Grant stared at her. “I told you your job was too dangerous. I thought you would be killed, and it tore me up, but I learned to live with the risk. But it was our son. Our baby boy. Chase is dead because of you.”

“That’s not true.” She didn’t know if she spoke or not.

“I can’t even look at you. I can’t—just go to your family. Leave me alone.”

“Grant, you don’t mean it.” She knew he did. She wanted to be strong; she wanted to fight, to scream, but she had nothing left inside.

“My boy. Gone.”

Grant was in pain, just like she was.

“He was my boy, too, Grant. I—I’m sorry.”

She was sorry. It wasn’t her fault, no matter what Grant said...was it? Had she missed something? Nothing made sense about the last week. Nothing made sense about Chase’s murder.

Grant stared at her, his face radiating the pain she felt inside. “I wish it had been you.”

Her shredded heart bled more. She had nothing to say as Grant twisted the final knife.

“So do I,” she said and meant it. In that moment, she wished the bullets that had ripped into her son’s body had torn her apart instead.

She stood in the entry, feeling helpless and grieving more than she could bear.

“Get out,” Grant said. “I can’t look at you.”

She turned and walked out. Their marriage was over.

Regan showered, then sat down at her dad’s computer. It was now after six thirty, and she texted her dad, concerned about his whereabouts. She shouldn’t be. Even though he was retired, he was a big boy with a lot of friends and things to do.

He responded almost immediately.

Home by seven. La Fonda tonight?

She sent him a thumbs-up emoji: it was her favorite Mexican food restaurant, and she could use a margarita. Or three. She’d make her dad drive so she could down a few drinks.

She sent an email to Beth that the divorce papers were signed and out in tomorrow’s mail. She checked her emails, ignoring most.

Her old boss, Tommy Granger, had emailed her twice, on Monday and again this morning. She’d been avoiding his messages. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone from her previous life.

Especially Tommy.

He was angry with her because she let her sabbatical lapse without applying for an extension. The sabbatical was part of her benefits: she received three paid months off for every five years of service. She’d never taken her first sabbatical, and they could be rolled over once. She didn’t argue with him when he put her in for a six-month sabbatical, even though she’d told him she wasn’t coming back.

He kept pushing, and while she respected her boss, she wished he would drop it.

His email this morning was clear.