“My point is, things could be worse,” Natalie said. She didn’t seem offended by his tone at all. I supposed she was used to dealing with people in crisis.

I decided to intercede here. “I think what James is wondering—what we’re both wondering—is when we can go back to normal life. Neither of us has left the house in days.”

Natalie nodded, and took a sip of her coffee. “I understand. The problem is that everyone expects the criminal justice system to work like it does on television: lots of detectives assigned to one case, prosecuting it rigorously. But the reality is, the wheels of justice spin slowly at the best of times. Resources are always stretched thin. And cold cases, like Hannah’s death, are never going to be a top priority. Not when there’s a teenager who went missing on Key Biscayne last week, or a shooting that happened outside a bar in Key West last night. My advice would be to return to your normal lives as soon as you can—or as soon as you feel comfortable. And, of course, don’t talk to anyone about the investigation.”

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. Life back to normal. It sounded blissful.

“You should call Casey this afternoon and let her know you’ll be in the office tomorrow,” I told James.

“What if none of my patients show up?”

“What if they do?”

We were still staring at one another when my phone dinged with a text.

“It’s the catering company,” I said. “They want to know if we made a decision on how many bartenders we’re going to hire.”

James looked at me blankly.

“For your birthday party,” I reminded him. “I’d originally said one, but the last time I spoke to them, they suggested that with the size of the party, we might want to have two.” I looked at Natalie. “We’re hosting a fiftieth birthday party for James in a few weeks.”

“You can’t seriously think we’re still going to have a party,” James said.

“What do you mean? Natalie just said we should get back to normal life.” I gestured at the attorney. “This is normal.”

“But throwing a party in the middle of all of this would be obscene!”

“I disagree,” Natalie said. “You’re going to need to face the world sometime. Hiding in your house, avoiding people—that makes you look guilty.”

“Also, the invitations have already gone out. It’s too late to cancel now.” I looked back at my phone, and started to tap out a response. “I’ll tell the caterers we’ll go with two bartenders.”

I ignored James’s frustrated huff as I typed. My phone dinged a moment later, and I assumed they were confirming receipt. But instead, the message was from someone I hadn’t expected to ever hear from again.