Twenty-Eight
Twenty-four hours wasn’t enough time to process that he was gone. The paramedics had pronounced him dead at the scene. I’d scrubbed my hands a dozen times since then. Despite that I could still see his blood on my skin, still feel the slickness of it between my fingers, sticking to everything I touched.
His dad had insisted we hold a small ceremony to say goodbye, even though the medical examiner wouldn’t release his body for weeks. Guilt and anger weighed on me as I stood in the back garden at headquarters. Cool autumn air swirled around me, sending shivers through my body. I glanced around at the small group assembled—J.T., my dad, Avery, and Desmond’s dad—and another wave of anger crashed over me. This shouldn’t be happening. Not now, not ever. At least his mom didn’t hav
