Sara Jane clutched at Trent. Fear, real and full, made her eyes wide and colored her pale cheeks. Trent didn’t seem to notice her grip, his face seriously blank as he looked at Quen. Knees weak, I watched Trent take a slow breath as if steadying himself.

“Mr. Kalamack?” the young officer said, gesturing for Trent to accompany him.

A flicker of emotion flickered over Trent as the FIB officer said his name. I would have said it was fear if I thought anything could shake the man. “Ms. Morgan,” Trent said in parting to me as he helped Sara Jane into motion. Edden and Quen went with them, the captain’s round face slack with relief. He must have put his reputation further on the line than I had thought.

Sara Jane pulled from Trent and turned to me. “You bitch,” she said, fear and hatred in her high, childlike voice. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Shocked, I said nothing as Trent took her elbow with what I thought might be a warning strength. My hands started shaking and my stomach clenched.

Glenn was on the stairway. There was a disposable wipe in his hands and he was running it over his fingers as he made his way to me. He pointed to the crime scene van and then the black rectangle the door made. Two men lurched into motion. With a calm tension, they wheeled a black hard-walled suitcase forward.

I was going to get Trent Kalamack arrested, I thought. Can I survive that?

“It’s a body,” Glenn said as he came to a squinting halt before me, wiping his hands with yet another wipe. “You were right.” He saw my face, and I knew I must have looked anxious as he followed my gaze to Trent standing with Quen and Edden. “He’s just a man.”

Trent was confident and unruffled, the picture of cooperation, a sharp contrast to Sara Jane’s anger and hysterics. “Is he?” I breathed.

“It’s going to be a while before you can go in,” he said, taking a third towel and swabbing the back of his neck. He looked a little gray. “Maybe tomorrow, even. You want a ride home?”

“I’ll stay.” My stomach felt light. It occurred to me that I should probably call Ivy and let her know what was going on. If she’d talk to me. “Is it bad?” I asked. By the door, the two men chatted to a third as they unpacked a vacuum from the battered suitcase and put paper sleeves on over their shoes.

Glenn didn’t answer, his eyes going everywhere but to me and that black doorway. “If you’re staying, you’ll need this,” he said as he handed me an FIB badge with the word TEMPORARY on it. People were stringing yellow crime scene tape, and it looked like they were settling in. The radio was thick with short, terse requests, and everyone but the dogs and I seemed happy. I had to get upstairs. I had to see what Trent had done to Dr. Anders.