Gwen moved briskly, while I limped through the pain as fast as I could. We arrived at her vehicle—a white van that advertised the Rockfield Gazette on the side—and sped off. Gwen had no answers to my incessant questions, but something told me it was related to this being this day, and that scared me. Gwen explained that she got the tip from Jones. He was the first officer to arrive at the scene. I wasn’t surprised. Three police cars blocked the bridge, their flashing lights blinding. A sick feeling attacked my stomach like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d witnessed more than my share of death and knew what it looked like. I saw the stretcher covered in the black tarp. As Gwen slowed the van, I hopped out before it came to a full stop, almost falling in the process. But I felt no pain shoot through my brittle body—I was completely numb. I stormed past police who tried to hold me back. I walked to the tarp and pulled it back.
