CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘I’m sorry.’ Illuminated by the moon, Sam buried her head in her hands. Hunched forward she was dwarfed by the four-wheel drive and its paraphernalia.
If she were one of the boys, Franklin would give her a hearty slap on the back; they’d c***k some black humour, down a few coldies after shift and everything would be fine in the world.
Because she was a she, he grappled with the right response. As a dad, he wanted to hug her. As a fellow cop, he wanted to say, The first is the most memorable, but it isn’t likely to be your worst or last, so hang in there.
The complication of her apparent crush made him sit impotently.
After a minute of fingernail-scratching silence, he managed, ‘What are you sorry for? This was your first death in the job, yes?’
She nodded, still cl
