Had I forgotten to throw the lock? I’d never done it before, but since the car accident, I’d lost time, and locating my keys, purse, or cameras always took a little longer.

I fished in my purse for my cell phone and pushed open the door. The apartment was dark and still. Inside, the ice maker in the refrigerator hummed and the radiator hissed. Clutching my phone, I flipped on the light, but feathers of tension rippled up my neck, warning me to be wary even as my mind reasoned I’d simply made a mistake. I’d forgotten a twist of a key. That was the likely answer. And to call the cops over an open door felt like overkill.

I scanned my apartment. Everything was just as I’d left it. The dishes in the sink, the two coffee cups by my large-screen computer, Richards’s copied files on the floor by my desk.

I turned on a halogen lamp, which shot light onto the exposed pipes and ducts on the ceiling, and I moved toward my bedroom, still gripping my phone. Mouth dry, heart pumping, my brain said again I was overreacting. Jesus, Marisa, do you have to get so spun up? You’ve always been like this. Overreact should be your middle name.

Clare had been my balance when we were kids. Whenever I was frustrated and wanted to break something or cut off a doll’s hair, Clare talked me out of it. When Dad gave us the Jeep, I pressed the speed limit past one hundred miles an hour until Clare’s screams finally reached me. And when I drove down I-295 drunk, Clare was there to swap IDs.

After Clare’s death, I’d been even more out of control. I was an engine with no governor. And then two years ago, I’d overdosed. That had been my wake-up call.

Even now I could remember sitting in that dark alley behind J.J.’s Pub. My eyes had drifted closed, and I’d slid to the ground against the hard, wet brick. My heartbeat had slowed, my breathing was shallower than a teacup, and my hands and feet chilled. In that moment, I knew I’d screwed up. Everyone had said I had a death wish after Clare died, but I hadn’t. I’d simply wanted to numb the pain, which was so intense it took my breath away. All I wanted was to feel normal, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I’d expected that as Death grew closer, I’d see Clare or my mother. But I hadn’t. No bright light. No angels. It had been utter darkness. More loneliness, if that was possible.