A voicemail from her husband tells Sara he's arrived at the holiday cabin. Then a call from his friend confirms he never did. As the hours stretch out, anger turns to fear. And when the police finally take an interest, they want to know why Sara deleted that voicemail. Now she's alone in their unfinished dream house, with its kitchen island, wooden pallets on the bathroom floor and the light-suffused office where she receives her patients. Except that she's not. Not quite. She can't shake the feeling that she's being watched. That, whatever happened to her husband, she could be next.