Once, they sent me a letter written by a retired lieutenant of the California police. The details in the letter were supposed to help clarify the chronology of the cold case investigation. The information on the timeline was useful, but what stuck in my head was done by the lieutenant aside, a complaint about disorganization and missed opportunities, about the tendency of the police to go alone and not share what they know. “Controlling policemen is like grazing cats,” the lieutenant wrote....

Years of trying to balance the love I wanted and the love he gave ended in a whimper, not a bang The conversation happened at a time when we were still trying to “work it out.” As if the failures of a two-decade relationship were little more than a stubborn stain requiring a bit more soap and scrubbing. We sat at “my” table in the apartment I had moved into in an act of separation. I had made a pot of steaming chamomile tea. He was a guest in my home. It was a strange dynamic between two adults who had known each other since before they’d been allowed to drive...