I wake up like I always do when I’m at his house - early in the morning so I can sneak back over to my own home, where I still live with my parents, before they wake up.

I shouldn’t, though. Not now.

My eyes stab at the dark, trying to find Travis. His hoodie is swung over the chair at his desk, but he isn’t here. I rub the sleep away from my eyes and squint around the room. A sliver of light comes from the hallway, and I go over to the door and open it.

I hear two male voices as I make my way into the hall and down the stairs cautiously. I pull my robe tighter around my waist and make sure that I’m completely covered, in case someone sees me.

The muffling of their voices starts to clear up and each takes on a life of its own. There’s an older man talking sternly, and I swear I recognize his voice. I make my way farther downstairs, past the row of school portraits of Travis lining the wall. I place my hand on the banister, peeking down, trying to see who is down there.

I do know the older gentleman. It’s my dad’s partner, Officer Finlay. He’s in plain clothes, and I can only see the back of his head, but I’d recognize his posture and body anywhere. I look farther down, past the wall adjacent to the banister, and see Travis sitting at the kitchen table. All the lights are on, and when Mr. Finlay turns slightly, I can see that he’s holding a small notepad and flipping through the pages.

I start to go back upstairs, softly making my way up, careful not to make my presence known. I shouldn’t be here as it is, and I don’t want to get involved in whatever it is they’re talking about. It’s probably something to do with his mom’s death. I know from my dad that whenever a person passes away at home, there’s an investigation. But it doesn’t make sense, because Mrs. Bloom passed away a few days ago and the investigation should have been wrapped up by now.

“Daisy?” Mr. Findlay calls up to me, his voice hitting my eardrums like a bad note. If my dad finds out from him that I was over here, he’ll be pissed.

“It’s okay Daisy, come down,” Travis says, his voice defeated. I make my way back downstairs, trying to look confident, but I don’t want to talk to my dad’s partner right now.

“Please, sit,” Mr. Findlay says, pulling a chair out for me at the kitchen table. “I just wanted to ask you a couple of things.”

If my dad put him up to this, I’d be mortified. Showing up early in the morning like this to interrogate me and Travis like a couple of criminals. Dad was always overprotective, but this is going a little overboard, if you ask me.

If my parents knew that Travis proposed, maybe they’d see things differently.

“A moment, Travis?” Mr. Findlay tilts his chin at Travis, and Travis gets up to go upstairs. He looks back down at me, his blue eyes shining with new life, his jaw clenched hard, as his lips curl up into a slight smile before he disappears upstairs.

Mr. Findlay towers over me, peering down over his notebook. He’s been my dad’s partner for over twenty years, and he knows everyone in this town. He was always the good cop to my dad’s bad cop. When Travis, Alec and a few other guys got caught drinking wine coolers in the parking lot of the high school in 11th grade, he let them off with a warning and laughed when he related the story to my mom, dad and me. My dad would have arrested them on the spot for trespassing, underage drinking, driving under the influence, and knowing him, he probably would have given Travis a lecture about staying away from his daughter.

We’ve both heard lectures like that before.

But it doesn’t feel like Mr. Findlay is about to give me a lecture. The way he’s looking at his notebook, it seems like he’s searching for something.

“This is going to be simple, Daisy, and I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

He pulls a chair out from the table and perches down on it, his legs spread out, taking up too much room. I feel so small in comparison, helpless. I want Travis to come be by my side.

“What is it? What’s going on?” I ask, looking around the kitchen at how messy it still is.

“Were you here all night, Daisy?” he asks, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

I sigh and let out a deep breath. “Yeah,” I confirm, “I was here all night. Did my dad send you over?”

“Were you with Travis all last night?” he asks, jotting something down in his notebook.

I try to look away from the notebook, but I can’t take my eyes off it. I want desperately to see what he’s writing down. Is it something about me? About Travis?

“Yeah,” I say quickly, “I was with Travis all night.”

“Did you wake up at all during the night?”

“No,” I say. But it’s not the whole truth. I can’t lie. “Not really.”

“Okay,” he says, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin, scratching it contemplatively. “Daisy, is it possible that Travis wasn’t with you all night?”

I shake my head. “No, he was here all night. With me. Is something the matter?” Worry flashes through me like a wave, and I feel my face heat up. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry to put you through this. Just a few more questions. Are you sure that Travis was here all night? I mean, if you were sleeping...could he have left?”

I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat is too big. Heat pricks at my throat and I shut my eyes tight.

“Yeah,” I choke out. “It’s possible.”

“Thank you, Daisy. You’ve been very helpful.”

He gets up and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I don’t know what the hell just happened.