#Chapter 192: Picking Up The Pieces

I watched out the car window as Lucas exited the police station. From the heaviness in his shoulders, I could tell that the news wasn't good. But I had spent the last hour in the car trying to get myself to calm down and come to terms with it. Well, as best as I could right now, anyway. Lucas opened the driver's side door and slid into the seat. He turned to look at me. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, held a sadness that confirmed what I already knew. He didn't need to say a word; I could see it etched on his face. My father was gone. I took a deep breath, struggling to summon the tears that seemed to have abandoned me. "Is it him?" I asked, my voice a fragile thread in the quiet of the car. Lucas nodded solemnly, and the numbness that had cocooned me tightened its grip. The reality was there, cold and unyielding. "Did they... do they know how he died?" I questioned, my words feeling foreign as they left my lips. "They do," Lucas said, observing my car