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It took three days before Lazarus was in front of an Internal Affairs review board, which was really just two detectives taking his statement. The men smoked and laughed and talked little about the case. They asked if he wanted his union rep there, and he declined. Then they turned on the recording equipment and asked Lazarus for his official statement.

He went through in detail what had happened in those seconds after Ms. Danes and Detective Riley had left the house.

Owen escaped the cuffs and lunged for Lazarus’s gun. During the struggle, Lazarus regained control and ordered Owen down. Owen shoved him away, ripping his shirt, and charged again, and in response, Lazarus fired a single time. The bullet entered through Owen’s mouth. Despite Lazarus performing CPR, Owen didn’t survive.

They asked a few questions and then thanked him for his time and said that they would be in touch with their findings.

He left the building and went to his car and sat quietly a moment, in debate. Then he started it and headed to the freeway.

Lake Danes’s funeral had already begun by the time he got there. He saw Piper and Sophie, and a lot of friends and relatives. He leaned on his car and kept his distance, but he could hear the words of the preacher. Words about fire and clay and the dead rising out of ash.

When it ended, Piper saw him. She walked over. She was in black and looked nice, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Don’t like funerals or weddings. Two of the same thing if you ask me,” he said, trying to make her smile.

She looked down to her shoes. “I don’t think I got to thank you.”

“You don’t need to ... I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry as hell and—”

“I know,” she said.

He looked over to the crowd that was dispersing from the gravesite. “How’s Sophie?”

“She’s hanging in. We found a friend of the family in San Jose that’s willing to take her. She’s a director of a nice charter school there, and Sophie’s going to enroll.”

He looked to the small tractor that would be pushing dirt over the coffin. “You goin’ back to the GAL?”

“I don’t know. Judge Dawson called me to talk. She mentioned she wants me to stay. I haven’t decided. I’m taking a leave of absence for a while, and I guess I’ll see what happens.”

“Don’t take too long to decide if you’re coming back or not. I’d hate to have to train someone new.”

He got back into his car. Before pulling away, he said, “You need anything, you call me.”

“I will.”

She watched him as he drove away.