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“Tristan—Tristan! Are you okay?”
I blink as Lavi’s blurred face comes into view. Her eyes are wild, her face blotchy and red with panic.
My face is hot and sticky. I’ve been bawling like a baby.
“Are you okay?” she repeats frantically.
“Meredith,” I murmur. “She’s—”
“Yeah, I can see that. Areyouokay?”
“Yes, yes.” I nod.
Lavi helps me sit up.
“We need to call the cops,” I say.
Lavi lifts the phone that is already clutched in her hand and presses the connect button.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I am sitting at the kitchen table, feeling like I am about to vomit.
It is all too familiar. The dark night outside the windows, the officers in the kitchen, the strangers in the house. The questions—thefucking questions. Everything reminds me of the night James went missing so long ago.
After calling 911 and getting a cup of water from the kitchen, Lavi ran upstairs to sit with Nina until the cops arrived. I don’t know why; it’s like she thinks Nina is suddenly going to wake up and waltz downstairs like everything is normal.
Now, Lavi is pacing a hole in the floor in front of the kitchen sink. Twenty years ago, Nina was sitting at the table, being interviewed, while I was pacing by the sink.
I feel like I am in some time-warped mind-fuck.
Both Lavi and I have given our statements to an officer called Smith, while the other responding officers disappeared to the room where Meredith’s body lies. And just like when James went missing, I was asked to stay in the kitchen.
I am just about to get up—screw them and their orders—when a sudden burst of noise echoes through the foyer.
I catch a glimpse of an empty black body bag being carried into the house seconds before a man steps into the kitchen. He is tall and tanned, with broad shoulders that stretch the fabric of his deputy sheriff’s uniform.
I recognize him instantly. My stomach drops to my feet as memories flash behind my eyes.
“Mr. Carrington,” the deputy says, his voice deep and gritty.
“You’re—”
“Ryan Perez.” He nods. “I worked your son’s case. I wondered if you’d recognize me.”
I blink, words catching on the sudden knot in my throat.
Perez, once a kid, now a full-grown man, gestures to his uniform. “I work for the county police now.”
“Yes, I can see that.” I stand, and we shake hands. “Good to see you again—wow, I can’t believe it.”
“I know. When I heard your name, I gotta admit, it brought up memories. So,” he says, glancing at Lavi. “What’s going on?”
I suck in a shuddering breath. “I—my ex-wife, Meredith, is ... well, she’s dead. I walked into the guest room, where she’s temporarily staying, and found her ...” I clutch a hand to my stomach as it rolls. “Found her dead with a bottle of pills in her hand.”
“What kind of pills?”
“Xanax.”
