I was chopping vegetables when my four-year-old daughter

mouth open, cheeks flushed.

On the back, in Diane’s handwriting, are the words:

After dose. Finally peaceful.

Andrew bends over the photo as if he may vomit.

I pick up the little unlabeled bottle.

The officer takes it from my hand carefully.

“What is it?” Andrew asks.

“I don’t know.”

But I do know one thing.

It is pink.

At the hospital, Emma is awake when we continue reading …