“Here.” Vera hands me a small cup of coffee.

I take a sip and let the hot bitterness hit my tongue. Jack loved coffee, drank it black by the gallon, called it his only vice. Fancy coffee shops, McDonald’s, Starbucks, gas stations, it didn’t matter as long as it was dark and hot.

“Remy?” Vera yanks me back. “Remember, keep it simple. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour, two tops. Just tell them what happened and stick to simple yes and no answers when they ask questions.” Her voice sounds so far away, an echo of an echo of an echo. “Remy?”

“Hmm?” I say.

“Let’s go over it one more time.” We’ve been through this. Last night, and again an hour ago this morning.

My mind strays, unable to focus. I wonder where Elise is. I wonder where they took Jack’s body, if his aunt and uncle have seen him, if his mother’s landed yet. Oh God, I think, covering my eyes and pressing them closed. And Evan, Jack’s cousin. Lola, his dog. More tears burn their way out of me, salt to the wound.

Doubt cuts through me and I close my eyes, trying to call the memories back. They dance before me, disjointed and unfocused once again. I am so tired and the coffee has only made me more jittery. I think about the night and the memory has a strange finish to it. Surreal, like I’m seeing myself from afar, like I’m watching a movie.

Me, sitting alone on the staircase, smothered in the silence of that big pink house. Jack coming through the door, saying, Maybe it’s better if I talk to her alone. Elise saying, Everything ’s going to be okay. Her voice distant, fuzzy. I squeeze my eyes shut. She says something else, but I can’t make it out, her voice warbled and distorted.

And then finally, the gunshots, still ringing in my ear.

“You said you were at the Pink Mansion and it was just you and Elise,” Vera supplies helpfully.

I nod and swallow.

“And you were arguing over something,” she continues. “What was it?”

“I don’t remember. It was something stupid.” It’s what I said last night, but I still watch for her reaction, see if she believes me. If I tell the police that they were arguing about the pranks, they’ll find out all about them. I’m not trying to lie, but the truth is complicated and this is easier.

“Okay, then what happened?” Vera asks.

“Then I called Jack, and he came over. He said he’d talk to Elise alone. I went to my car and just as I was about to leave, I heard the gunshots.” Now I’m the one who sounds far away, like the words are coming through the car speakers and I’m trapped here and forced to listen to them.

“Then?” she asks softly.

“Then I ran into the house and—” I choke on a dry sob. “I saw Jack and he was—” Another sob shakes my whole body and I can’t keep it under control. “I called 9-1-1.”