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Reaching into her oven, Carrie removed the baked mac and cheese she’d made for her family’s dinner.

She smiled at Emily, bibbed in her high chair and singing, which she did when she was hungry.

“Almost ready, sweetie. It needs to cool,” she said, fixing a steaming bowl for Emily and putting it in the fridge.

Carrie glanced at her phone on the counter and, for the umpteenth time, considered the text from Denise Diaz at the Chronicle . She hadn’t responded, but this request was different. Not just an interview. Denise had the case file, and it shed light on the murders.

Maybe talking to her would help me.

“I’m going to do it.” Carrie turned to Luke, who was sitting at the table, scrolling on his phone, saying nothing.

Present, but not with her.

Frowning, she reflected on texting with Dr. Bernay yesterday about whether she should meet with Denise. It could result in Carrie learning painful investigative details. But otherwise, she might never find all the answers, Dr. Bernay had said.

Carrie glanced at Luke, still staring at his phone. She scooped a heap of mac and cheese for him, banging the serving spoon on his plate.

He snapped to attention.

The baby started to whimper.

“Where did you go, Luke?”

He put his phone down. “I’m sorry.”

“I said I’ve decided to talk to Denise Diaz at the Chronicle . What do you think?”

He considered her question.

“With all you’ve been through already, is it a good idea to talk about it with a reporter?”

“I texted Dr. Bernay about it.” Carrie caressed the baby’s cheek, soothing her.

“What did she say?”

“She said I’ve made progress, that it could still be challenging, but it’s up to me. I think it could help me get answers.” Carrie got Emily’s bowl from the fridge, spooned a sample, tested it. It was cooler. She started feeding her. “You’ve been so distant lately.”

“I’m sorry. I’m dealing with some things. But, Carrie, it breaks my heart to see all you’re going through.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “What things?”

Working on his dinner, staring down at his plate, he didn’t answer.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Luke?”

He searched her eyes without answering.

She read his face before asking: “Do you think we made a mistake moving back?”

He looked away.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Luke was silent.

“Is it your new job?”

“No, I’m just tired. It wasn’t a mistake. We had to come back, for your dad, for you, Emily, the job. We had to do it.”

“Is it the shooting? Because, Luke, this feels like right after the shooting. You’re not talking to me again.”

“No, it’s not about LA.”

She turned to him when she heard his fork clink as he set it down. Then he looked at her as if he was about to tell her something important.

Something hugely important.

Luke rubbed his hands into his face, pressing his knuckles deep. “I guess we’re both battling ghosts,” he said.

Carrie took a long breath as they let a moment pass, and then Luke shifted the subject.

“Do you want me to go with you when you talk to the reporter?”

Carrie shook her head.

“Are you going to tell your dad?”

“No. I need to do it myself. But I’ll get him to look after Emily. He’ll like that.”

They left it there, finishing their dinner with small talk and watching Emily.

Slowly, they each retreated into the silence of their own troubling thoughts.