“I don’t know,” Pacey confessed, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t know how long I stood there before I called.”

“Do you know what time your wife woke up this morning?”

“Her alarm is set for five. It’s always set for five.” He stared down at his hands only looking up as one of the police detectives draped a blanket around his bare shoulders. “She gets up, she makes herself breakfast, she writes me a note and she leaves. I was hoping she’d stay home today.” He managed a weak smile, trembling with effort. “It’s our anniversary.”

“What does your wife do?”

“Nothing anymore.” The laughter was completely inappropriate, but he was helpless to stop it. “Except lie there and look at me.” The tears came of their own accord and he was just as helpless to stop them. “She’s...she’s the principal of the local high school.”

“And why would she be working on a Saturday, Mr. Witter?”

“Saturdays she did community service. My wife is...was...she liked to be involved. It was what she excelled at.” He looked up at the officer questioning him and met his cool gaze. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“We’ve been married for five years. We dated in high school, went our separate ways and then we hooked up again after she got out of college. Just friends, hanging around. And one day I realized that all those old feelings, the ones I thought had disappeared? Well, they came back. Only different. Stronger. Because she was different. Only...only not so much as I thought.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Witter?”

“Andie’s been on medication the entire time I’ve known her. She was on anti-depressants. And for a while, I think she was on something stronger...different. Anti-psychotics or something. Her brother was killed and her mother suffered from something.” He shook his head, hating that he no longer seemed to know the simplest of answers. “She suffered from depression and they had her on a variety of medications to regulate that.”

“Was she still taking them regularly?”

“As far as I knew.” He shook his head sending another cascade of tears from his eyes. “She’d been acting normally. There was nothing wrong that I could tell.” He rubbed his eyes angrily. “I should have been able to tell, shouldn’t I?”

“Pacey?”

Pacey looked up as Jack burst in through the door, pushing aside a police officer. He knelt in front of his friend and looked at him, concern and disbelief in his eyes. “Hey Jack.”

“Pacey? I heard on the scanner that something was going on. What happened? I got the impression that...”

“Andie’s dead.” He said the words, refused to believe them. “She’s lying in there in the living room, her blood all over the carpet. She...she slit her wrists and just lay there bleeding.” Losing control, Pacey let himself collapse, feeling Jack’s arms catch him. “I...I didn’t know, Jack,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Jack stroked Pacey’s hair, his eyes searching for the officer in charge. “I know, Pace.” Disentangling himself from his brother-in-law, he got to his feet, leaving Pacey with one of the female officers, who guided him into toward the counter to pour him some coffee. Jack walked over to the lead officer and glanced at the pad in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“There’s not much to tell, Jack. He woke up, came into the kitchen, picked up a cinnamon roll, walked into the living room and found your sister.”

“What about her? Any clues? Notes?” He glanced through the notes the other officer had written and rubbed his forehead. “I’m assuming it was a suicide, from what I heard. Is there anything?”

“The only note she left was one telling Pacey that she had some work to do this afternoon and she’d see him for dinner, which apparently he’d promised to cook.” He shrugged. “I wish I could tell you more. But I think he’s likely to have more answers than I do. And he doesn’t seem to have any.”

Jack nodded and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts. “I’m going to need to take some time off, I think. I don’t know that he’s going to handle this well.”

“Do what you need to.”

“Except now is not a good time, right?” Jack smirked. “Since we have our own little crisis downtown.”

“Family comes first, Jack. We know that.”

“Except when you’re a cop, everyone’s family.” He glanced over the other officer’s shoulder into the living room, seeing nothing but shadows of the crew working the room. “Give me a couple of days?”

“Whatever you need.” The officer walked away and Jack forced his body in the direction of Pacey. He was slumped against the counter, the coffee cup dangling loosely in his hand.

“I’ll take over, Marjorie.”

“Thanks, Jack.” She gave him a quick salute, despite his lack of uniform, and left the two of them alone. Pacey didn’t look up at him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Finally, Jack took the cup from his hand.

“Do you have someplace to stay?”

“No. Yes.” He shook his head. “I have a house. Only it’s not exactly the most comforting place right now.”

“Why don’t you stay at my place? I’m rarely home, and you could feed the cat.”

“I don’t know, Jack.” His blue eyes were dull, deadened, making Jack think of the image of what his sister’s eyes must look like. “I have this overwhelming urge to run away. Is that wrong?”

“Where would you run to?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but here and these goddamn remnants of a life that I didn’t know I no longer had when I woke up this morning.” He held back tears, angry ones this time. “What the fuck was she thinking, Jack? We were fucking happy. I mean, it was our goddamn anniversary and she pulls this shit.” Pacey pushed away from the counter, pacing the large kitchen, clutching the blanket around his shoulders. “And don’t tell me that I’m being unreasonable or stupid here, because my goddamn fucking wife is lying in the fucking living room in a pool of her own blood because...” He lost control once more and sank to his knees, burying his head in his hands. Jack knelt down beside him and hugged him once more, rocking him back and forth.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s not your fault.”

“You don’t fucking know that,” he sobbed quietly.

“I do. Because I know that Andie loved you and I know that she would never do something like this to hurt you. Whatever it was, Pace, it was too big for her to handle and she didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“She’s been fine.”

“We thought so. I thought so.” He pulled back and managed to give Pacey a weak smile. “But you can’t always tell what she was thinking. And she’s not always honest about stuff like that.”

“She hadn’t dyed her hair,” Pacey laughed sadly. “She’s supposed to give me clues. I mean,” he held out the note he’d had clutched in his hand. “Pacey, I can’t wait until tonight. I made you your favorite breakfast so that I can be sure you’ll give me what I want for dinner. I love you. Happy anniversary, Andie.” He repeated the written words flatly, burned into his memory. “How does something like that lead you into the living room with a fucking paring knife so you can slit your wrists?”

“We’ll figure it out somehow, Pace. But right now, I think you need to get out of here. Out of the house, away from the memories.” He helped him stand up and guided him toward the hallway, hoping the other officers had closed the door to the living room. “Go get dressed, pack a few things and I’ll take you to my place.”

Pacey’s body moved, obviously on some sort of autopilot. “Changing where I’m sleeping isn’t going to get her out of my head, Jack. Nothing’s ever going to get the sight of her out of my head.”