Rain drizzled onto my windshield from the gray sky above. Turning down onto the all familiar street, I couldn't help but think of the last time I was here. I shudder slightly as the memories flood my mind. Kathy looks at me and I'm touched by the concerned look brimming in her eyes. She squeezes my hand gently as the years break free and fall. I smile weakly, silently thanking her for all the love and support she's given me over the years spanning our life together.
I glance in the rearview mirror to see those sitting behind. Silently I give thanks to God for each and everyone of my children. I can imagine, nor do I wish to, to find out suddenly that you've outlived your child. But his parents do, unfortunately they know. I know I'm being selfish, but in my line of work I am all to often the harbinger of bad news. The only difference here is, this time I was on the receiving end.
We'd been working non-stop for the last seven days straight to catch a serial rape-murderer with the appetite for eight year old boys. Kathy and the kids had left a 'care package' with the Olivia, that I was grateful included several clean shirts. Coming back down from the upstairs bunkhouse, I was greeted by a puffy, red-eyed partner and two very pale faced colleagues. At first I'd thought that something had happened to my family, to Kathy and the kids. I was wrong, I was so wrong.
Olivia looked at me with tears streaming down her face and said, "he's dead." All I could do was stare numbly at her and think 'she couldn't possibly mean..........?"