"I'm sorry, but you can't be in here right now," an officer said to Lucas. "We have to rule the death a homicide until a cause is confirmed."

Lucas didn't even look at him. "Come on, Maya."

She didn't move.

He went over to her, gently tugged the remote out of her hands and set it down. He grabbed her hands, and guided her into his side. He brought her outside and walked her along the side of the house. "They're going to ask you questions soon," he said to her.

She nodded.

He hugged her, letting out a long, shaking breath. She was a stone in his arms. He wanted to cry, but he wasn't going to cry until she did. He put his hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair. "Is there anything you need?" he asked.

She shook her head, the movement stifled by his sweatshirt.

He knew better than to ask if there was anyone he should call.

He wanted to say something, but everything he thought of sounded like the worst possible thing he could say.

Are you OK? Of course she's not OK.

What happened? Of course she doesn't want to talk about it. She's going to have to talk to the police about it in a few minutes.

He just stood there for ten minutes, holding her and hating himself.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I'm sorry I'm not better at this.

An officer approached. "Ma'am?" he said hesitantly. "We need to talk to you now."

Maya backed a step away from Lucas, looking up at him. He couldn't tell what her eyes were saying, but if there was the smallest chance that it was "don't leave me"…

"I'm staying with her," Lucas informed the officer.

"That's fine."

There were so many questions. So many stupid questions at the worst time possible. Maya found her mother in her bedroom, lying on the bed, with bottles everywhere. She hadn't touched her, but she had looked close enough to know that she wasn't breathing. She had found her at 6:27 P.M. and she had last seen her alive at 1:16 P.M.

The officer finished writing. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said to Maya. "They're going to be bringing out the body in a half-hour. Once we leave, you'll be able to go back inside, but I would suggest that you and your friend go somewhere else until then."

"We will," Lucas said, as the officer walked away.

"I want to stay," Maya whispered.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she said.

"I'm not letting you," Lucas said firmly.

"Okay." She started walking.

Lucas walked close behind her. Her steps were faltering, and he could see her calves shaking even in the darkness. "Did you eat tonight?" he asked.

"No."

He bent down and knocked her off balance, catching her legs in one arm and supporting her back with the other as he straightened up. He carried her far enough away that they couldn't see or hear anything. He sat down on a set of steps, but didn't let go. She stared out at the cars passing with desert eyes. He rocked her back and forth slowly. "You're going to be OK, bedbug," he said. "I'm not going to leave you."

"How can you know that?" she asked dully.

He pressed one of her cold hands to his heart. "Feel that? It hurts every time it's not near you. I'm not going anywhere where you're not."

"I want you to go away, Lucas."

He couldn't do that. He wanted to respect her wishes, but he just couldn't do that. She didn't have anyone else right now. "I'm sorry. I can't."

She shrugged his arms away and stood up, and he didn't stop her. He just stood up too.

She walked away from him.