I sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her hand. It was still warm, and I laced my fingers with hers, squeezing hard, as though I could transfer my life to hers.

But I knew that I couldn’t.

I heard sirens in the distance and shouts downstairs, but they seemed further away.

I reached out and covered her eyes, gently pushing her lids down.

The tears fell off my face onto hers, and in the murky, rainy moonlight, it looked like it was Liz who was crying rather than me.

FIFTY-ONE

Commotion.

People were coming and going. Carter sat next to me on the sofa in Liz’s living room. I was vaguely aware of all this, yet completely removed from it. I wasn’t numb; I could feel a dull pain in my stomach that pulsed with each breath. It was more like I was trying to wake up and couldn’t clear my head.

Wellton was standing in front of me. “Did you hear me?”

I looked up. “What?”

His eyes were blazing in the dark room. “I asked when you last spoke to her.”

“Oh. I … um … this morning. I was here. Then I left.” “Where’d you go?” he asked.

I’d walked out of the house. Told her I’d do the right thing. That I wouldn’t let her down.

“Where did you go?” Wellton repeated, his voice seared with anger.

“I … home, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Easy,” Carter said.

Wellton pointed at Carter. “Shut the hell up. My partner is dead, and I want to know why.”

Carter stood and started yelling at him, but his words faded in the air.

I’d told her I wouldn’t let her down.

But I had.

Why had I even left her? Why hadn’t I seen it?

The ache in my stomach pulsed like a strobe. My arms and legs felt light, like they were attached but I couldn’t control them.

Two officers grabbed Carter and pulled him away from Wellton, and the words in the room exploded back into my head.

“Leave him alone!” Carter was yelling. “He found her! How do you think he feels?”

“She was my partner!” Wellton was screaming back, his hands now on Carter’s shirt.

“And she was more to him!” Carter yelled back, straining against the grasp of the two officers.

I knew they were talking about me, but I couldn’t engage.

I felt Liz’s hands on my face. We were standing in her doorway. Her eyes were right in front of me. I could smell her hair, her skin, feel her breath against my skin, her lips against mine.

Don’t worry about letting me down. Just do what you need to do.

I’d let her down.

I hadn’t done what I needed to do. And now she was gone.

FIFTY-TWO

I don’t know how long we stayed at Liz’s. I know that I tried to answer more of Wellton’s questions. I know that he and Carter continued to yell at each other. I know that Klimes and Zanella showed up at some point. And I know I saw her body come down on a stretcher beneath a white sheet.

That, for sure, I know.

At some point, Carter took me home. The rain was still pounding against the streets and his car as we drove. “We’ll find him,” Carter said.

I didn’t know who he meant, and I didn’t ask. My mouth was sealed shut, like someone had filled it with cement. My eyes stung. Something throbbed in my ears.

Carter was talking, but I was only hearing bits and pieces.

“… I don’t know where …”

A chill rattled my body. I looked across the bay as we neared Mission Beach and saw Liz standing in the water. “… and no one will …” I closed my eyes, trying to abate the stinging. “… don’t let it …”

I leaned my head against the glass, the cold window sticking against my cheek. The car was spinning.

I felt Carter’s hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Are you alright?”

My head fell forward in something resembling a nod.

I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them we were in the alley next to my place. I shoved the door open and slid out, my legs feeling awkward and stiff beneath me. I looked up, letting the rain pelt my face.

Carter appeared next to me and held out a hand to help steady me.

I waved him off and forced myself to walk toward the house. I got the door open. It was pitch black inside. I heard Carter come in behind me.

I didn’t stop until I found my bed. I collapsed into it, shut my eyes, and wished for nothing else than to never wake up.

FIFTY-THREE

Flashbulbs kept going off in my head, showing me snapshots I didn’t know I’d taken.

Liz and me in high school, talking in the hallway. She was a year older than me. She was telling me she wanted to interview me for the paper. I said okay.

Then she was yelling at me. We were in a parking lot. She was furious with me, and I was yelling back at her.

We were in her office. She was pointing a finger at me.

We were sitting on her deck, drinking beer. I could see her legs in the dark.

I was driving the Jeep. Liz was sitting next to me. We were on the 101, the sun setting to our left.

We were in her bed. She was on top of me, sweating, our eyes locked as we moved together.

Then we were in the ocean. I was yelling something across the water to her. My voice was coming out of my mouth, but I couldn’t make out what I was saying. She was coming toward me, the water splashing around her legs as she got closer.

I was still talking, but I couldn’t hear the words.

And then she was gone, and I was standing in the ocean by myself, still saying whatever I’d been saying, turning around in circles, looking for her.

FIFTY-FOUR

My eyes opened, and the daylight forced me to squeeze them shut again.

I opened them more carefully this time. Muted sunlight filtered into the room. The sheets on my bed were twisted around me like ribbons, and I struggled to pull myself out of them. I pushed up and sat on the edge of the mattress. My head ached, and it felt like an entire cotton field had grown inside my mouth. I stood and walked out to the living room.

Carter was on the sofa, watching the television with the sound turned down.

He turned around. “Hey.” He reached over, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.

I opened the fridge, found a bottle of water, and downed it in about four swallows.

“You alright?” he asked.

I threw the empty bottle in the sink. “Time is it?” My throat was tight and raw.

“About four o’clock.”

I looked out the window. The weak sunlight I’d seen in my room was about to disappear again behind clouds the color of steel. “You spend the night here?” I asked. He hesitated. “Both nights.” I looked at him. “Both?”

“You haven’t come out of your room for almost two days, man.” I nodded like I knew that. I grabbed another bottle of water out of the fridge and drank half of it. “Where’s Miranda?” “My place.”

The clouds swallowed the sun, and the rain started to fall. “Still raining?” I said.

“It’s barely stopped,” he said. “Wellton wants you—” “Don’t.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Not yet,” I said, watching the waves tumble outside.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. I watched the water, and he watched me.

“There’s one thing, Noah,” he finally said. “I think you should know.”

I emptied the bottle, tossed it into the sink with the other, and took a deep breath. “What?”

“Tomorrow. Ten AM,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “Her funeral.”

I grabbed another bottle of water from the fridge and went back to my room.

WEEK THREE

FIFTY-FIVE

Police funerals are like parades.

Everyone gets dressed up. There is marching, speeches, and music. The dead are treated like heroes, as they should be.

I assume they did the same for Liz, but I didn’t go to watch it.

Carter and I—several times I’d told him I was fine, that he could leave me alone, but he never bought it and he was probably correct not to—waited for the pomp and circumstance to end and then drove out to the cemetery on Coronado. He dropped me off at the gate and said he’d be back in an hour.