I remember. I remember standing in the foyer of Godwin House, the cold night at my back and muddy dress clinging to my legs. Ice water pooled on the floor. I remember MacDonald calling the police. I remember them picking Alex’s red hair from where it had caught, tangled, around my fingers. Oh god. It was an accident. I had just kept saying that, over and over, a litany. Where is Alex, Felicity? What happened to Alex?
