“It’s easy to say ‘I’ll never drink,’ but harder to achieve it and stick to it,” her doctor had said. “You must be hyperaware that you might be susceptible to an addiction. Millions of people have no issue with alcohol, but some appear to be predisposed to addiction. And it’s showing its ugly face in your mother and grandmother. You need to learn from what you’ve seen. Many addicts don’t have the luxury of this strong warning.”

Trinity swore to heed that warning. She would never be her mother.

The service started. Next to her, Katy frequently wiped at her eyes. Trinity felt her phone vibrate in her coat pocket. Unable to ignore it, she pulled it out.

I’m already addicted to something. My phone. Not good.

It was a text from Jason. Heart speeding up, she opened the message.

WHAT’S THE WORD ON B?

Unable to help herself, she tapped out a reply. NO CHANGE. HAD A SCARE YESTERDAY BUT SHE MADE IT.

She waited. No reply. Feeling disappointed, she slipped the phone back in her pocket and tried to listen. Glory’s uncle was speaking, but Trinity couldn’t focus on his words. The pictures of Glory’s family sucked up her attention. A big family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, tons of cousins. What was it like to grow up with so many people who care about you?

Murmurs started near the back of the church. Trinity tried to ignore it, but they grew louder. Katy craned her head to look past Trinity in the direction of the noise, a frown on her face. Voices escalated and more heads turned to look. Trinity couldn’t see. It came from the dense crowd standing near the main doors.

Voices grew to shouts and people started moving. Glory’s uncle stopped talking.

Katy grabbed her hand and Trinity heard Michael swear under his breath. A half-dozen men yelled, and Trinity saw people start shoving.

Did someone just throw a punch?

Michael’s hand landed on her shoulder and gave her a firm push. “We’re getting out of here. Go. Now!” He thrust Jamie in the direction of a side door and pulled Lacey after him. Lacey tugged at Trinity’s sleeve, and she followed.

“Follow him,” Katy commanded. Trinity pushed between the other mourners. All focus was on the rowdy crowd in the back. Police bulldozed past her, heading toward the riot. One woman slammed her shoulder against Trinity’s, trying to move toward the fighting group.

“Sorry!” Trinity shouted at the passing woman’s back.

Katy gripped Trinity’s shoulders, pushed and steered her after Michael. “Don’t stop!”

A riot in a church?

Panic rose in her throat as more people pressed against her. Trinity felt like she was swimming upstream. She kept her gaze on Michael’s back and pressed on. He shoved open the side door and the group spilled out into the gray rain. More people sped out behind them.

“What happened? What was going on in there?” she blurted, gasping for air.

Michael hustled them to a semidry spot under a tree. “Everyone okay?”

The other three women looked as rattled as Trinity felt.

“I don’t know what happened, but a group of teenage boys started it. As soon as they started pushing and punching, I was getting us out of there,” Michael stated, his eyes grim. “That was too close of quarters for a fight. They can get out of hand fast.”

“But that wasn’t a bar,” Lacey exclaimed. “That was a church! A memorial service! What the hell happened in there?”

“I wasn’t waiting to find out.”

A gunshot echoed from the church.

“To the truck! Now!” Michael commanded. He pointed, grabbed Jamie’s hand, and ran. Trinity caught a frantic look from Jamie and ran after them, bent over in imitation of Michael. She heard Lacey and Katy’s pounding footsteps directly behind her, splashing in the puddles.

“Go, go, go!” Katy yelled behind her.

A gun?

Trinity ran.

Seth blinked and squinted at the computer screen in the medical examiner’s office, but the webpage still said the same thing.

Sixty-eight percent.

Eden had a D in chemistry.

How can that be?

Eden got straight As. No exceptions. What the hell was wrong with her chemistry class? He swallowed and studied the rest of her grades. Three Cs and a B. What was going on? They weren’t final grades; they reflected where she stood at the middle of the term. But still… a D? He reached for his cell phone, trying to get a grip on his temper. He knew college wasn’t like high school and didn’t grade the same, but Eden was sharp. She had the skills to succeed. He dialed her cell.

Why hadn’t she told him she was struggling?

He’d meant to check her grades for weeks, but he’d been wrapped up in the hope for the new job. Maybe he should have looked at them earlier. Was it too late to improve them?

Her phone continued to ring. He held his breath. Voice mail. He hung up.

He stared at the computer screen for another thirty seconds, mind racing. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t answered. He was a bit worked up and might not listen well. He glanced at his watch. Seven P.M.

He sent a text: CALL ME.

He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. The numbers taunted him from the screen. Two of the Cs were nearly Ds.

Was the divorce upsetting her?

A million questions raced through his mind and he mentally set them aside. He needed to talk with her before he jumped to conclusions. Looking at the calendar, he realized it’d been more than a week since he spoken with his daughter. That wasn’t like her. He’d called a few times but had never reached her. He scrolled through his texts. Two days ago, she’d said she’d call him that evening. He checked his call log for missed calls.