“He could’ve been thrown clear,” she said. “Did you check the bush—?”
“Sadie, we found blood from two victims.”
“Two?” She sat up, wincing from the pain. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless there were two kids in the car.”
“But I only saw Sam.”
“The other could’ve been in the back seat or…”
“Or the trunk,” she finished for him.
The detective nodded grimly.
“The blood—are you sure it’s Sam’s?” she asked, fearful.
“It matched the DNA from the toothbrush you gave us.”
A tear leaked from one eye. “And what about other evidence?”
“We found detonator fragments. Military issue.”
“That’s good, right?” she wept. “Makes it easier to find him?”
“Unfortunately, nowadays, people could find one on the internet, if they looked hard enough.
She hitched in a breath. “I have to make arrangements. To bury Sam.”
“Sadie, I, uh…”
“What?”
His face drooped. “There’s nothing to bury.”
She eyed him blankly.
“There’s nothing left of him,” he said softly. “There were two bombs. They disintegrated almost everything. It’s going to take weeks for forensics to sift through the remains. And even then, they’re so tiny…”
She shuddered. “Little bloody pieces.”
“Huh?”
“Something The Fog said to me.” She turned away, drained. “What about the balloon?”
“We found it in a tree, a few yards from the scene. It’s been sent to trace. If we’re lucky, we’ll pull a print or DNA from saliva.”
Sadie studied the ceiling for a moment and found herself reliving the explosion, the fiery inferno of the car, the smell of burning flesh… the screams. Her screams.
She wiped her eyes. “If only I hadn’t moved.”
“You didn’t know about the tripwire.”
“But I should have called you, waited—”
Jay reached for her hand. “We’ll get him, Sadie.”
She looked into his eyes, comforted by the steely promise of justice. She didn’t doubt the man. He would hunt down The Fog… or die trying. She hoped to God it wasn’t the latter. She’d grown fond of the old man.
“Thanks, Jay,” she whispered.
His face crinkled with concern. “I heard Philip is… uh…”
“In an eight by twelve foot cell,” she said wryly.
Bridget had been true to her word, although apologetic about the rotten timing. Philip had been formally arrested that morning.
“He pled guilty,” Sadie told Jay. “But his lawyer thinks he’ll get a reduced sentence.”
Jay nodded. “Because they found the money.”
“Every penny of it. Philip was depending on it for his retirement plan.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he planned on retiring in prison though.”
“You’re lucky, Sadie.”
Her mouth dropped. “Lucky? How can you say that?”
Jay shifted uncomfortably. “What I mean is, they could’ve taken your house, your vehicles, frozen your bank accounts.”
“Those things mean nothing,” she said in a dead tone. “They could have it all if it meant I’d have Sam back.”
There was an awkward moment of silence.
“They letting you out soon?” Jay asked eventually.
“Just before supper.”
“You need someone to come get you?”
She shook her head. “My friend will be here.”
Jay moved to the door. “If you need anything let me know.”
She listened to the detective’s footsteps echo down the hall. Then she eased herself from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Waves of nausea wracked her aching body and she collapsed in front of the toilet. Resting her burning forehead on her arms, she pictured Sam bound and gagged in the car.
“There’s nothing left of him,” Jay had said.
Then why does it feel like Sam’s still with me?
She threw up. Moaning softly, she yearned to crawl into the toilet, to be flushed out with the soiled water. A nurse found her with her forehead resting on the toilet seat and helped her back to bed.
Later that afternoon, Sadie checked out of the hospital. Leah was waiting in the lobby to take her back to the house. The drive home was as endless as the pouring rain and dull gray sky, which matched her dismal mood. She said very little to Leah. There was too much on her mind.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, unlocking the front door.
Leah’s eyes filled with concern. “Want me to stay with you tonight?”
“No.” She stepped inside the house and began to close the door, but Leah’s arm shot out.
“Sadie, don’t push me away. I want to help—”
“There’s nothing you can do. I just want to be alone.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks though.” She closed the door and leaned against it. “There’s nothing anyone can do to help me.”
She drifted from one room to another, calmed by the anti-depressants the hospital had given her and by the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows. Every time she passed in front of the door to Sam’s room, she’d pause and rest a hand against it. But she could never quite bring herself to open it. Eventually, she’d have to pack away his toys, his clothes… his life.
Not yet. Later. When I’m ready.
They decided to have a service, complete with burial.
“For closure,” Philip had said when she visited him in jail.
At first Sadie had been hesitant. A funeral would make Sam’s death more real. And she didn’t want it to be real. Then there was the matter of a coffin. Philip had argued that they could just bury a plywood box, something symbolic.
“A box.” She gaped at him as if he had lost his mind. “Sam deserves more than a cheap wooden box.”
She ventured out alone and bought a child-sized coffin.
The morning of Sam’s funeral was appropriately dreary and filled with a flurry of well-meaning but unwanted visitors who dropped off indistinguishable casseroles and obligatory fruit baskets. By lunchtime, Sadie had run out of counter space and there was no room in the fridge.
Then there was the family to deal with. Philip’s brother, sister and father had bused in from Seattle, while her parents, looking tanned and healthy, had flown up from Yuma. Her brother had shipped out to Afghanistan the week before, leaving her sister-in-law Theresa with the kids.
“Damn, Sadie,” Theresa said on the phone. “I’d give anything to be there. I know Brad would too. I-I’m so sorry. I’m going to miss Sammy so much. His sweet little face, his laugh, his—”
Sadie hung up on her.
She felt a flicker of remorse. She hadn’t meant to be rude, but hearing Theresa talk about missing Sam made her clench her hands into fists. This is my loss, she wanted to shout. Not yours!
Philip called at lunchtime. “How are you holding up?”
“How do you think?” she said, trying to keep the resentment from her voice.
“A wreath is being delivered to the cemetery at two-thirty.”
“You should be here for this, Philip.”
“I tried, but they won’t let me out. It’s not fair.”
“Sam is dead,” she snapped. “How fair is that?”
There was an empty pause. Then she heard him clear his throat. “Say goodbye to my boy for me, Sadie.”
“I can’t even say goodbye to him for me,” she said bleakly.
Two hours later, she allowed her father to tuck her into the backseat of the Mazda and they headed for the cemetery, her mother beside her, sniffling into a tissue. Chuck, her father-in-law, drove Philip’s brother and sister in the Mercedes.
The service was painful yet brief. Other than family, Leah, Liz, Jean, Bridget and Jay attended. Matthew Bornyk sent his condolences, even though Sadie hadn’t thought to invite him. And why should she? His daughter might still be alive.