"Just checking in," he said. "You two okay?"
"We're okay," Garrett said, not moving from my side. His hand found mine, fingers interlacing, like he couldn't bear to not be touching me.
"Good. That's good." Brian hesitated, something shifting in his expression. "Detective Diaz is here. She wants to talk to you both, if you're up for it."
I looked at Garrett. He looked at me.
We both knew this was coming.
"Send her in," I said.
Brian nodded and disappeared. A moment later, the curtain rustled again and Detective Diaz stepped through.
She looked exhausted. The kind of bone-deep tired that came from too many long nights and not enough wins. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair escaping from its usual neat style.
Another fire. Another crime scene. Another case that had spiraled beyond what anyone expected.
But there was something else in her face. Something heavier. Something that told me the news she was carrying wasn't entirely good.
"I'm glad you're both okay," she said. "When I heard about the fire, when I heard you were inside..." She shook her head, the professional mask slipping for just a moment. ""This is going to cause some disruption at the Times. The insurance company is going to have a meltdown."
"I'm sure Marianne will handle it." My editor had faced down senators and CEOs. An insurance company wouldn't stand a chance.
"I'm sure she will." Diaz paused. The heaviness in her expression shifted forward, becoming harder to ignore. "I have news. About Rebecca Marsh."
The room went quiet. Even the distant sounds of the ER seemed to fade.
"Lieutenant Stone got her out." Diaz's voice was careful. Measured. "She was brought here. Crush injury, the compression from the beam. When they freed her, the damage was already done internally. Toxins in the bloodstream, cardiac arrest. Dr. Park worked on her for almost an hour."
She met my eyes.
"They couldn't get her back. I'm sorry. She didn't make it."
I'd known. Somewhere deep down, from the moment I'd seen Brian carrying her out of the stairwell.
But hearing it confirmed was different.
Garrett's hand tightened on mine.
He'd tried to save her. And it still hadn't been enough.
"She was ready," I said quietly. "At the end. I think she was ready to be with Emma."
Diaz nodded slowly. "I'll need formal statements from both of you when you're feeling up to it. But there's no rush. Take the time you need to recover."
"Thank you."
She nodded to Garrett, then to me, and slipped back through the curtain.
The silence she left behind was full of things neither of us knew how to say.
Crush injury. The compression from the beam. When they freed her?—
When we freed her.
I stared at the curtain Diaz had disappeared through. My hands were still in Sloane's. The same hands that had lifted the beam. The same hands that had held Rebecca upright while Brian carried her down twelve flights.
The same hands that had.
