Before he even realised what he was doing, his feet were moving him towards his colleague.
Bryant lifted his eyes from the hole in the ground and blinked away the emotion before frowning.
Penn followed his gaze and swallowed. He couldn’t stop now.
‘I know this probably isn’t the time to—’
‘It’s not,’ Bryant said, cutting him off. ‘You do know what we’re doing here today?’
‘Yes, but I need to say something before we can put it to bed,’ Penn pushed. Today was all about bravery, and now he’d started, he couldn’t stop.
‘There’s nothing to put—’
‘I’m sorry I’m not Dawson,’ he blurted out, addressing the only thing he thought it could be. He cursed his own bad timing at mentioning the death of one colleague while standing beside the freshly dug grave of another, but now he’d started, he couldn’t stop, despite the puzzlement that now shaped his colleague’s face. ‘I know everyone was close to him and that I took his place on the team. I’m sorry I’m not him, and if I could bring him back, I’d do it in a—’
‘Not even close, Penn,’ Bryant said, shaking his head. ‘We all had individual relationships with Dawson. Mine wasn’t a particularly close one, but he had his moments of brilliance, and I’ll always respect that the man gave his life to save a child.’
The irony of the reason for them standing where they were right now was not lost on him. He knew he couldn’t have picked a worse time. They were all hurting, but he had to get to the bottom of this antagonism Bryant held towards him. He’d always assumed that it was taking the man longer than anyone else to come to terms with Dawson’s death.
‘Jeez, Bryant, I just wish you’d tell me what I’ve done wrong,’ Penn said, running his hand through his curls.
‘You want the truth?’ Bryant asked.
‘Of course. If I didn’t want—’
‘You’re strange,’ Bryant said.
‘I’m wh-what?’ Penn asked, stunned.
‘I don’t get you. I don’t understand you. You listen to nothing through headphones, you enjoy post-mortems, you can quote facts about serial killers at the drop of a hat. You have a brilliant mind that scares the shit out of me, and your social skills leave a lot to be desired. I don’t know how to relate to you.’
Had it not been for the gravity of the situation in which they currently found themselves, Penn would have laughed out loud.
‘You don’t like me cos I’m weird?’
Bryant’s eyebrows drew together. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like you. I said I couldn’t relate to you, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by broaching the—’
‘Hurt my feelings?’ Penn asked incredulously. ‘Do you wanna guess how many times I’ve been called weird? My school years were a blast, but you’re right and there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it. We have little in common, but the one thing we both share a passion for is work. How about we relate on that?’ Penn asked.
He saw the ghost of a smile touch the corner of the man’s lips.
‘Okay, Penn, that seems like a good place to start.’
Both men fell silent, fighting to control their own emotions as the hearse finally came to rest beside them.
There were no words left for either of them.
EIGHTY-ONE
Symes watched the scene at the graveside and allowed a sense of peace to steal over him.
He had known all those years he had waited and planned and plotted that it would be worth it. He’d always felt that he would actually know contentment once she was dead. And he did.
The added bonus was that he was still free.
When he’d escaped from prison, he’d been totally prepared to accept his fate once he’d killed her. Part of him had considered suicide by cop. Problem was he’d been enjoying himself. He’d forgotten just how sweet freedom was. As he’d seen the last breath leave her body, he’d realised he could have it all. He’d avoided the police for almost two weeks, and he’d continue to do so.
But first of all, he’d needed to see her coffin enter the ground. This was his cherry on the top of the cake. Once she was lowered into the dark earth, he would hotfoot it out of the nearest exit and disappear for good.