* * *
Two hours later,Dax sits next to me in a small office at the South Boston police department. With my hands clasped in my lap, I stare straight ahead, keeping my emotions locked away where they can’t hurt me.
I wanted to come alone. But Dax…for all of his faults, he cares about everyone in the office like we’re his family. And I guess…we are. But after he put up Zion’s bail—and lost ten grand when Z never showed for his trial—we’ve been…distant.
“Miss Kane? I’m Detective Raskins.” The rumpled, skinny man sits across from us and opens a Manilla folder. I fixate on a shock of his straw-colored hair sticking straight up on the side of his head. Anything to avoid the inevitable. “YouareWren Kane, aren’t you?”
At my side, Dax clears his throat and covers my hand with his. “Wren.”
The contact shatters the little bubble with only me and the detective’s cowlick, and I nod. “Yes. You…f-found my brother?”
Raskins slides a photograph towards me, face down, but doesn’t take his hand away. “The cold weather this spring...probably the only reason we got an ID at all. Dental records gave us a partial match, and between that, his driver’s license, and this…”
When he flips the photo, a dull roar fills my ears. Someone’s squeezing my heart. Hard enough that I wonder if it’s about to burst. The purple, green, and gray fluorite beads aren’t anything unique, but in the middle of the bracelet, a shiny silver sphere bears the inscription I special ordered when Zion got his one-month chip from NA.
Courage
“That’s…his,” I manage. I run my fingers over the picture, feeling the undulations in the crystals, seeing Zion fiddle with them as we sat in a Nar-Anon meeting together for the first time. “How…long ago did he…die? And…how?”
“A month, give or take. Kind of hard to tell after a few weeks. But the basement of the cannery never got much above sixty degrees. He was found behind a stack of old pallets…which was probably why the body wasn’t picked clean.” Raskins takes another picture out of the folder.
“Cause of death was ruled an overdose. We pulled all the usual paraphernalia out of his pockets, found the needle underneath him.”
I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing. Choking back a sob, I shake my head and shove the picture back at the detective. “No. Not Zion. He wasclean. He went to meetings every day. He had a job. He was making amends. Hepromisedme.”
The detective watches me with jaded eyes, then tucks the photo back into the folder. “His stash was gone, but some other junkie probably took that off him pretty quick.”
“Zion…someone did this to him. Did something to him. Look again. Lookharder!”I know I sound hysterical, though my eyes are dry. There’s no way he started using again. I don’t care about the needle, matches, spoon, and rubber tube in the picture. I don’t care he was in a known drug den. “My brother never broke a promise to me. Never.”
“Wren.”
Dax’s overly patient tone grates on my last nerve. “Don’t. You donotget to say ‘I told you so.’ Because you’re wrong. You’re both wrong.” Grasping my necklace to try to stop myself from landing in a full-blown panic attack, I tug on it so hard the chain snaps. A single tear burns my eye, and I shove it down, clutching the pendant in my palm until the edges bruise my skin.
“There’s no evidence of foul play, Ms. Kane. And one of your brother’s drug buddies told us he used to hang out at the cannery when he wanted to get high. Addicts…when they relapse…it’s easy to OD.”
Standing up so quickly the metal chair almost topples over, I shake my head. “Not Z.” I have to get out of here. I can’t…breathe. “I’ll…be…outside,” I wheeze, and with my bag clutched to my chest, I race for the door.
* * *
Daxand I don’t speak on our way back to the office. He managed to convince Detective Raskins to turn over my brother’s bracelet, and I’m twirling it around my wrist like it’s the only thing keeping me sane. My heart still feels like it’s about to come out of my chest, but the worst of the panic is fading now that my meds are taking effect.
As we climb the steps up from the T station, his hand around my elbow, I stare up at the bright blue sky. Rain and clouds have dominated the weather for weeks, and today…when I left my apartment, the day held such promise. Now…
“Do you have anyone to stay with you?” Dax stops once we enter the lobby of the six story office building Second Sight calls home.
“I want to be alone.” I slip out of his grasp, but three steps from the door, I turn. “I’m sorry, Dax. I’ll…pay you back. Every penny.”
“Wren, you don’t…”
I’m out the door before he can finish his sentence. I don’t want sympathy. I want my brother back.
* * *
Candles burnall around the living room, though from my position on the kitchen floor I can’t see any of the flames. Just the gently flickering light painting my walls with shadows.
I don’t know what possessed me to try to eat something—going through the motions, I guess—but the pizza has gone cold on the counter, and I can’t get up off the floor. Pixel, my little Bichon Poodle mix, crawls into my lap and starts licking my chin.
I curl my arms around her solid body, twenty-five pounds of love with a white fur coat, tiny black nose, and brown eyes. For a long time, she doesn’t move—just snuggles closer. When my anxiety started interfering with my day-to-day life three years ago, Zion gave her to me.
