Vickers nodded. “We need to collect each item of clothing separately.”

“What? Why?”

“Honey,” Vickers said in a soothing voice, “you’re covered in blood.”

Ellie stared down at her clothes, as if seeing them for the first time. She was covered in blood—not hers, but Danny’s. It was smeared across the dark fabric of her pants and shirtsleeves. There were splashes on her chest.

“Strip down to your bra and panties,” Vickers said gently. “The doctor will collect those.”

Of course. I’m covered in blood, Ellie thought. She had performed CPR on Danny. Danny was dead—she had failed to find a pulse—but she had still kept blowing her breath down into his lungs, kept using her hands on his chest to get his dead heart to start beating.

“Don’t worry,” Vickers said. “I have someone bringing a fresh set of clothes from your locker.”

Ellie’s gaze drifted to the landline phone sitting on the counter.

“You can’t talk to anyone yet,” Vickers said. “But he knows. I spoke with Cody and assured him you were—”

“Samantha.”

Vickers, frowning, took out her pocket notebook and removed the pen threaded inside the spiral. “Is she a family member? Friend?”

“Danny’s mother. Her name is Samantha. Have you spoken to her yet?”

“I’m sure someone—”

“She won’t answer her phone unless Danny is calling. You can’t leave her a message saying what happened. You can’t do that to her.”

Vickers nodded in understanding, smiled patiently. “I can assure you that won’t happen. Why don’t—”

“Today’s Friday, right? Yes. Yes, it’s Friday.” Ellie felt clammy all over. Her mind raced and her heart banged so hard against her rib cage, she thought it might shoot out of her chest like a bullet. “Danny’s mother will be at her sister’s today—she spends every Friday with her, Danny told me. I don’t know the phone number or the address, though.”

“Ellie,” Vickers began.

“If Danny had told me, I would have written down her number or put it in my phone. I should have asked. I should have been more prepared.”

Vickers stepped up next to her. Ellie felt the woman’s hand on her back.

“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” Vickers said.

Ellie kept her attention on the HPV poster but wasn’t really looking at it but through it, thinking of Danny zipped up inside a rubber bag and stuffed inside a refrigerated drawer while his mother was getting ready for her afternoon out with her sister, followed by the early-bird special at the Continental, the woman having no idea that her youngest child was dead.

“You’re going to go through a variety of emotions and mood swings,” Vickers said gently. “You may also experience survivor’s guilt. The important thing is to allow yourself to experience these feelings, to talk about them, because in these situations, victims—”

Vickers stopped talking when Ellie stepped away, straightening. She blinked back the tears and said, “Yes, you’re right—I need to deal with this.” She began unbuttoning her shirt, her hands trembling. “I understand,” she said. “I understand now.”