I spend two days sleeping. Juliet's funeral is on Saturday.
I have one more day to sleep through.
The thud of the newspaper against the door makes me blink.
I consider getting up.
Decide not to.
Stare at the wall.
Decide that if I'm not going back to sleep I might as well get up.
I retrieve the newspaper more out of habit than desire.
Slip the rubber band off because it's in my hands and I seem to have developed something of a nervous tic over the last few days.
I can't keep my hands still.
That doesn't quite explain why I open the paper.
When I move again the square of sun coming through the front door has shifted upwards by at least a few inches.
And still I can't quite comprehend what I'm seeing.
My eyes scan the front page headline story, skimming over the pictures.
A black panel van pulled up in front of the station, parking right in front of the steps.
The horn was sounded for several minutes until a couple of officers came out to investigate, Karen among them.
At her appearance the driver's side door opened.
Shawn stepped out.
Tossed a ring of keys to Karen.
Walked to the side door and pulled it open revealing a bench seats and part of the one behind it.
Three faces looked at the open door. The clink of combination hand-and-ankle-cuffs filtered out as another face moved into view from the next bench back from the door.
Shawn gestured at the open door in a presentational way.
And walked away.
On the ring were two keys. The ignition key for the van. And a cuff key.
The suspects were being processed and would be prosecuted for armed robbery and murder two.
A bittersweet smile crept over my face.
"Atta boy, Spencer."