I punched in the security code on the front door and stepped into the lobby. I crossed to the stairwell and climbed. As I huffed and puffed, I vowed to quit the elevator and maybe start running again. Soon. Today, I could at least take the stairs.

As I pushed into my apartment, my phone rang. It was Jo-Jo.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.

“No. Just got back from the shoot.”

“That’s kind of late. I thought this was a quick morning job.”

“I bought a car.”

“Did you? That’s terrific.” A refrigerator door opened and closed, and I imagined Jo-Jo rooting for something sweet to eat. She never could resist a cookie or piece of cake. “What did you get?”

“Black SUV.”

“Ugh. Why didn’t you replace your yellow Jeep? That was such a fun car. God, how long did you have it?”

“Fifteen years.” I’d never buy a Jeep again. I’d shared the one and only with Clare, and when she was gone, I drove it, nursed it, and brought it back from the dead several times. To buy another without her felt like treason. “This one feels more practical.”

“Growing up sucks.”

I walked to the fridge, pulled out a cold canned seltzer, and pressed it to my temple. “It can.”

“After the car, what did you do? The wedding was seven hours ago.”

“I drove down to the James River. And then up to your old house.”

“Oh, Marisa, not that again.”

“What do you mean, not again?”

Silence settled. “The week before your accident, you went down to the river a lot. It was feeling like an obsession.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me when we had lunch.”

I hesitated, trying to remember seeing Jo-Jo the week before the accident. I couldn’t find a memory of it. “I’ve taken lots of pictures down there.”

“It was never about the pictures.” She sighed. “Look, I don’t want to rehash that week. It was awful enough.”

“No, please serve it up. I still don’t remember the week or seeing you and I want to.” I walked to the collection of black-and-white photos on my wall.

“We had lunch the Wednesday before. You were asking a lot of questions about Clare.”

“Why?”

“You know you go through times when you’re desperate to remember every detail.”

That was true. There were days and weeks when the particulars of my sister’s murder were all I could think about. In the first few years, I drank to shut off the endless questions. Hell, I’d done that for the better part of thirteen years.

I popped the can’s top. “What kind of questions was I asking about Clare?”