“You’re dead,” he muttered, his teeth chattering from the cold. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“A minor legal fiction,” Evelyn replied, her voice dry.

A sleek black town car pulled up behind Brooke’s sedan, its headlights cutting through the heavy fog.

The rear door swung open immediately.

My mother, Helen, stepped out into the pouring rain.

She did not have an umbrella, but she did not seem to care about the water ruining her styled hair.

She walked straight toward us, her leather heels clicking sharply on the asphalt before she reached the wood of the dock.

She stood beside Brooke, who immediately reached out and grabbed her mother’s damp sleeve.

“Mom, they have the laptop,” Brooke whispered, her voice high and thin.

Helen ignored her.

She looked at the officer holding Gavin, her expression completely flat.

“Release him,” Helen said. “There has been a misunderstanding here.”

The officer did not let go of Gavin’s arm. “Ma’am, this is a police matter.”

“It is a family matter,” Helen corrected him, her voice freezing the air between us.

She looked directly at me, her eyes empty of any warmth.