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“Do you think I don’t know that?” The words whipped out. “That I feel nothing for that child, even through my own grief? Part of me wants to go to her, take her in my arms, and hold onto her. In that part of me, my arms ache to hold her. But the other part can barely say her name. Can’t bear the thought of seeing her, of touching her.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “Part of me can’t stop thinking it should have been her, and not my child. It should have been her we’re burying today and not my Linnie. I may hate that part of myself, Lieutenant, but it’s there.” She let out a shuddering breath. “It’s always going to be there. I’ll never be able to look at her without wondering why, without wishing. And my husband . . . I think it would drive him mad.”

“Nothing that happened that night is her fault.”

“Oh, I know it. I know it. But I wonder how long, if I did what Keelie and Grant asked, it would take for me to have her blaming herself. I have to go.” She pushed to her feet. “My husband needs me.”

“Jenny, if you could give me a few minutes with the lieutenant.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll get myself home. I want to be alone right now. I just want to be by myself.”

“I don’t know if she should be.” Dave made to rise as she hurried out.

“Hold on.” She took out her communicator, gave Dyson’s name, the description, her current location, and requested a plainclothes team follow her to make sure she arrived home safely.

“She’s a good person, Lieutenant. I know how this must seem to you, but it’s costing her to walk away from this.”

“It should. Don’t you Family Court suits stand for the rights of the child?”

“For the family—and for what’s in the best interests. After talking with Jenny, after seeing Matt, I can’t state that trying to hold them to their agreement is in Nixie’s best interests.”

“You could hold off a few days, see if they change their mind.”

“I have to file the papers, at her request. But I can slow things down a little. And I will. But I can tell you, they won’t change their minds. They’re leaving the city after the funeral. They’ve already made arrangements to move upstate, with her family. Matt’s been given a leave of absence, and she’s closed her practice. It’s . . .”

He lifted his hands, let them fall again as he sat back. “The lives they had are destroyed. They may build another—I hope they do. But it won’t ever be the same. Nixie’s part of what they lost. They can’t—won’t—have that reminder. I’ll do whatever I can for Nixie. I can probably swing temporary custody. I’ll speak with the blood relative she has left, see if that’s the right direction.”

“I’ll need you to keep me apprised of any movement or progress in the resolution of her guardianship.”

“I will. My God, I’m sorry. Sick and sorry for everyone. Look, can I get you something? I need some water. Gotta pop a blocker. I’ve got a headache coming on.”

Don’t we all, she thought. “No, I’m good. Go ahead.”

He rose, went to Vending for a bottle of water. When he returned, he popped a small pill, washed it down.

“Lieutenant, the Dysons are good people. It’s costing Jenny to walk away from Nixie, from the promise she gave to people she loved. She’s never going to forgive herself for it, but she just doesn’t have anything left. And Matt, he’s broken to pieces. I’m not having an easy time holding it together myself.”

“I need you to do just that. I need to ask you about some of Grant Swisher’s cases.”

“Anything I can tell you.” He drank more water, capped the bottle off. “If I can’t, Sade can. She’s got a brain like a motherboard.”

“Cases where Judge T. Moss presided.”

“Judge Moss? He was killed some years ago. Horrible tragedy. His boy, too. Car bomb. They never caught who did it.”

“I’m aware of that. Can you remember any cases, anything that stands out where Swisher was attorney of record, Moss on the bench, and a caseworker named Karin Duberry was involved?”

“Duberry.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he concentrated. “Something vaguely familiar, but I don’t know anybody by that name.