The apartment was quiet when they got back from the clinic. Jason closed the door behind them with a heavy push, dropping the keys onto the counter. He turned, half-expecting Leah to speak, but she didn’t. She slipped out of her jacket, moving slowly, like her body was there but her mind was somewhere else.

Jason frowned. “You okay?”

Leah didn’t answer right away. She walked into the living room, sat on the couch, and picked up a framed photo from the shelf. Her fingers traced over the glass, gentle, almost trembling. Jason knew the picture before he saw it.

Torres Hill.

The sharp-dressed detective stood in uniform, his arm...