“Greg, it was a terrible accident. Jennifer didn’t survive her injuries.” Kozak swallowed, tears now in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“What? What? No, no!” Greg’s voice shattered into an agonizing moan, the alarm grew into a scream. He clasped his hands together to keep from coming apart, holding them tight, twisting them until his knuckles whitened.
“Oh my God!” Kat threw her arms around her brother. Then to Kozak: “Are you certain?”
“Yes, we’re certain. I’m sorry.”
“What happened? I want to see her. Where is she?” Greg managed.
“Cleveland,” Kozak said.
“Cleveland?” Greg said.
Kozak took a moment and a small breath. “Nearly two weeks ago, she was seen running onto a freeway at night. She ran into a traffic lane. Drivers attempted to avoid her, but it resulted in a multivehicle collision. She was struck by a tanker truck after it jackknifed, rolled, and exploded. The medical examiner said Jennifer was killed instantly, that she didn’t suffer.”
Greg buried his face in his hands.
Carillo was watching him intently.
Greg lifted his head. “Cleveland? How did she get there? Why was she on the freeway? This makes no sense.”
“We’re going to find the answers,” Kozak said. “We’re working with detectives in Ohio. We’re going to find who, if anyone, is responsible, and bring them to justice.”
“Greg, I’m sorry,” Carillo said, “but we have to ask. Is there a connection that Jennifer, or you, have to Cleveland?”
Greg shook his head.
“No, none.”
“Did you have any reason to be in Cleveland recently?”
“What?” Greg stared at him. “No! This makes no sense! You found her car a couple miles away in Ripplewood. Now you’re telling me this thing happened in Cleveland? It’s not Jenn. It can’t be Jenn! It’s a mistake!”
Kozak glanced at Carillo, at the others, then Greg.
“Remember, we collected Jennifer’s DNA and Jake’s, too,” Kozak said. “Those samples were entered into FBI databases. A comparison was made through the Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation and the Cuyahoga County Medical Examiner. Jennifer’s DNA matched the DNA of the woman on the freeway. I’m so sorry, Greg, but it is Jennifer.”
Kozak was wrong.
He wanted to push the words back into her mouth.
But he didn’t move.
Staring at the floor as if it were an abyss, Greg went numb as if floating out of his body. It couldn’t be real. Until he saw Jenn, it wasn’t true.
“Greg,” Dr. Clemmons said, waiting for him to look at her. “We know your pain is overwhelming. We’re here to help you, to talk to you and Jake.” Her voice was soft, almost soothing. “It doesn’t have to be now. It can be whenever you’re ready. It’s important you know that you have someone to talk to who can help, Greg.”
Then Nora Singer reached into her bag for a crisp brochure folder that gave a soft snap when she opened it slowly to a printed page.
“Greg.” Singer cleared her throat. “When you select the funeral home, give them this information. They’ll contact the people at the medical examiner’s office in Ohio to arrange to bring Jennifer home.”
Her eyes filled with compassion, Singer extended the folder to Greg. He made no move to accept it. Singer glanced to Kat, who took it.
“Thank you.” Kat’s voice was a whisper.
“I can also give you an electronic copy of the information,” Singer said.
“You also need to know,” Kozak said, “that in a few hours, news releases updating Jennifer’s case will be issued here and in Ohio. It’s a requirement under our policy. Media will respond. We’ll make an appeal for the press to respect your privacy, but there are no guarantees they will.”
“Is there anything we can do to help you at this time?” Singer asked.
“We...” Kat found her voice. “We need to get Jake and tell him. His friend’s house is nearby. And I need to call our dad to come here.”
“We can help you, if you like,” Clemmons said. “We could get Jake and tell him. Or would you prefer to tell him?”
“I’ll tell him,” Greg said. Then to Kat: “Tell Dad to get Jake at Carter’s and bring him home. I’ll be upstairs.”
Greg stood and left the room.
He climbed the stairs slowly as if climbing Everest in the thin air of The Death Zone, not feeling or hearing anything but the roar of blood in his ears, alarm throbbing in his gut, his head, his fingers, as if he were going to burst into a million fragments.
He made it to the bedroom, to Jenn’s side of their closet. His chest heaving, looking at her clothes hanging neatly, the things she wore every day. He opened his arms wide, closing them around her tops, her sweaters, her pants, her skirts and dresses, holding the soft fragrant bundle tight as if it were a lifeline. Metal hanger hooks straightened, then plastic hooks snapped from his weight as he dropped to his knees hugging her clothes, plunging his face into them, inhaling her scent, sobbing with such fury his grief thundered against the walls.
* * *
Greg didn’t know how long it was before he heard Jake and his father downstairs.
He pulled himself up, went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face then dried it just as Kat brought Jake to the bedroom door.
Greg sat on the corner of the bed and gestured to Jake.
Kat left, closing the door behind her.
But Jake stood there, his face a portrait of fear.
He stared at his dad.
Greg recognized that even if Jake had not been told, he must have sensed what had happened, must be reading it in his face. Greg also recognized the cruel tragic repetition of horror, for in that moment he and his son were looking at each other, Greg was catapulted back to that day when he was ten and his principal, Sister Mary, took him from the classroom...
...Walking down the hall with Sister Mary... Hearing Sister Roberta’s voice spilling after them in the hall, telling his class: “Stop your work, please. Now we’re going to pray for Greg.”... Arriving at the principal’s office, seeing Kat, her face broken, looking so much older, seeing his dad, still in his work clothes, his big hands crusted with dried mortar, his face white as if all the blood had been drained from him, and he was now a shrunken ghost of himself. They had come to tell him that his mom was dead...
Now here was Greg, staring at Jake, suddenly seeing how much he looked like Jenn.