“I hate what I believe he did,” I said.

“I don’t know where to put the rest.” She nodded.

“Me neither.” Then she began crying, not loudly but with the stunned grief of someone losing a relationship while still recovering from physical harm.

We had no room for the easy consolation people offered.

Rachel could survive and still be furious.

Joanne could love Kyle and still insist on accountability.

Lucas could miss his uncle and remain far away from the investigation.