We look back at the boy. His skin’s already beginning to lose its pink flush, a result of the blood draining away from his veins. His muscles have relaxed, and even the tension is gone from his eyelids. This is why some people think the dead look like they’re sleeping; but up close, it’s what’s not there that gives it away: the absence of breath, reflex, all the tiny movements that disappear when our hearts stop beating.

“Get back,” the female officer barks at a boy leaning over the crime tape with his phone.

“We should do something about these students,” Teddy says. We’ve angled our shoulders to block the body from view. Behind us, the crowd sways and heaves. Someone is swearing.

I sigh. “Let’s separate the gawkers from the witnesses. When I arrived, there were ten or so at the crosswalk.” We both glance over our shoulders. The crowd has swollen to fifty. Cars are no longer turning around, but people have parked, left doors open, and run down the hills on either side to see what happened.

“I was first on the scene,” I hiss as I stand and brush off my jeans. There’s a smear of blood on the cuff of my blouse.

He smiles, but his brown eyes are wary. “I told Oliver I was meeting you for coffee and a snack, which—”

I dig through my bag and hand him a granola bar.

“Right.” He takes a bite. “We’ll figure something out.”

I roll my eyes. Teddy is a wonderful, annoyingly kind and patient person, who people always are surprised to learn is a homicide detective. And Teddy hates lying, so whenever he does, he has to caveat it with some kernel of truth. But he’s also insatiable. If his stomach grumbles, if he looks over with a pained grin and says he’s hungry, you better feed that man before his jawline tightens and his eyes turn red. I’m serious, “hangry” is an understatement—it’s more like hang-furious, hang up the phone and buy that man a bag of pretzels. I’ve learned to pack snacks—in the car, in my bag. I’ve even found smushed Snickers bars at the bottom of the washing machine because I’ve stuck them in my pockets and forgotten about them. Once you feed him, all is right in the world and he goes back to normal like a reverse gremlin.