When he was leading the investigation into Charlotte’s disappearance, Gabriel always maintained a positive demeanor with me. No matter how dire the circumstances, he somehow made me believe that a happy ending was still possible. I knew that was part of his training, but it nevertheless buoyed me when things were at their darkest. And then, when everything finally went black and Charlotte’s body was discovered, Gabriel’s presence assured me that I’d again see the light.

When he approaches me this morning, however, he’s wearing the same horrified look that I’ve been carrying around since he told me the day’s sad news. I can’t imagine he’s truly grieving—after all, Lauren was merely a work colleague to him, and not a particularly close one at that. Rather, he’s worried about how devastated I am. He knows all too well the struggle it has been for me over these last six months, the slow and steady ascent out of the abyss. I’m certain he fears precisely what I do—that Lauren’s death will push me back into that bottomless hole.

I fall into his arms, and he embraces me tightly. I revel in the warmth.

Until the noxious odor pushes me back, that is.

“You smell like—”

“Puke, I know.”

“What happened?”

“Richard Trofino threw up, and I got hit with some splatter, I guess.”

A minute later, we’re behind the closed door of Gabriel’s office. The privacy could allow me to break down further, but for some reason it causes me to collect myself. I’m conscious of my own breathing, a deliberate attempt to control my runaway emotions.

Gabriel has never lost anyone close to him. He’s a thirty-eight-year-old man who still has all four of his grandparents. I’ve never met his parents, but in photographs they look to be the picture of health. Of course he understands plenty about loss from witnessing it on a daily basis. He’s a wonderful consoler—in fact, I don’t know how I would have survived Charlotte’s death without his support—but no one who hasn’t experienced grief firsthand can fully comprehend its power to overwhelm. It’s the difference between watching the destruction of a hurricane on television and taking the full brunt of the storm.

“Can I get you anything?” Gabriel asks, ever the host.

“You know what I want.”

He smiles to confirm that we can, in fact, read each other’s minds. At least on issues like this one.