Another person enters the room, and I can make out Sheriff Gleason gesturing them to leave. I think he’s telling them everything’s fine. But it’s not. I don’t feel right. I want to go back to feeling nothing. I want to be numb.

I want this to all go away.

I finally make out a few words from Sheriff Gleason. “Breathe, just breathe.”

I try, but my breath is caught in my lungs. It comes out in fits and starts.

You’re hyperventilating! my mind screams at me. Start breathing. It wants me to fight what’s happening to my body. I want to give up.

But I can’t. Dad needs me.

I focus on a picture on Sheriff Gleason’s desk. It’s from the last Gleason family reunion. I see Neil, who stands out with his bright red hair and pale skin. I focus on his smiling face as I try to breathe.

In and out …

In and out …

I will my mind to conjure a happier time—hell, even a miserable one—to focus on anything but the present. Every moment that surfaces features my dad. The one constant source of joy in my life.

No, I have other people, other things. Concentrate on them.

A memory flashes in my head from this past summer. Marian, Neil, and I took a ride over to Green Bay to tour the UW campus. We went for frozen custard afterward. I was craving turtle custard. They were out. Before I had a chance to pick another flavor, Neil smiled at the cashier. “You have hot fudge, right?” She nodded. “And caramel? And I assume you have pecans since the flavor of the day is butter pecan?” The woman confirmed that they did, indeed, have all those items. Neil continued, “Okay, you have all the elements to make this amazing friend of mine a turtle sundae. So tell me, Judy, what do I need to do to persuade you to put a smile on her face?”

At the time, I was horrified of his making a fuss. But as soon as I took a bite of the sundae with the cool vanilla custard, the combination of hot fudge and caramel, the saltiness of the pecans, I gave Neil that smile he wanted.

There are good things in this world, like turtle sundaes and friends.

My breath steadies.

“See,” Sheriff Gleason says. “It’s going to be okay.”

I realize that a small smile has spread on my face, but it quickly vanishes. “No, it won’t. Nothing is going to be okay ever again.”

I truly believe that. I can’t, I won’t, ever get past this.

“Sheriff Gleason.” I look him in the eye. “I need to see my dad.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t make that happen tonight. He’s still talking to the FBI. Maybe tomorrow?”

I nod. I’m too exhausted to fight anymore.