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His chest expands with a tired breath. “Nothing else to add. We should have the first preliminary autopsy reports in the morning.”

“Have you contacted the family?”

“Not yet. They’ll be contacted as soon as I have confirmation.” There are dark circles under his eyes. The blue and the green are almost the same color in the soft lights.

“That poor family.”

His hand on my calf rubs up and down. I don’t know whether he’s trying to soothe himself or me. “Not knowing is worse.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

And there it is. The conversation we never had. Jake’s sister.

The hand on my calf stops. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I reacted before.”

“It’s okay, Jake.”

“No, it’s not okay. I—I have a lot of anger about her disappearance. Anger that has been festering for years. And I took it out on you.”

I want to offer to help find her, but I don’t know how he’ll react. If he even wants my help with this.

“She was just fifteen. She was so excited about starting high school. I drove her to the mall to pick out new clothes.” His gaze is on the floor.

I bring his hand to my chest. Hold it there. “You were close.”

“Very. Even with the age difference. We were always together. Emily followed me everywhere.” He smiles now. “The first word she said was my name.”

“What happened?”

“She was meeting friends at the mall. It was raining hard that day. I dropped her off at one of the entrances and drove away to park the car. I went to the food court. I got lunch and waited for two hours for her to meet me there. She never came. I called her phone. It went straight to voicemail.” He closes his eyes. “I knew something was wrong then. She always answered my calls or texts.”

He lets go of my hand and stands. I sit up. I want to reach for him, but I sense he needs the distance.

“I went looking for her. Kept calling and looking. I ran into her friends and asked about her. They told me she never showed up and didn’t answer their phone calls either.”

He runs both hands through his hair. “I called nine-one-one. Contacted mall security. They weren’t worried. She was fifteen. They said that she was probably meeting a boy and lost track of the time. I knew they were wrong.”

He looks at me. There’s a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I called my parents. They came to the mall, too. Everyone was looking for her. I stayed there until the mall closed, and they forced me to leave. The police interrogated me like I was a criminal and did something to her. My father blamed me. My mother just cried. She couldn’t even look at me.”

I cover my mouth with both hands. I thought I had no tears left, but I was wrong. They stream freely down my face. “It’s not your fault, Jake. You have to know that. Whatever happened to her, it was not your doing.”

“No? I drove her to the mall. I left her alone. Someone took her. She had to be terrified. And I couldn’t save her.” The anger returns to his voice, and I know it’s not directed at me.

“Let me help you.”

He shakes his head. “What if . . . what if knowing is worse than not knowing?”

His answer rips a hole in my heart. It’s all so clear to me now. He’s afraid to know—and afraid of not knowing. He holds on to the anger because it’s easier to be angry than to live with guilt. I can’t believe his family turned on him. They lost one child and threw the other away. That’s the reason Jake’s a cop. That’s the reason he does what he does. Catching this guy is more than a job. It’s redemption.

I stand and wrap my arms around him. Hold him tight. He doesn’t hold me back. His arms at his side, his head tilted back. He tries to blink away the tears. I press my head to his chest. My ear over his heart. I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat. I breathe slowly and evenly and try to infuse both of us with a calm I’m far from feeling. But I do it anyway. Call for it. Ask the universe for help and healing. For Jake. For the missing women and their families.

His arms come around me, loose and tentative. His lips press to the top of my head, and he releases a breath. His arms tighten around me then. And we stay like this for long minutes. Not talking. Not thinking. But finding strength in each other. I make a silent promise to find his sister. One way or another. I’ll give Jake the gift of closure so he can be free of the self-inflicted shackles he wears.

He rubs my back and then my arms. Takes a step back. I tilt my face up and find his gaze. We meet halfway into a kiss so gentle it’s a whisper of lips, an exchange of breath, a promise of more to come.

He kisses my forehead and lingers there. Inhales. “Apples. You always smell like apples.” He takes a step back and then another. Breaks contact. Cold air rushes between us. I shiver.