“All of them?” Matt said. She’d told him twice already, but he didn’t believe it.

“I’m so sorry.”

Mom.

Dad.

Maggie.

Tommy.

He stood again, said something, then tripped to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and emptied his guts into the toilet. He hugged the dirty bowl, unsure how long he was there.

At some point he heard a soft tap on the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he managed. Gripping the sink, he tugged himself up. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face, then glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he felt.

Back in the room, the female agent was alone, her partner having cleared out.

“How could something like this happen?” Matt asked, the sound of his voice strange to him, hoarse and distant.

“They think it’s a freak accident, a gas leak. But that’s what we’re trying to get to the bottom of. Both the Bureau and State Department are working on it. We’ve reached out to the Mexican authorities. I know this is the worst possible time, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

Matt sat down again, nodded for her to continue.

“We understand they were on vacation.”

“Uh-huh, spring break for my little sister and brother.” The words caught in his throat. “They decided to go at the last minute. My break didn’t match up, so I couldn’t…” He stopped, fighting back tears.

“When’s the last time you heard from them?”

Matt thought about this. “My mom sent a text from the airport the day they left. Maggie sent one a few days ago.” He felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t read, much less responded to, his little sister’s text.

“How about your father?”

He shook his head, every part of him numb. They hadn’t spoken since their fight over Christmas break. His heart sank. The last thing Matt had said to him—

“For the timeline—to help us understand things—it’s important that we see those texts. If you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, sure. But my phone, it’s in my coat, which I left somewhere last night.”

“Do you know where?” the agent asked. She was sympathetic, but Matt could tell she was getting impatient.

“I think it’s at the bar.” He’d grabbed the tiny mountain of his clothes before slinking out of the girl’s dorm, so it had to be the bar.

The agent nodded. “I can take you there.”

“I don’t think they’ll be open this early.”

“What’s it called?”

“Purple Haze, on East Thirteenth.”

The agent pulled out her phone and walked to the far end of the room. She looked out the rain-speckled window, murmuring commands to someone. “I don’t care. Just tell them to get somebody there now,” she said, making her way back over to Matt.