Before I booked my flight to Las Vegas, I did something I hadn’t done in five years. I went to the cemetery.

The morning air was crisp and biting as I walked through the manicured lawns of Oakwood Memorial. I stopped in front of a granite headstone engraved with a beautiful, weeping angel.

Beloved Sister, Daughter, Friend.
Gone Too Soon.

I stood there for an hour. I remembered the day she “died.” The frantic phone call from the Coast Guard. Rushing to the hospital to find David wrapped in a foil blanket, smelling of smoke and gasoline, sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. He told the police that the boat’s engine had exploded. He had been thrown clear into the water, but Chloe had been trapped in the cabin below.