They were just entering the outskirts of Casa Grande when Alex’s phone went off — probably because they’d at last come in range of a decent cell tower. Sunken in misery, Caitlin startled, then watched as he reached over and lifted his phone from where it had been resting on the dashboard.
It felt as though someone else was watching him do that, though, because the only thing that kept echoing through her head was, Roslyn is dead, Roslyn is dead, Roslyn is dead, and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. How could Roslyn be dead — carefree Roslyn, whose voice and gift for music could have given her far more material success if she’d chosen it? But she didn’t care about money or fame, had loved singing in the local bars and restaurants and clubs, was friends with everyone she met, it
