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be calling to gloat about it. “At six o’clock in the morning? I’m sorry, Agent Crabtree, but isn’t it a bit early to be calling to harass me about a friend I recently lost?”
    “I realize it’s early, Dr. Burns. And, yes, this is highly unusual. I’m not in the habit of questioning people this early. But, trust me, nothing about this Collin Cook case can be termed “usual.” And if it weren’t very urgent, I would wait until you had a little more time to cool down after your morning run.”
    “How did you —”
    “I’m a detective, Dr. Burns. A very good one, at that.”
    Emily felt like she’d been knocked off balance. Her mind raced, trying to connect dots she couldn’t see and certainly couldn’t make sense of at this early hour. She wasn’t used to interacting with people before work. This was her quiet time, her alone time, and he was infringing—no, imposing—upon it. Why? There had to be a compelling reason. She had to come back strong. And quickly.
    Feeling suddenly lightheaded, she sat at her dining room table. A single sunflower stood in a tall beaker of water, half filled with glass marbles. It, too, pointed toward the window, searching for light. “I don’t know why you’re calling me, Special Agent Crabtree. Collin Cook is dead. Says so right on your agency’s website.” Not quite the strong comeback she was looking for.
    “That may be true, Dr. Burns, but we are still investigating the circumstances leading up to his disappearance,” said Crabtree. “We need to know everything you know about him.”
    Emily vacillated, not sure what to tell him but feeling like she had to say something. “I know nothing. We broke up years ago.”
    “Don’t play dumb with me, Dr. Burns. I know more about your relationship with him than you think I know.”
    Still trying to recover, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “There’s nothing to know, Agent Crabtree, because there’s been no relationship since high school.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it, sensing she could get trapped in her lie.
    “Now you’re assuming I haven’t done my homework. I see,” said Agent Crabtree, who sounded like he was moving and breathing quickly. “Well, we know you saw him in Chicago two weeks ago and spent some time with him there. I can only suppose you know something more than we know based on that time together.” Reggie paused. When Emily didn’t respond, he continued. “We also know you were at the funeral for Amy Cook and the children and at Petaluma Hospital with Mr. Cook after he injured himself at the time of his wife’s accident. Shall I go on?”
    Her hand went to her forehead as her stomach did a back flip. She stared through the glass tabletop at her well-worn neon-pink running shoes as they tapped the floor anxiously. Breathing became a chore and forming coherent sentences a laborious effort. “It sounds like you know quite a bit. Why do you need me?”
    “Isn’t it obvious, Dr. Burns?” asked Reggie. “You’ve spent more time with him in the past year than any other human being we’re aware of.”
    “I don’t think I know anything that can help you, Agent Crabtree.” Emily’s voice was flat and unconvincing. She knew it and figured Crabtree was smart enough to pick up on it.
    During the pause that followed, she heard something like the ding of a bell – no, an elevator door – in the background above the sound of his breathing.
    “We need to know what he told you while you were together in Chicago. Certainly the two of you talked in that little café. You remember the time you spent sipping coffee at the Bio Med Conference?”
    This guy knew everything. These revelations stunned her, and she struggled to keep up with the conversation. It was as if she was treading water in a sea of questions on a test that she had failed to study for. “What he told me? You want to know what he told me? Do you mean the part about how he liked my presentation? Or