“Something bad is happening. Julia went somewhere with Ned and then Mom ran out of here and told me to stay here and there’s tons of police sirens in the neighborhood.”

“OK. OK.” Kyle gets out of bed, wearing only his boxers, and pulls on exercise pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt with Lakehaven Track printed across the front—Julia runs cross-country. He picks up his phone and texts Iris: YOU OK?

No answer.

They look at each other, hearing another set of sirens approaching in the distance.

“You stay here,” Kyle says.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Kyle steps into sandals, the closest shoes at hand, although it’s cold outside, and searches for his car keys.

Grant watches him gather his stuff. He sees his father’s hands tremble, slightly, as he stuffs keys and wallet into his gray pants.

“Dad?”

“I’ll text you in a few minutes.” Kyle finds his car keys and hurries out. He drives his BMW toward the sounds of the sirens. He sees people, neighbors, walking along Winding Creek Trail, toward the sirens.

Toward the park.

Fresh sweat breaks out on his ribs, his palms. He feels sick.

He arrives. There are multiple police cars: Lakehaven and, just arriving, Travis County Sheriff’s Office. An ambulance. Lights flashing on all of them. A crowd starting to form. Near one of the cars he sees his wife and his daughter. Unhurt, but in the middle of it all. He swallows past the thickness in his throat.

The police officers are setting up a perimeter and they keep him back. He calls to Iris; she hurries over to him, holding Julia tightly.

“It’s Danielle Roberts,” Iris says. “She’s dead.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know how she died. Julia and Ned found her.” Iris’s gaze is steady on him.

The words nearly stagger him. Kyle tries not to show it, and so he folds his arms around his wife and his daughter. Kyle’s tall, and over their heads he sees Danielle’s body sprawled on a park bench. Officers are starting to process the scene. He stares at her. And then he sees it, below her feet, under the bench, near her shoe, because one of the deputies has started taking pictures and aims her camera right at…

A cell phone. Lying on the ground, under the bench.

Phones have records in them. Of calls made and calls received.

He tightens his hugs on his family.

What has he done? Panic roars in his chest, like a clawing, living beast.

This isn’t happening, he thinks.

“Dad, I can’t breathe,” Julia says into his shoulder.

He releases her instantly, instead putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“The police want Julia to give a statement. At the station, away from all this,” Iris says.

“All right,” he says.

“I’ll take her. You stay with Grant.”