He looked tired, his silver hair messy, but his eyes were kind.

“I brought you some vegetable soup from the cafeteria, Marissa,” Arthur said, setting the bag on the bedside table.

“You need to eat if you want to keep your strength up for the little guy.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” I said, a tear finally slipping down my cheek.

“Did the lawyer leave?” Arthur asked Harris.

“He did,” Harris said. “But we are keeping a officer posted outside this door twenty-four hours a day until the suspects are in custody.”

Arthur nodded, his face grim. “Good. Because those people do not know how to stop.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out the warm container of soup, but my stomach was in knots.

I couldn’t eat.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Landon’s face on the beach, sipping a drink while our son gasped for air in the humid house.

I looked at the phone in my lap.

The screen lit up with a notification.

It was a flight status tracker app that I had shared with Landon weeks ago when we planned our lives together.