“Dean?” Thank God. “Dean I know you’re in there. I’m coming in, okay?”

The front door opens and my girlfriend comes in, looking as gorgeous as she always does even though it’s almost ten at night. I don’t know how she knew the cops were here. I don’t care how she knew. I’m just glad I’m not facing this alone anymore.

“Good evening, officers.” She sounds so innocent but also shocked as she stands in her cream sweater and skinny jeans. So surprised to find cops in my living room. She looks like the kind of person who’s had a perfect life. Who’s never seen anything horrific happen in front of her and been forced to watch. “I’m Dean’s girlfriend.” She comes over to me and gives my hand a quick squeeze. “I saw the car outside. Is everything okay?”

“We had some questions for Mr. Quinell and his whereabouts two nights ago.”

My girlfriend answers quickly. “Oh! He was with me. We had dinner around eight, and then we went to bed around ten. He doesn’t stay up late when he has work the next morning.”

“Did he have work the next morning?”

“Yes, like most days.” Her smile fades. “It was a normal morning. I got ready and went to work and so did Dean.”

“You went to work at the repair shop next door?” Mr. Quinell the first cop asks, his voice starting to soften.

“Yeah. That’s where I work.” I answer as respectfully as I can.

“Will they corroborate your statement if we stop by in the morning?”

I nod, but she speaks up.

“Of course they will,” my girlfriend says. “Rick will tell you Dean was the there. He doesn’t miss work, you know. He’s a reliable person. Rick will tell you that, too. Dean is a good man.” Her voice tightens as she tells them such a lie.

The cops glance between her and I. “We’ll do that, then,” the second cop says finally. “A call in the morning should be fine.”

“I don’t really have much else to say,” I tell them.

“If there’s anything else you need, you’ll let us know, right?” My girlfriend follows the cops to the door and holds it open for them.

They answer her. I don’t catch what they say.

“Okay,” she calls into the night. “Stay safe.”

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Quinell.”

“You’re welcome.” I’m reluctant to answer and I honestly don’t know what they’re thinking.

The door clicks shut, and I hear her flip the lock. Then she comes back into the living room, crosses to me, and puts her hands on my face, pulling me in for a soft kiss. My hands go to her waist, and I hold her tight. Maybe too tight. I need to feel her, and I can’t let go.