"I've never broken into a cemetery before." Morgan laughed as they climbed over the wall.
Reid walked quietly across the grass and down the dirt path. After several minutes, he stopped in front of a pair of grave markers.
In the moonlight, Morgan could read the names on the stones.
"Catherine Darcy Reid. Beloved Mother. 1960-1997." Morgan quickly did the math in his head. "You were --"
"Sixteen." Reid nodded, gently pulling up the weeds that had grown around the markers.
"How?"
"Cancer. By the time they found it, it was too late. She died eight months later."
Morgan looked at the second grave stone. "James Spencer Reid. Devoted husband and father. 1959-1995." As Reid pulled away a handful of weeds, he saw another line. "To protect and serve."
"He was Pritchard's fourth victim," Reid said solemnly. "The shot was at near point blank range. He held on long enough for us to get there. To say good-bye."
Reid continued pulling at the weeds and grass until a small patch of bare earth was uncovered. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small notebook. Morgan could see bits of newsprint sticking out from between the pages. A record, he guessed, of every event from that night until now. Reid pulled out the letter and tucked it into the back of the notebook.
He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and put the flame against the pages. The paper, much of it old and dry, lit quickly.
Reid stood, watching the pages curl and blacken in the flames. "It's over, Daddy. It's finally over.."