Maybe Emily could reach her and break the news. Then at least she’d be somewhat prepared when the police showed up on her doorstep. If Frank had been found dead, Emily would have been grateful for that small buffer, a window of privacy in which to absorb the shock.

Emily pulled over to the curb, slipped her phone from her pocket, and called. Quinn picked up after a single ring. “Hello? Emily?” She sounded breathless.

Emily swallowed hard. How to begin?

“What is it?” Quinn said. “Have you heard something?”

“It’s Wally,” Emily managed. She didn’t know where to go from there, so she just plunged in. “He’s dead.”

A gasp from Quinn, as if the news had knocked the air out of her. “He can’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sure?”

“I wanted you to hear about it before the police get there.”

“Dead,” Quinn whispered.

When she didn’t say anything else, Emily said, “Quinn?” No response. “I’m so sorry.” More silence. “Are you there? Are you okay?” Emily asked, even though she knew Quinn couldn’t possibly be.

“I can’t believe it.” Quinn’s voice was raspy. “It’s just . . . How do you know?”

Before she spoke, Emily realized how strange this was going to sound. “He was in a storage unit I was working on.”

“I don’t understand,” Quinn said.

“Honestly, neither do I. We were clearing out a storage unit for another client and . . . Listen, is there someone you can call to be with you? Do you want me to come over?”

“No! God, no. I need to think. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emily knew she was repeating herself, but what else was there to say?

“Just remember,” Quinn said. “Whatever happens? I’ve got your back. We’re in this together.”

In what together? When Emily disconnected the call, she felt as if she were in free fall. She tried to grasp what Quinn was suggesting. She started the car. Immediately the windshield fogged. She cranked the air conditioner and waited for the glass to clear. Ran the wipers a few times. Then she started driving home.

Halfway there, she remembered she’d agreed to go to the police station to give a statement. She made a U-turn and drove there instead. Outside the police station, she checked to see if she’d missed Frank returning her call. She hadn’t. She texted her mother, Home in an hour, so she wouldn’t worry.

The officer at the desk at the police station was much younger than the one who’d been there when she’d come in with Quinn. He asked her to sign in, then whisked her past the front counter. He led her around back and delivered her to a familiar uniformed officer waiting in the corridor. Sergeant Stanley.