Concerned by Becky's health and news of a shooter, cops held us on the stairs for a good twenty minutes. I explained what I could to the commanding officer, a burly man whose face seemed trapped between relief and misery every time he addressed Becky.

After a medic gave the all-clear to Becky  and the officer quietly stated that the medical examiner was needed for the body, I helped my friend make her way up the stairs (now aglow with artificial spotlights) and toward the nearest ambulance. Becky hadn't improved much since fainting, but she was alert and responsive, pulling an orange medical blanket around her shoulders as an EMT cradled her daughter a few steps ahead. Emma was doing okay, thankfully, but stress and dehydration left her in need of a little extra care.

A small crowd had gathered beyond the ring of seven cop cars, tape, and barricades; among it stood a Einar absent his suitcoat, arguing with some poor cop about his right to cross. Anger shortened his gestures to quick strikes at the air.

"I'll be back," I told Becky, rubbing the tarp-like blanket. "Einar's arrived."

She just kept walking, trailing after the EMT as if in a trance.

Making my way to the irate bodyguard, I fiddled with my clutch, more eager to tell my parents about finding Emma than I was to listen to Einar's inevitable lecture. My phone showed another missed call. Dad. I tried back but got no answer. It was late; he was probably asleep on the plane anyway. The good news would have to wait. 

"He's with me," I called to the cop, returning the phone to its home. "My guard."

The woman needed further proof, but flagging down the commander who'd interviewed me before was enough. She backed off and Einar stepped through, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. "Ma'am," he greeted me in the curt tone of someone who would've preferred to scream the word.

Dust covered his slacks, condensed around his knees. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair a slicked back mess. "I see you got out," I observed, and waved towards the officer in charge. "He took your gun, but I didn't use it. Neither did Becky. You'll have to retrieve it later."

Einar's shoulders pulled back in time to the emergence of a frown as he regarded the possessor of his weapon. "Has Rebecca answered her phone recently?"

The question caught me off-guard. "No? It's been on silent since we got to the ..."

"Restaurant?" He scowled, and I had the distinct impression he didn't want to know where we'd actually been.

"Yeah. The Restaurant," I agreed. "Why?"

"The young man's family arrived at your home and received notice from the hospital. Apparently he did not survive complications post surgery."

My hand flew to my mouth. "Have they been trying to reach her?"

"The hospital left a message. Before leaving for the hospital, his family requested you break the news if possible. You know her best and with her mother deceased-"

"Her mother's body hasn't been brought out yet. How do you know about that?"

"Body bag went down," he said without missing a beat. His fingers fell to his cuffs, brushing a speck of dirt.

We'd cleaned our floors in anticipation of my parents.

"Einar," I began, feeling snakes of anxiety twist in my stomach. Light spots on his knees, as if he'd brushed them off.  As if he'd been kneeling in thick dust. "I'm only going to ask once."

The hazel eyes he turned on mine were murky swamp water, and his voice low and rumbling, as if a gator were telling me of his night's hunt. "I did what I had to do, for you and the child."

"It didn't need to come to that. We had it under control."

"You lost control when you tied me to the oven. If you'd let the authorities handle this, you wouldn't have created a ghost in this music hall. No one's blood would be sprayed across the stage."

That hit me hard. Hard enough that my chest swelled and I dragged him towards one of the shop's boarded windows, away from prying ears. "We needed her alive. Becky's mom said I was paying her, and my bodyguard's the one that kills her. She believed me before. You don't think she's going to wonder now? You might've cost me my best friend." During the course of my rant Einar's expression dimmed. His mouth had become a thin, grim line. "Didn't know that, did you? Someone paid her to steal Emma and claim it was me."

"Not every coincidence is a happy one," he finished, but there was a reluctance about him that suggested he might now regret his actions.

His phone rang.

"Answer it," I commanded, hot with rage. "I don't want to talk to you for the rest of the night. Get your gun and get out of here. I'll be with Becky."

One look at Becky, perched on the back step of the ambulance, her daughter's toes kicking the air happily, drained every ounce of anger in an instant. I'd never met Darcy, not in person anyway. On the phone and over various laptops and cell phones, sure. I'd looked forward to shaking his hand, to meeting this man who'd been so good to my friend when he found out she was pregnant and going to keep it.

But I knew what they had was love, the real kind, the unending kind. Their lives together had only just merged, but it was there, present in every look, every gesture, every moment they spent together.

You don't have to be in love to see love in other people.

Every step towards her was a heavier weight than the last.

How do you tell someone that all the family she has left is snuggled in her lap? Where do you even begin?

"Hey," I began.

"Hey." She smiled from beneath the orange blanket, not looking up as she teased Emma's fingers with her own.

"Um, so, it's been a wild night." With a quiet, understanding nod, the EMT gave us some privacy and I sat beside her on the cold metal. "Are you okay?"

Her green eyes were full and tinted pink. She shook her head, focused only on her daughter's smiling face.

"She's beautiful," I said, leaning in.

"She's safe. That's what matters." Emma's hand clutched her mother's thumb, drawing a gentle sigh from Becky. "We're gonna go to the hospital now. Maybe get a room next to Daddy's."

I laced my fingers together, then uncrossed them all and took a deep breath. It was wrong, doing this out here where exhaust filled the air and bystander's faces changed colors and expressions as fast as an emergency vehicle's lights.  "Becky, I am so sorry."

"It's okay. I know you weren't behind this."

"No-I. I'm not, but I..." Einar watched me from afar, phone pressed to his ear. Not now, I decided. Not two blows in a row. "Darcy's family is at the hospital right now."

"I got a voicemail." She looked into the depths of the ambulance, where her bag rested on an empty stretcher.

"Did you listen to it?"

"No," came a husky whisper. "I know what it is."

"Then you know we have to have this conversation."

"We don't," she said, shaking. "Let us be."

"I'm so sorry, Becky, but I need you to hear me. As much as you don't need to or want to." I covered her hand and Emma's with mine. "Darcy's gone."

Tears pitter-pattered on Emma's checks. Her tiny face scrunched up in confusion- and then she screamed and screamed like we all wanted to and Becky held her tight, rocking and crying and hugging all she had left of him.

Einar tapped my shoulder with the corner of my cell. "Ma'am."

"Not now," I hissed, wiping my eyes.

"The Norwegian Police Service for you. Chief Braaten." He forced the phone into my palm. "You must."

With red eyes I glared at him, stepped away from Becky and answered. "Bad timing, Braaten."

"I understand your situation overseas." Braaten's voice was oiled and smooth as ever, but tonight he was absent the usual, flirtatious cheer of the force's rising star.

"What do you need?" I snapped.

"I am very sorry, Allison." He took a breath, the same sunken, somber breath I'd taken minutes earlier. "For everything that transpired tonight."

The back of my neck went cold. Ice slid along my spine. My fingers numbed. I couldn't speak, couldn't ask what happened. In my dumbstruck silence he carried on.

"There was a shooting at your mother's awards dinner. We have him in custody. Your father suffered a heart attack but is in recovery."

Silence.

"Mom?" I croaked.

Silence.

The next thing I knew I was propped against an ambulance wheel, the phone two feet away on the ground. Einar crouched before me, his broad-shoulders shielding Becky and the EMT from access to me. All the muscles in my arms had collapsed. I couldn't push him away if I wanted to. "What happened to my mom?" I asked him, panic crawling up my throat, constricting my lungs, making the world spin. "Where's Mom?"