Chapter One
“Rightthisway,Ms.Berry.”The attendant’s voice was soft—yet still jarring enough to slice her panic open all over again.
Cassie followed, her legs obeying before her mind could protest, her footsteps echoing against the tile as she moved down a corridor that sloped toward the hospital’s back wing.The air cooled with every step, but it didn’t ease—if anything, it only grew heavier, crowding her chest.
Through a steel door, industrial antiseptic scorched her nostrils, but beneath it lingered something faintly metallic.Across the way, a wall of drawers faced her, stark and uniform, each one fitted with a single metal handle.
The attendant’s hand closed around a handle somewhere in the middle, the metal sliding free with a sharp, hollow sound.Cassie’s knees nearly gave out; bile surged, clawing up her throat.
She hadn’t eaten in days.Hadn’t slept.Not since the voicemail—
We’ve recovered a body we believe to be your brother, Connor Berry…
Eight hours from Paris to New York.Four in limbo.Two more to Wheeling.A rented sedan racing through the mountains.
“Do you need a moment?”the attendant asked gently.“Maybe some air?”
She shook her head, tightening her blazer around her as if it could shield her from this fucking nightmare.“Just—show me.”
The sheet peeled away.Clumps of black hair, oily and matted.Dark lashes against pale, sunken cheeks.Bruised lips parted slightly.
It wasn’t him.
It couldn’t be him.
But every crooked line of his nose, every scar along his collarbone—from that dirt bike crash as a teen—was proof enough.His hands, stiff at his sides, still bore the calloused knuckles she knew by heart.
“That’s…my—” Her voice splintered.“That’s my brother.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”The attendant bowed his head.“Would you like some time alone with him?”
Alone?Her body begged to bolt from this hell—yet her feet might as well have been nailed to the floor, her brother’s face a magnet she couldn’t break away from.
“How—how did he die?”Her voice fractured on the words.
The attendant hesitated.“Toxicology’s still being finalized, but…” He exhaled quietly.“There were opioids in his system.Fentanyl among them.”
Cassie stared at him.“Fentanyl?”
“Yes, ma’am.”Another pause.“And…there are indications this wasn’t recent.”
“Indications?”
His gaze flicked briefly toward Connor’s body.“Track marks.Arms…and elsewhere.”
Each word smashed into her like a fist.Opioids.Fentanyl.Track marks.
She pushed on.“How long…how long was he using?”
“There’s no exact way to tell, but…it could’ve been ongoing.”
Cassie’s mind jumped—last calls, missed texts, half-remembered conversations she’d brushed off because she’d been too busy, too far, too sure he was fine.
“Who found him?Where was he?When did he…” The questions tumbled out, sharp and uneven, but the attendant didn’t flinch.
“The police found him near the old rail line.It’s a hangout—known for, uh, transient activity.”
Her control began to crack.Tears burned, blurring white walls and steel drawers into a gray smear.The old rail line?Her brother had died like a stranger in his own damn town?
