“I looked at you instead of her. You want me to feel guilty about that, to try to work some blame up because it was you, not her? This isn’t about you and me, Naomi. It’s about the son of a bitch who did this to her.”

It was the tone as much as the words that snapped her back. The raw impatience with anger bubbling beneath.

“You’re right. Maybe that’s why I needed to call you. I wouldn’t get endless there-there’s and poor Naomis from you. That sort of thing just makes it all worse. And it’s not about me.”

“Finding her’s about you. Having to see that’s about you. You don’t want any poor Naomis, I’ll keep them to myself, but goddamn, I wish you’d gone anywhere else to take pictures this morning.”

“So do I.”

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