A polite smile touched the corners of Maria’s lips. She smoothed out a few nonexistent wrinkles from her slacks and took a seat. “Nice to meet you both. I apologize it’s under these circumstances.”

At her beckoning, Deven lowered herself to the nearest chair, directly across the table. She dragged a nervous hand through her short pixie cut and slid her eyes to the officers, who merely stood quietly in the corner by the door.

“At this time, I’m going to show you a picture,” Maria started, bringing the attention back to her. Even in the stark room, her voice was warm, which Deven could appreciate. “This picture will be of a woman, shoulders up. There is no blood, no wounds, nothing graphic whatsoever. However, the woman pictured is not alive. Do you understand?”

Deven’s tongue felt like lead. She swallowed. “A picture?” she asked. Every criminal law show she’d seen danced in her head. She assumed she would be escorted to some kind of sterile, metal room with a covered gurney that would be dramatically unveiled to reveal a dead body. Looking at a picture instead wasn’t what she had in mind, though she should’ve been relieved at the practicality. Actually, seeing a dead body in person, especially her sister’s, would’ve been an image permanently seared on her brain and sure as hell worth increasing her therapy sessions.

“Yes, it’s just going to be a picture,” Maria said with a reassuring nod. Either she’d sensed Deven’s surprise, or she’d had to dispel the cinematic myth one too many times. Things are never like they show in the movies. “Are you ready?”

Those damn tremors were back, and Deven tensed, struggling to keep herself positioned on the chair. She flung a desperate hand to Justin’s and squeezed for dear life. Oh, dear God, was this really happening? Suddenly, everything stung all at once, her head, her throat, her body. She could only manage a brief nod and hold her breath as Maria produced a single clipboard which had evidently been resting on the chair next to her. Clipped to the board was the photo, face down.

Deven couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard the police officers quietly step from the room and it suddenly felt smaller, more suffocating; like the air had been sucked out to dry. Instinct had her brain kicking into protect-mode and Deven shut her eyes, hearing the scrape of wood against wood as she heard Maria slide the clipboard across the table.

“The picture is in front of you now, but it’s face down,” Maria assured in that comforting voice of hers. “Please take your time. There is absolutely no rush. When you’re ready, turn the picture over.”