ELENA

I lasted maybe an hour in that bed before I gave up on lying still and went to find my husband.

I couldn’t hold it alone. That was the truth of it. I lay there with my father’s name burning behind my eyes and the photographs of Dominic’s death stacked up in the dark of my head, and every minute I stayed in that room the fear got bigger, until staying still felt more dangerous than moving. I couldn’t tell him what I’d seen. But I could make him tell me something, and I needed ...