Alicante, Spain

2015

Danny joins his sister, Christina, outside the hotel in the blistering heat. He grabs her under the arms and pulls her away from the body. Sirens are sounding in the distance.

In hysterics, she wrestles and cries and shouts, her eyes bulging as she is carried away.

"Get Malcolm!" She finally forms a coherent sentence.

"I've got him," Danny says, still holding onto her.

"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod! What happened? What do I say to the police?" She cries hysterically as she finally breaks free and starts hitting her brother in the chest.

If her pounding fists are hurting him, he can't feel it. Danny grabs her arms and shakes her. "He fell," he says quietly but firmly. "Look at me, Christina. Bernard fell. OK?"

"Ohmygod," she wails. "You—he's dead."

"I know."

"Malcolm. Where is he?" she cries. Her voice is beginning to crack as her throat closes up.

"He's just in the lobby. I told him not to come out."

Danny holds on to Christina as the sirens get louder and louder. "We're going to have to talk to the police." His voice shakes slightly as he tries not to look at the body.

"You talk... I can't," she moans, tears streaming down her face.

"They'll want to talk to you anyway. You're his girlfriend. He fell, OK?" He forces her to look him in the eye and she nods as the police car and over-optimistic ambulance pull up behind them.