Lena did not sleep.

Even hours after being dragged into the police station, she sat on the cold concrete floor of the holding cell, hugging her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Her mascara had long washed off, leaving streaks down her cheeks. Her hair clung to her face, and her breath came in quiet, broken sobs.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw blood.

Jamie’s small, limp body.

Anika screaming.

Marcus shouting.

The gunshot.

The police bursting in.

And none of it could be undone.

Marcus was kept in a separate cell down the corridor. He sat hunched over, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands. He didn’t cry...