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Sterling was struggling to stay present in one place.
    She climbed in behind the wheel and leaned back against the seat. Emotions stirred inside her heart and she closed her eyes to focus her breath. But her strength ebbed and Sterling couldn’t muster the will to hold back the memories that always sat just outside of view, demanding attention she refused to give. In the quiet and growing darkness, Sterling gave up the struggle and was back there again, the day she said goodbye to her dad.
    She’d stood in a slight drizzle crying around her and the crisp air. The cold dampness and the bleakness of it all seemed appropriate to her at twelve years old. Cold and bleak. That’s how she felt. She stood under the tent with her mother and sister, staring at her father’s casket, and struggled with her impulse to scream out in protest.
This is all wrong.
Her father coached her softball team, ran in marathons, and loved to dance. He couldn’t be cold and silent.
    Her mother’s sobs pierced the memories raging inside Sterling’s head, and again she faced the stark reality —
Dad is gone
.
    Sterling thought of the night the shift sergeant and county coroner sat in her living room explaining how her dad, Joshua Aegar, had gotten shot during a drug bust.
    “Your husband was taken by surprise, Mrs. Aegar. He was conducting a routine procedure. Unfortunately, someone must have been tipped off and was waiting for him. He was wearing a protective vest, but the shot went to his head. There was nothing we could do. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
    That explained how her dad died, but it didn’t settle the question looming large in her mind —
why?
There was no just and fair reason to explain why her father’s life had been taken.
    When she’d first gotten hired at the department, she’d attempted to find an answer and tried to open her dad’s cold case investigation. Sterling’s stomach clenched, remembering the first leads she’d gotten, stuff that didn’t look good for the department because it pointed to an inside leak. She’d shared what she’d found with the chain of command, but mysteriously the fruits of her work had disappeared. No evidence, no case.
    Tears streamed down Sterling’s cheeks as the memories cycled through her. She felt exhaustion take over and she grabbed for the anger that always saved her from the depths — unless she lost control, she thought, and angrily brushed away her tears. She turned the key in the ignition and directed her attention to getting home. A good run and a hot shower would do her wonders.
    • • •
    After an evening of playing games with Tyler and reading bedtime stories, Lacey stood at the kitchen sink, dreading the long hours of the night ahead.
    It seemed no matter how she filled her evenings — sitcom drivel, miles on the treadmill, hot chamomile tea — she always ended up staring into the darkness. Sleep would not grant her release from the terrible aloneness that lay like pale, cold frost on her heart.
    Lacey finished washing the dishes, switched off the kitchen light, and headed back to Tyler’s bedroom.
    A gentle glow shining from a nightlight warmed the darkness and lit her son’s sleeping face as Lacey placed a kiss on his cheek and snugged up the blankets. Even at six, her son was the spitting image of his father.
    Nearly two years had passed and still Tyler’s grief over his father’s death conjured up all too frequent nightmares calling for Lacey’s soothing in the night.
    It’s not fair he should suffer so. It’s not fair that my son’s foundation, his father and idol, should be taken away as though it means nothing.
    But right now she was grateful Tyler looked peaceful, and she tiptoed out, quietly closing the bedroom door and padding into her room.
    The clock on the mantle in the living room struck twelve midnight, echoing hollowly down the hall. If only sleep would come easy for once, she thought, as she climbed into the left side of the bed and