summer—find friendship through their journey, dancing together and forgetting about their traumas.

“Hidden in the safety of the eye of the hurricane, Summer wrapped both hands around my waist, pressed her chest to mine, and kissed my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth. Her lips were tender. While my heart fluttered, fear flooded me. I’d been down this road. I’d seen what we were about to see. Angel could be dead. Or worse.”

Murph often uses the metaphor of a “hurricane” to describe their situation, believing that the peaceful moments before they confront the human traffickers are the calm “eye” of the storm. Here, Summer kisses him for the first time, hinting toward her growing feelings for him. However, Murph recognizes the lasting impact of trauma, hesitating to return her affection since he is still wary after Marie’s betrayal and apparent death.

“I also knew I was dealing with a captain who would think things through in the same way I had, and he was probably as savvy as me. Maybe more so. He might venture out into the open water just because he thought I thought he wouldn’t. We’d ventured into mind games here, and I knew it. He probably knew it too. I was a batter trying to guess the next pitch.”

When Murph describes the men whom he is hunting, he recognizes their knowledge and their experience. In this way, the stakes are heightened, building suspense and danger around the men responsible for trafficking women and girls.

“A tortured creature who—despite her crusty exterior and like the rest of the human race—had and was continually asking two questions: Who am I? And more importantly, whose am I? In my life, in my strange line of work, I’d discovered that we as people can’t answer the first until someone else answers the second. It’s a function of design. Belonging comes before identity. Ownership births purpose. Someone speaks whose we are, and out of that we become who we are.”

These words from Murph are important in understanding Ellie’s character. Throughout much of the novel, she is angry and dismissive of Murph, insisting that she wants his help yet keeping herself distant from him. Instead of responding with anger, Murph responds with understanding, acknowledging that she is grappling with an important human question: Who am I? These words emphasize the theme of the healing power of love, as he believes that helping her find a sense of love and belonging will heal her anger and resentment.

“[Casey] looked up at me. ‘Is my life over?’ This right here was what the men spit out. The residue. When they were finished, this is what was left over. My anger roared. Countless times I’d knelt by similar bedsides and been asked similar questions.”

This moment with Casey in the hospital reflects some of the problematic aspects of the novel’s portrayal of female trafficking survivors. In describing Casey as “what the men spit out” and “residue,” Murph frames his attitude as one of concern and “anger” for the trauma she has endured, but the novel’s language dehumanizes Casey.

“Right now there is a man walking this earth who can’t wait to meet you. He’s been waiting his whole life. […] When he meets you, his heart will flutter. His palms will sweat. He’ll think somebody stuffed a bag of cotton in his mouth. He won’t know what to say, but he’ll want to.”

This passage reflects another problematic aspect of the novel’s depiction of female trafficking survivors. Casey’s first thought upon recovering from a near-death experience and repeated sexual violence is to worry that she will not be “worthy” of a man’s love. Instead of emphasizing her innate worth as a human being, Murph—and the novel—reinforces the idea that a woman or girl’s value is inherently tied to her desirability in the eyes of a man or boy, with Murph insisting that there is already some man “who can’t wait to meet [Casey]” and stressing how the man will feel when he sees Casey. Survivors of abuse are always worthy and deserving of respect and healing, regardless of whether or not they later choose to pursue a relationship or whether others find them attractive.

“While Bones plays the happy-go-lucky grandpa everyone loves to love, he walks those mountains morning and night, and there isn’t a footprint or broken twig that gets past him. These are his sheep.”

While Murph is representative of the “shepherd” throughout much of the novel, the motif is also applied to Bones here. Like Murph, Bones helps rescue women and then guides them toward recovery. The metaphor—of Bones as a shepherd and the survivors as sheep—conveys the protective, nurturing nature of Bones in Freetown.

“[Sister June] turned toward the ocean, remembering. ‘I do remember she said the strangest thing. Apollumi.’ She shrugged. ‘Not every day somebody walks in here quoting Greek.’”

Murph also has a tattoo that reads “Apollumi,” hinting at his connection with the mysterious young woman Sister June remembers. This is the first indication of who Ellie’s parents are, foreshadowing the revelation that they are Marie and Murph.

“[Ellie] dismissed me with a hand. ‘Oh, as if you’re an expert because one woman crapped on you. You’re not better than me. You’re just a bitter old man trying to understand why some hoozie didn’t love you. Earth to whatever-your-name-is.’ She was screaming now. ‘Sometimes people don’t love you back!’”

This moment emphasizes the internal rage and anger that Ellie has over what she has been through in her life, conveying the theme of the lasting impact of trauma. While Ellie is dismissive of Murph’s own traumatic experiences, her defensiveness and anger reveal how much she is hurting and in need of support.

“[Bone] sat back, shrugged, sipped, and said, ‘You can choose that if you want, or you can realize that we are all just broken, and sometimes no matter how hard we try and no matter what we do, people just don’t love us back […] And when they don’t, we have a choice. We can hold on to that, let it fester and live out of that puss-filled bitterness, or…’ He tapped the pad of paper. ‘We can learn to love again.’”

Bones’s advice to Murph after Marie abandoned him conveys the theme of the healing power of love. While Marie’s love was a vital part of Murph’s life, Bones explained the importance of giving love to others even when it is not easy to do so. In this way, Murph not only benefits from the love he finds in Summer but also uses his own love and compassion to help others.

“As I stood in that water, it all flooded back. I would miss him. I would miss the sound of his voice in my mind. But that’s all it was. It was just make-believe medication, and I couldn’t cope anymore. My drug, writing, had lost its efficacy. The pain in me was deeper than the writing could root out.”

The titular “water” plays an important role in the novel, as it cleanses and washes Murph clean of his past. When he spreads the ashes from the urn, he is moving on from his life of writing and, by extension, his life with Marie. After he exits the water, he is prepared to love Summer, invoking the healing power of love.

“I held the ladder with one hand and slid the other beneath Gunner, giving him a break. His eyes were trained on the yacht. The name on the back read Pluto.”

Boat names, an important motif in the novel, often lend insight or deeper meaning to the events of the novel. Here, Murph notes that the yacht that kidnapped the girls is called Pluto. In Roman mythology, Pluto is the god of the underworld. In the text, the yacht transports these girls into a figurative hell.

“There I found eleven scared girls in a tight group breathing the last of a trapped air bubble. With a little prompting and a quick comment about the Titanic, we formed a daisy chain, and I led them through the dark water and up the stairs.”

This scene, where Murph rescues the girls from the yacht, mirrors the scene from the Prologue where Bishop rescues other girls. These words are the exact words from page 3, used to describe both Murph and Bishop’s actions. This repetition highlights the importance of writing the novels to Murph, as they reflect his real life, thereby allowing him to cope with what he experiences and heal.

“Loggerhead Key is a forty-nine-acre key three miles dues west of Dry Tortugas National Park. Its most noticeable feature is a 157-foot-tall lighthouse, which can be seen for twenty nautical miles. I glanced over my shoulder. The lantern rotated like a giant eye scanning the surface of the ocean.”

The final showdown in the novel, between Murph and the man who kidnapped Angel, takes place on Loggerhead Key. The prominent symbol of the Key is the giant lighthouse, which Murph sees as a “giant eye.” This simile creates a mood of fear and danger as the ominous eye watches Murph’s approach.

“Love does that. It erases the pain. The darkness. The stuff that wants to hold our head under the water. Love reminds us who we are and who we were always meant to be. And there never has been nor ever will be anything that can kill it.”

The final moments of the text convey the healing power of love, as Murph emphasizes its importance as he sends Clay, Summer, Angel, and Ellie to Colorado to begin to heal. Additionally, it adds a new layer to the theme, as Murph emphasizes its enduring power. Despite everything that they have been through, he reiterates the fact that love can never be “killed.”