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erican flag. An eight by twelve p hoto of Ben, in uniform at his academy graduation, sits on a wooden easel next to the caske t . His s m iling p rese n ce feels like a personal rebuke. Something twines inside m y chest and s q ueezes. I can feel a s m all pulse drum m i ng beneath m y cheekbones.
    The piped-in organ m u si c gets louder. The r e is a rustle from t he back of the roo m . All heads t u rn as the fa m ily begins their slow walk down the center aisle. April hu n ches against her f ather, clinging to him as though s h e is blind as well as brokenhearted. W is ps of blonde hair spill o u t from under a veiled h at t h at conceals her downturned face. She is wearing a s h ort, sleevel e ss black m aternity dress.
    Her father steps one foot at a ti m e, in the slow cadence of the m i ssing honor guard. Tall and thin, his sharp features c oncentrate into a m ask, his eyes n arrow and focused straight ahead. H er m other walks beh i nd, shorter and heavier than April, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She wears soft shoes t h at wheeze u nder her weight. Behind her is the chapl a in. He m ounts the p lat f or m . W ith slow, careful mov e m ents he unfolds a purple vest m ent, slips it over his head and op e ns his bible. He looks out at the sparse crowd with a pract i ced mournful s m ile. The service is brief and shorn of any details about Ben’s death. The chaplain m akes it seem as if Ben has just evaporated in the line of duty on the threshold of a career he loved passionately, called by a benevolent God to stand w atch in Heaven.
    Afterwards, we line up to pay our respects to the f a m ily. Chief Baxter motions for m e to go ahead of him a s the line moves slo w ly forward. April stands next to the guest book. Rivulets of m ascara puddle under her eyes and leak over her bloated cheeks. I open my ar m s to her.
    “April, I’m so sorry. This is beyond words.”
    Her jaw goes slack and she covers h e r m outh with her hands. Her tiny diamond wedding band glints in the low light. She tur n s to her father. “D a ddy, it’s that doctor. She’s here.”
    He lurches out of the receiving line, his ar m s stretched to the side like a hu m an shield, blocking my view. He bends do w n until h i s fa ce is level in f r ont of m i ne. His voice is a low growl. “Lea v e m y daughter alone. Do not call, do not write, do not try to get in touch with her or I’ll have a restraining order issued against you. Understand m e ? ”
    “I’m sorry, I only want to help.” I feel a bu m p f r om behind as Baxter takes m e by the arm and pulls m e toward the door. He does n ’t let go until we are in the parking lot.
    My heart is thu m ping so loudly I wonder if he can hear it.
    “Vinnie Patcher,” he says. “Mercenary s on-of-a-bitch. Always out for hi m self. We went through the acade m y together and t h en he went to law school. Now h e ’ s Chief D.A. in Sacra m ento County. He ’ s an a m bitious bastard. S m ells big m oney and he’s sali v ating . ”
    “Don’t be so cynical. Grief m akes peop l e act crazy. His son in law’s dead, his daughter is suffering and his grandchild is facing life without a father. Y ou’d probably be crazy to o , in the s a m e situ a tion . ”
    “Don’t be naïve. Patcher ’ s crazy like a fox. I off e red the fa m ily a liaison officer, an escort to the funeral, counseling, whateve r . H e didn’t want any of it. Wouldn’t even let m e speak to his daughter. He doesn’t care about Ben. I’m telling you, this guy is trouble. He’s always been a pain in the ass. And now he’s got a good cause.”

Chapter Ten
     
     
    I spend the weekend beating m yself up for being a lousy therapist, a failure as a wife, and a disappoint m ent as a daughter, consorting with the ene m y when I should have been happily m arried and having children.
    My m other calls and invites m e for Saturday night country line dancing, the highlight of the week at her apart m ent co m plex. But I