“What’s wrong with me?” Grace says, quiet as a sigh. “Why do I feel empathy towards him? Like I feel bad that I’m talking about Byron?” “It’s okay to still love him,” Nesbitt says, reaching her hand toward Grace’s leg. “But we’re involved now, and we’re going to get you and your children the help you need.” She tells a story then that might be true, might be apocryphal. This one detective, Nesbitt says, used to be on their squad, and he was lactose intolerant. Wouldn’t you know it, his favorite food was ice cream. He loved ice cream. But every time he ate it, it made him sick. Luck of the
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