A cardboard box with no lid sits on a filing cart next to Valentin’s desk. Scrawled across the side are my sister’s name and a word I recognize from clicking through articles on Le Monde’s website: Preuves. Evidence. The blue sleeve of Angela’s favorite college sweatshirt drapes over the edge, and the sight of it ignites a round of goose bumps on my skin. She wore that everywhere junior year.

“Would you like a tissue? Miss Darby?”

A tear splashes the pocket of my shorts. “Shayna. What happened, exactly? I know you explained everything over the phone, but I want to hear it again to make sure I understand.”

The desk phone rings, interrupting my agony. The mundane, everyday sound feels like an affront—the world continuing to go about its business. Valentin silences the noise, but a red, insistent light continues to flash. “Of course. I understand it is confusing. Information has come in slowly and bit by bit.”

He clasps his hands together. “Here is what we know: Angela was on the Sorbonne campus June 29. She entered the library at 1:05 p.m., according to surveillance cameras. A shooter entered the campus at 2:13 p.m., opening fire on the international relations hall, the foreign language hall, and the library. Conflicting witness statements insist Angela ran into the courtyard with the other students—out of view of security cameras. Others suggest Angela was taken from the library, kidnapped.”

“By whom? The shooter killed himself, right?”

He nods. “Yes. We do not believe the shooter was involved. Ten days later, a body was recovered from the Seine, with a bullet wound to the head; we have not yet confirmed this was the cause of death. As the body was submerged in water for almost that length of time, the only identifying factor that police could use without proper medical records was the tattoo dressing her ankle, based on Sebastien Bronn’s declaration. Rumors have leaked to the media that an American has been missing since the shooting, and we are trying to contain this information before releasing a statement. Identifying your sister’s remains will not take long,” he adds. “Until when do you plan to stay?”

I stare at him until my eyes burn and I’m forced to blink. “I’m leaving Tuesday. Angela didn’t have any tattoos when I last saw her. How am I supposed to ID her?”

Valentin purses his lips. “Many times, family members recognize things they don’t remember until they are faced with their loved one. Perhaps that will be the case for you tomorrow.”

“Wait. Can’t we go now? I thought I was coming to see you, then we would go straight to the morgue.” I crack my pinkie knuckle, a burst of anxiety resurfacing the bad habit.