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There was a knock at the door later.

I was annoyed Reid had lost his keys.

Only he didn’t.

There had been an accident.

His car.

Fire.

A body they told me I should not see.

His wallet.

His identification.

His wedding ring.

They told me the body was Reid’s.

I held his ring in my hand and accepted the rest.

There was a funeral.

A closed casket.

Ten years.

“Emma?”

Bennett again.

“You there?”

Same night.

“I’m here.”

“What exactly are you updating?” he asks.

I’ve cracked the door too far. “Records.”

“What kind of records?”

“Mine.”

Another pause.

“Is there a problem with the painting?”

I look at my bandaged hand.

Wrong car.

Wrong glass.

“I didn’t say that.”