A/N: Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Yes, my dear readers, we are. Finally (Please see closing notes at the end of the epilogue.)

CHAPTER 44

Hardy decided to leave Sandbrook on Tuesday. He left a message for Tess, letting her know he'd be staying at Duncan's for a while. All that was left for him to do was to gather some of his belongings from his house. It was Monday afternoon and nobody should be home.

Baxter pulled up in Hardy's driveway.

"And you're really okay with going in there by yourself?" Baxter asked, doubt lacing his words.

Hardy undid the buckle and carefully turned in the seat. The rib fractures were healing, but he was still sore. "I'll be fine, Ed. I only need a few things. And before you start – I won't do any heavy lifting," he sighed and unfolded his long legs out the door.

"Why don't you want me to come inside?" Baxter persisted.

"I'm not an invalid. I can take care of myself," Hardy insisted grouchily. He tried to hide the sudden bout of dizziness

Baxter snorted. "Yah, I can see that."

"Please Ed, don't make this harder than it has to be." Hardy avoided Baxter's scrutinizing eyes. "I don't want to run into Tess. I need you to watch out for me," he added weakly.

"I'm always watching out for you, Alec," Baxter replied softly and handed him the empty holdall they'd brought. "Holler if you need me. I've got my phone."

Hardy nodded and walked the few yards to the house he couldn't quite call home any longer. The distance seemed farther than it should have. He hesitated for a moment before he turned the key.

The door swung open and he stepped into the hallway. Despite everything having changed, everything in here was painfully the same. The smell, the light, the warmth. His shoes and coats were all where he'd left them. Even Daisy's book bag was there. Hardy stared at it blankly until it sank in.

Shitshitshit. Daisy was home. He wondered if he had enough time to leave without being noticed, but it was too late.

"Dad?" she called out before he could escape. She was standing on the stairs, anxiously peering down at him.

"Hello darlin'," he greeted her, his voice rough. He hadn't talked to her since he and Tess had sat down with her on Friday. His heart rate was up and his legs felt like jelly. He carefully put down the bag he was holding and braced himself against the wall, barely disguising his weakness. The lie about the accident was weighing heavily on him, but he hadn't had it in him to break her heart twice in one day.

"Why are you here?" she asked hoarsely. He followed her gaze which was fixed on the bag.

He looked up and their eyes locked. Rays of sun filtered in through the skylight behind her and cast a deep shadow over her face. It was impossible to tell if her tears were born from anger or sadness. He feared it was both.

"Daisy, I came to pick –"

She turned on her heels and stormed up the stairs to her room. The loud door slam made Hardy's aching body twitch. He gave her and himself a few minutes to calm down before he dared undertaking the daunting task of climbing up those steps he used to take two at a time. He had to pause twice, but he made it.

Resting his forehead on her door, he knocked gently. There was no answer. His clenched fist rapped the wood again.

"Daisy, open up," he pleaded. His knuckles were still touching the door. His other hand came up and he placed his palm flush against the smooth surface as if this could bring her closer.

"Go away. I don't wanna talk," she growled from inside. Hardy squeezed his eyes shut, his hanging head supported by the door.

"Please, darlin', let me in. Just give me five minutes," he begged. Daisy's fury hadn't lessened and he couldn't blame her. In his more energetic moments he shared the sentiment.

"No!" she yelled. "And don't you dare use that stupid ladder. I'm not going to open the bloody window."

She didn't need to tell him. He couldn't have. Not this time. She was beyond his abilities to reach her and it hurt. He would have given anything to be able to climb that ladder, but his broken heart wouldn't let him.

Hardy's eyes burned. He turned around, resting his back against the wooden barrier that guarded his daughter. His legs gave out under him and he slid down the door. It was too much to handle. If he had expected her to be home, he never would have come. The hallway was spinning and the tugging in his left arm demanded his attention. He dug through his pockets and produced the white chalky pills that were the only thing that stood between him and the end of the pain. It was tempting not to take them, but he couldn't do to Daisy what his mother had done to him. He gagged them down and waited for his heart to settle.

He must have dozed off because he startled when he fell backwards. Daisy had finally opened the door. Too addled, he tipped over and thudded hard onto the floor. A groan escaped his throat when a sharp stab in his side reminded him of how debilitated his body was.

He opened his eyes and blinked away the blurriness. Daisy was standing tall above him, her face framed by her long flowing hair and the soft light that filtered through the window. She stooped down and brushed his fringe out of his face.

"You look like shit, Dad," she remarked sternly and helped him to sit up.

"Language." It came out as a wheeze when she pulled too hard and the broken ribs protested. She huffed and left him to catch his breath, thumping down the stairs. By the time she returned, he had made it to his feet, climbing up his legs with his hands and pushing himself to stand. She dropped the holdall in front of him.

"What do you need?" she wanted to know.

He found her eyes. "To talk to you," he answered insecurely. She held his gaze until she suddenly lunged herself at him, tackling him with a tight embrace. He didn't have the strength to catch her and they both tumbled onto her bed. She never let go though. She curled up against him, sobbing into his side while he stroked her hair. His own tears burned his cheeks.

"I'm still here, darlin'. Not going anywhere." He choked on his words, a flutter in his chest naming him a liar. "It's going to be all right," he murmured over and over again, not knowing who he was consoling more, his daughter or himself.

Daisy's tears ebbed away together with her sobs. She disentangled herself from her father's embrace. He had fallen asleep, breathing heavily. Daisy took a closer look at him. He was so pale and haggard under his stubbly beard. There was a new scar on the right side of his neck that was exposed with his head lolled to the side.

She brushed it with her fingertips, restraining the anger that they hadn't told her he'd been in an accident until he came back from his trip to Portsmouth. They hadn't shared any details, but judging from her father's appearance it must have been pretty significant. He had lost more weight. She hated that they treated her like a child and kept secrets from her. Like that they had been planning on separating for some time now. At least that was what her mother had said while her father was sitting there, mute with his head hanging low.

Something buzzed and tickled her side. It was her father's phone. It stopped and then started up again. She fished it out of his coat pocket and peeked at the caller ID – Ed Baxter. After much probing, her mother had finally told her that her father was staying with the Baxters. When it rang a third time, she picked it up.

"Hi?" she piped timidly into the speaker.

"Who's this?" Baxter sounded confused.

"Daisy," she responded curtly.

"Daisy? What are you... never mind. Is your dad all right?" Daisy was surprised by the clear worry in Baxter's voice.

"Yeah," Daisy replied, but then reconsidered. She actually didn't know if he was okay. When she had opened her door he fell into her room like a dead weight and was moaning in pain. And she had easily toppled him over with her hug. Questioning what the hell was really going on, she added, "At least I think he's fine. He fell asleep. Why do you sound so freaked out?"

There was silence on the other end. Then she heard a knock at the door. "Daisy, could you let me in please?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You guys should think of a new line. The part about opening the door gets a bit old."

"Daisy, please. I need to check –" Baxter stopped abruptly. When he continued, his tone had changed, trying to hide the concerned urgency his words had carried. "I would like to speak with your dad."

Daisy frowned. Her eyes fell on the sleeping figure on her bed. She stepped closer, suddenly worried. His breathing had become more labored and his face was ashen. Gently, she shook his shoulder, but he didn't stir.

"I'm coming down. Don't leave," she shouted anxiously into the phone. She hurried to the door, tripping over the steps in her haste.

"Why is he not waking up?" she threw at Baxter as soon as she opened the door.

Baxter put his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. He bent down to meet her face to face. "Daisy, where is he?" he asked with a forced calmness that wasn't reflected in his steely eyes.

"In my bed upst –" He shoved his way past her and sprinted up the stairs before she could even finish. By the time she had caught up with him, he was hunched over her father with a hand resting on his neck.

"For fuck's sake," he cursed under his breath. He ran his other hand through his hair, muttering to himself.

"Mr. Baxter, what's wrong with Dad?" she demanded to know, her voice trembling.

Baxter spun around and stared at her. He took in a breath as if to say something but then didn't. His eyes darted back and forth between her and her father and Daisy wondered what was going on behind those grey eyes. It scared her to see him like that. To her, he was this man who would always tease her father and never lose his cool. But now he seemed so far away from that person and so worried about her father.

Baxter let go of her father and stepped up to her. "Daisy, sweetheart, your dad –"

"'M fine, Ed." Her father's Scottish growl had never sounded as pleasant as it did in that moment. Propping himself up on his elbow, he was slumped over on the bed. His shoulders were heaving with deep breaths, but his color was better.

"Dad!" she called out and hurled herself into his arms. She tried not to cry, but she was too riled up. Everything around her was falling apart. Her family was in shambles, her mother was too distracted to take notice of her needs, and her father had left her only to return resembling a ghostly shadow of himself. And nobody talked to her.

"'M fine, darlin'," he whispered into her ear, holding her tight.

"No, you're not," she argued, her voice muffled against his shirt. He even smelled differently. He gently pushed her away, far enough that he could look her in the eye.

"I'm a bit groggy from the pain medications they've been giving me. That's all. I'm sorry I scared you, darlin'," he said, smiling. There was no doubt in her mind that he had forced it. Baxter huffed and her father shot him a sharp glance.

"You're lying." She watched him falter. "You told me that you're not well and now you come home, looking like a dead man walking, and you expect me to believe this shit!" she spewed at his pale face that was clearly so much thinner than a week ago.

"Darlin', please, don't," he breathed, passing his hand over his tired eyes. Daisy didn't miss the tremble.

Baxter had come up behind her and clasped her shoulder. He turned her around and stooped down, so that she was taller than him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Daisy, listen to me. I know you're having a hard time right now. So is your dad. He's recovering from some serious injuries and he's exhausted from working that bloody case. Give him some time, all right?" Baxter said softly. He smiled and took her hand. "I promise you I'm taking care of him and you don't need to worry. I know he can't be trusted with himself, he's not leaving my sight."

Daisy stared into those grey-blue eyes, and to her relief they were filled with the sincerity she had been lacking from her parents. She nodded in acknowledgement. Turning to her father, she caught him crying his palms and long fingers barely hiding his tears. It broke her heart to see him like this. She didn't understand why he was leaving. Nothing that her parents had told her had made sense to her. She understood even less, why she had to stay behind, why she couldn't be with him. Anger was creeping up on her again and despite feeling utterly shaken by the sight of her broken father, a furrow etched itself onto her forehead.

Her father wiped clumsily at his cheeks. "'M sorry," he muttered under his ragged breaths. "I really am. I don't want this Daisy, but that's how it has to be for now. I'm not abandoning you, please believe me. I just can't be with your mother any more." A coughing spell left him panting.

"Why can't I come with you, Dad?" she pleaded. His head snapped up and Daisy was taken aback by the feral look in his eyes.

"Because I've got nowhere to go," he blurted out. He pinched his nose with his fingers, pressing his eyes shut. With a hollow voice, he added, "What I mean is, I don't have a place yet. I need to settle first, then we'll see." He dropped his hand weakly into his lap. Their gazes met. "Daisy, this is your home. You should be here and not trailing me in my spiral down to –" He cut himself off abruptly.

"It's not home if you're not here," Daisy stated quietly. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, pulling her into another hug. Snuggled against his chest, she listened to his slow and reassuring heartbeat. His kiss on the top of her head lingered longer than usual.

"I love you, darlin', always. Never forget that," he whispered in her ear when he finally let go and clambered to his feet. He put a hand on Baxter's shoulder, and Daisy was sure it was to steady himself. Baxter maneuvered him down the stairs and out the door while she watched her father leave empty-handed.

Her eyes fell on the holdall on the landing. She swooped down, snatched it up and sprinted after the two men. Her father was already in the car, slouched in the seat with his eyes closed.

"Wait," she hollered. Baxter cocked his head and frowned. She ran inside and dashed upstairs to her parents' bedroom. As quickly as she could, she put all his favorite clothes she could find in the bag. She thudded down the steps and into the living room. She grabbed their favorite movies and tossed them on top. She didn't know what else he would have wanted and she was halfway out the door when she remembered one thing. She hurried into her room and seized the purple unicorn.

By the time she dropped the holdall in front of Baxter, she was out of breath and her father was asleep. Daisy peered up at Baxter and stuck the toy in front of his face.

"Can you give this to Dad? Her name is Lotti, in case you don't remember. She's a girl and a unicorn. She's really good at keeping monsters away. She always helps me feel better, so maybe she can help Dad too? And when he feels better he can bring her back?" Big heavy drops were flowing down her cheeks and her voice was trembling. Baxter regarded the worn stuffed animal and all the steeliness was gone from his glittering eyes.

"Oh, Daisy, how could I ever forget," he said tenderly. He took the purple unicorn and carefully cradled it in his arm. Then he pulled her close and held her tight until her tears had dried. She reluctantly left his embrace and stepped away.

"You promise to take care of him?" she asked solemnly.

Baxter nodded. "I promise," he assured her equally sincere. He gave her one last look and got into the car.

Daisy stared at the street long after they were gone. Then she turned and slowly walked into the house she couldn't quite call home any longer.

Baxter placed Lotti on Hardy's nightstand. When Hardy walked in, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"She gave this to you?" he wondered, picking up the worn toy. He ran his fingers through the fluffy mane of the unicorn.

"She did. It's for you, to keep the monsters away. It comes with a string attached though."

Hardy frowned at him. "And what would that be?"

"You have to return it once you're better." Their eyes met.

He fell heavily onto the bed, clutching the purple animal to his chest. "Ed, can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Sure," Baxter invited him, puzzling over what was going on inside Hardy's head.

"Can you keep an eye on her? When I'm gone?"

"Alec, you're not going far. And you'll be back next –" Baxter fell silent when he noted Hardy's desperate expression. He was referring to a very different 'gone' than what Baxter had had in mind.

He sat down next to him, placing his hand on Hardy's shoulder. He clasped it tightly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"I promise I will take care of her."

Hardy took in a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears in his eyes.

"Thank you. It means a lot," he whispered hoarsely.

They sat together in silence until Louise called them for supper. Hardy gently tucked Lotti into the bag that Daisy had hastily scrambled together. He brushed over the fluffy toy. A smile danced over his face. Then he closed the zipper and it was gone. He hung his head and trudged out of the room.

Baxter lingered for a moment. He stared at the holdall, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. Then he wiped them away vigorously, inhaled deeply and stood.

When he left, he hissed at the bag, "You better do your job!" Then he hurried out of the room as quickly as he could, never to admit that he'd just threatened a stuffed purple unicorn. Bloody Alec Hardy.

Hardy woke in the dark with a sputter and a scream. He propped himself up on his elbows, catching his breath. The room was closing in on him. Light filtered in from under the door. He glanced at his phone. It was after two o'clock in the morning. No use in trying to go back to sleep. He was too unsettled. Slowly, he got up and padded out into the hallway.

He found Baxter working in his study, hunched over his computer.

"You're up late," he commented, peeking over Baxter's shoulder.

Baxter craned his neck to face him. "And you're up early."

Hardy squinted at the screen. "Why are you looking at this case? That was... what? Like two years ago?"

Baxter moved his hand over a sheet of paper, but it was too late. Hardy had already caught a glimpse. It was a list of case files, and from what he had seen, they had all been his investigations.

"What are you doing with those?" he queried in bewilderment. Baxter pulled the sheet away. He blushed and appeared uncomfortable. Suddenly, it all fell into place.

"You're looking into my record." Hardy's voice broke with the pitch shift. "I thought you trusted me!" he shouted, his temper flaring together with his heart rate.

"Alec, please calm down," Baxter urged him. "It's not what you think it is."

"Oh, so what is it then? You randomly start pulling the cases I was SIO on and you don't want me to get upset. What is this? A witch hunt?" He was panting and tightly gripping the back of Baxter's chair. The letters on the screen blurred.

"No, it's not a witch hunt," Baxter defended himself tiredly. He rubbed his eyes, stood up and pushed Hardy onto his seat. "Sit. I need to tell you something. I was going to wait until you return, but..." he trailed off and sucked in some air.

"Alec, we figured out how the press got their information."

Hardy looked up in surprise. "Who was it?"

"We don't know. What I said was we found out how," Baxter corrected him. Hardy was puzzled.

"You've been targeted." It was a simple statement, but Hardy didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

"Murphy and your friend Alistair Murray are quite the nerds. It paid off though. After the Carter case incident in Glasgow, they kept a track on files related to you. Apparently, they were not the only ones. A few days ago, someone accessed our database to snoop into the current investigation. We believe that must be how Karen White got her information," Baxter explained slowly.

Hardy's eyes widened. "And why do you have a list with all my cases for the past two years?" He didn't want to hear the answer.

"Because Murphy thinks that whoever is behind this has been following your files for at least that time frame." Baxter observed him worriedly. Hardy's throat closed off and he felt short of breath.

"Someone's stalking me? Why?" he wheezed. He fisted his hand in his jumper over his chest. Baxter asked him a question and he realized he hadn't heard him. He tried to focus.

Baxter was shaking him slightly. "Alec, where are your pills?"

"Nightstand," Hardy managed to get out. Baxter left and returned swiftly, pressing two tablets into his palm. Hardy curled his trembling fingers around them, but didn't put them in his mouth.

"Come on. Just take them."

Hardy shook his head slowly. He had had enough. He had been humiliated, hurt and harassed. His wife had thrown away fifteen years of marriage, he had hurt his daughter more than he could have ever imagined, his body was failing, and now this.

"I'm done," he murmured and uncurled his fist. The pills slipped through his limp fingers and bounced off the rug. He slumped over, giving in to the pain in his chest.

Cursing, Baxter caught his fall. He lowered him down onto the floor and scooped up the tablets.

"Alec, if you don't put those pills into your mouth right now and swallow them, I swear I will make you," Baxter yelled at him. Hardy pressed his lips shut. The sting of Baxter's slap loosened them up though, and Baxter used the opportunity to force the medication onto his tongue.

"Don't make me hold your mouth shut until you follow my orders," Baxter threatened sharply. He had put all his authority into his words. Decades of following commands took over, and Hardy gagged down the pills. Baxter held him until the attack subsided and his thoughts cleared.

"Don't you dare do this to me ever again," Baxter whispered in his ear, his voice trembling. There were tears in his eyes and Hardy realized that he'd never seen him cry before, besides that night Baxter had thought his child was dying.

Hardy scrambled to sit up. Baxter lent him a hand, and together they got him to his feet and back in his bed. They didn't speak. When Baxter was about to turn off the light at the door, Hardy finally found his voice.

"I can't do this, Ed. It's too much. I just want it to be over," he admitted in defeat.

"I understand. But I can't let you indulge in those feelings. My job is to protect you from yourself until you can do that without my help." Baxter's sincerity cut through Hardy's addled mind.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I'm such a burden. I –"

Baxter spun around and interrupted Hardy, "You're an idiot not a burden. So, stop saying that and let me take care of you."

Hardy nodded submissively.

"Good. And now – bedtime," Baxter announced sternly and turned off the light.

Hardy curled around his pillow, yet again alone in the dark. He stared into the night, his eyes stinging, until sleep came. He'd be leaving Sandbrook in the morning.

It was late when Hardy woke the next day. He barely had enough time to gather the few things he was bringing with him. Baxter insisted on taking him to the train station. Hardy had no doubt that he was going to mention what had transpired last night.

He eyed Baxter from the side while they were riding through the streets of the town he'd called home for almost a decade. Baxter was more tight-lipped than usual. The anticipation of having to talk about what he had done, or rather what he had not done, was grating on Hardy's nerves and he lost the battle.

"Ed, about what happened..." He cut himself off, hoping that Baxter would jump in. He didn't. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel harder and stared ahead at the road, ignoring Hardy's attempt at communication. That was new. Normally, the shoe was on the other foot. It made Hardy even antsier. He started fidgeting with the radio, flipping aimlessly from one station to the next, until Baxter placed a hand on his.

"Let it go, Alec," Baxter said softly. He had pulled into the parking lot and now turned his full attention to Hardy who glared at him with wide eyes.

"Fine," Hardy grumbled and withdrew his hand into his lap. Baxter's gaze rested on him, and Hardy wanted to hide from the kindness in it. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable, tearing down the defenses that he was so desperately trying to uphold.

"I'm not talking about the radio. I'm talking about the case and everything that's related to it." His voice was still soft. "You have to forgive yourself for whatever you think you have done."

"How could I? I couldn't save her. And now I can't even give her the justice she deserves," Hardy stammered, his walls crumbling rapidly. "I failed Pippa and her family. I failed Lisa and her mother."

Baxter smiled sadly. "I meant to tell you. Lisa's mother came up to me at the press conference. She was worried about you."

Hardy's mouth gaped open. "Why would she –" He faltered, utterly dumbfounded by the idea that Marilyn Newbery would care about him in this time of sorrow.

"She wanted me to tell you that it's all right. That it's time to take care of yourself now."

Hardy sat there, incredulous and shaken. One hand kneaded his thigh, the other cupped his mouth, and for a brief of moment he thought he smelled the foul river water on it. It was too much to bear. Marilyn Newbery's simple words moved him more than anything else he'd heard since his world had fallen apart. Weariness was threatening to overwhelm him and all he could think about was that he needed to fight and keep on going, even if he'd reached a breaking point. She, however, in her kindness had given him the permission to rest.

"She's right, Alec. You've done enough. You should listen to her and focus on healing," Baxter suggested gently, falling in line with what Marilyn had said.

Hardy remained silent, until he whispered, "I couldn't even find her." The desperation in his own voice was making him cringe.

"I know. And I understand how hard that is. But you won't do her or Pippa any good if you kill yourself over this. You need to stop. You need to think about your daughter and yourself for once and when you are better, then you can come back and put your energy into finding Lisa's body or what happened to her. You need to let go," Baxter implored his friend.

Hardy stared at his hands, palms up and fingers trembling. He could feel the pull of that unmeasurable weight that was dragging him down into the river relentlessly.

"They trusted me with the task to find whoever did this to their children. I violated that trust, Ed. I disrespected the privilege that has been given to me and I failed my duty as a police officer. I couldn't do my job right and see what we are left with." His feral eyes came up and bore into Baxter. "Ashworth has a good chance of walking away as a free man because I wasn't there to make sure everything was done properly. If I hadn't been so stubborn about hiding my condition, Tess would have never been there. It would have been you and –"

Baxter gripped his arm hard. "Stop it!" he ordered sternly. "You are not responsible for what she did." His anger was apparent. "You're not the one who failed their duty as a police officer. She did. She is the one who broke their trust." He paused briefly. Then he added full of sorrow, "She broke your trust."

"How can I ever come back from this?" Hardy's voice broke. The river held him in its claws and he saw no way out. The dark water tugged him along and he was so lost.

Baxter's fingers tightened their hold. It hurt, but it was also a reminder that he wasn't alone. That there was something he could hold onto. Hardy clung to them as hard as he could, dragging himself out of the torrent that was threatening to wash him away with it. He forced himself to look at his friend's worried face.

"I feel so alone," he breathed.

Baxter's expression softened. "Oh, Alec. I know. But you're not. All you have to do is let us in."

Hardy closed his eyes and nodded. He wanted to, but it was the hardest thing to do, especially after the one person he'd let in more than anyone had trampled all over that trust. He didn't know if he could ever expose himself so completely and wholeheartedly again.

He took in a few deep breaths and opened his eyes. Maybe there'd be a day he could, but not today. Today, all he could do was to take a step that was going to lead him away from the riverbank and its gushing stream.

Baxter released him. "We have to go. It is time, Alec."

"Aye, it is," Hardy said gravely. Baxter shot him a quizzical glance. He'd referred to the train's departure, but his ears had perked up at Hardy's solemn tone.

"You all right?"

"'M fine," he replied, repeating the words that had become second nature to him.

Hardy climbed out of the car and closed the door. He caught his reflection in the window. His windswept hair was falling into his face. Brushing the fringe out of his eyes, he looked at the man in the mirror that he barely recognized. His cheeks were bare and naked, exposing his gaunt features to the world. It made him feel vulnerable, his weariness so out in the open. He had put on a shirt but no tie. In a way he wished he had, desperately holding on to the way things used to be. But he had changed, and no piece of clothing or slicked back hair could ever bring back what he'd lost.

He let his auburn bangs fall over his forehead and tugged his black coat tighter around him. Then he turned and slowly followed Baxter toward the train station's entrance. Not many words were exchanged. Baxter hugged him firmly.

"Goodbye, Alec. Text me when you get to Duncan's, will you?" There was a quiver in Baxter's voice.

"I will." Hardy shuffled his feet and hid his hands in his pockets. He faced Baxter, but dropped his gaze quickly to conceal the moisture in his eyes. "Thanks for everything. I couldn't have done it without your help. Goodbye, Ed." Before Baxter could say anything, he spun on his heels and stumbled onto the train. He found a spot and fell heavily onto the seat.

The train pulled out of the station. Right at the edge of Sandbrook, it crossed a bridge and left the river behind.

Hardy didn't.

FIN