As she talks, though, my heart is pounding because Detective Ward is right: Where did those fourteen minutes go? All the things Vera says are possibilities, but I was there, and I can account for maybe seven of those minutes.

He arrives, we exchange a few words, I leave, and then as soon as I start the car, I hear the gunshots. Maybe Vera’s right, that I didn’t call 9-1-1 right away, that maybe I was in too much shock to pull myself away from his body long enough to call 9-1-1.

Still, it bothers me. Something about it feels off but I can’t quite explain why.

I run through the night one more time in my mind, try to snap the fragments of my memories together into a coherent whole. Elise and me fighting, then separating. Jack showing up at the door, telling me he’d talk to Elise. I’m in my car, the keys in the ignition, about to leave.

Nothing’s making any sense. I try to follow what Vera’s saying, but no matter how I divide the time, there’s always a few minutes left over. I didn’t miss his text, and I opened the door as soon as Jack arrived. We talked for a bit but it wasn’t that long. Then I went to my car, ready to go home and let Elise and Jack work it out themselves, so we could put the fight behind us.

That’s where they found my keys, still in the ignition. Everything is still hazy but I remember running up those steps.

Maybe Jack didn’t find Elise right away. Maybe he waited for her to come back inside from the balcony, and when she did, he startled her.

And maybe, when I went to my car, I dozed off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the sound of gunshots. It can all be explained. That’s what matters in the end.

Fourteen minutes isn’t a lot of time, I tell myself over and over. It doesn’t mean anything.

I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince, Ward or myself.

31.

We break for lunch. My parents have gone out and bought me a turkey sandwich but I can’t think about eating. Instead, I hide out in the bathroom for as long as I can.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up. I’m so tired that I’m teetering a little. I’m running on empty, but I can still feel the spikes of nausea-inducing adrenaline. My stomach twists, and all I can do is focus on not throwing up. My body thinks I’m about to die. It thinks I’m in the fight of my life, and maybe it’s right.

Every second I’m locked in that room with Detective Ward feels like life or death.

I hold myself up with both arms against the counter. I look in the mirror and a stranger stares back out at me, but I can’t quite look away.

This is life or death, I think, but it’s not only our lives on the line. It’s our friendship that’s endangered.