I asked whether a person could truly be mistaken for dead.

She said the records would be crucial; she would not guess about the decisions of clinicians she hadn’t seen.

It was an answer I respected, even though I hated every minute of uncertainty.

By noon, Detective Chen returned carrying a sealed evidence envelope.

Inside was a photograph of my engraved crystal wedding glass.

“We found one,” she said.

My chest tightened.

“Where?”