Deven shook her head. She couldn’t go. If she didn’t, she could still pretend, couldn’t she? Kennedy was on a beach in the Dominican Republic, probably on the balcony in her villa drinking a mimosa and watching the sun break over the ocean. The tropical weather would’ve bronzed her skin by now and knowing her, she’d be using that arresting smile of hers to woo whatever tourist, lifeguard, or bellhop to the cabana for some vacation sex after breakfast. A glimmer of hope had the image crystallizing even more and Deven could almost hear those waves again, could almost taste the salt in the air. It calmed her nerves for the briefest of moments, but it was enough. She reached for her shirt then, her movements labored and forced with resolve. She would go. If anything, just to prove to the police, Justin, and hopefully herself, how very wrong they were.

She felt deceived.

Deven watched the world blur past the passenger window, the sun warming the glass despite the 64-degree thermometer reading on Justin’s dashboard. But more than the temperature, Justin’s silver Tesla eased down I-295 with as much leisure as a morning ride for breakfast. No one, not even her, would suspect they were headed to the morgue to identify a body.

But here they were, Justin tailing the police car, the red and blue lights from the siren flickering colored filters across their faces like a prism. Justin’s arm was thrown across the console to rest on her thigh. Every now and then, he would give it a little squeeze. Deven didn’t know if the gesture was supposed to be comforting, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. It soothed her to sit in the discomfort rather than risk disturbing the stillness. Because right now, with the mound of confusion and unanswered questions suspended between them, Deven could imagine, if only for a few moments before, that she wasn’t teetering on the edges of sanity since the news.

Deven watched the buildings blur by outside the window. Funny how everything looked different now; how the tragedy had the world slightly skewed; like a myriad of incoherency through a tempered glass. The air didn’t feel the same nor smell the same. How could life go on so easily with one less person in it?