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soldier. He still kept his hair buzzed close to the sides of his head and his face, though craggy, was clean shaven.
    The winter sun shined warmly on them as the priest gave the final prayers. When the funeral was over, Sam waved goodbye to Judie and Wilson and began to walk with Todd to her car. She glanced quickly over her shoulder and saw that Brady had stayed at Robin’s grave. Wyatt and Jonathan followed Sam and Todd from behind. The men had worked together for years and knew each other well. They were talking low enough that Sam could not hear them.
    When they reached her car, Wyatt put his hand lightly on Sam’s shoulder.
    “Sorry about your sister, Sam. Jonathan’s told me lots about you both. It sounds like you were very close.”
    Sam tried to manage a smile, but found it difficult. “Yes, we were.”
    “I understand Robin was drinking and that may have been why she fell,” Wyatt said.
    His comment sent an immediate surge of anger through her and the desperate message on her answering machine from Robin flickered into her consciousness. She was on to something and someone was after her. “That’s not true,” Sam said firmly.
    Wyatt looked from Jonathan to Sam and said, “We understand how you feel. The cause of death hasn’t been determined yet, but when we know, you’ll be the first to hear, Sam. We have people working on it.”
    She nodded as if that was expected of her, but Wyatt’s words brought little comfort. She had been watching Brady from the corner of her eye and the moment she dreaded had arrived. Sam felt familiar stirrings begin to move in her chest and her stomach felt thick with knots as Brady started in their direction. When he reached them, he acknowledged Todd and Jonathan, then his father, but did not look at Sam.
    “Dad, I’m ready to go to the car,” Brady said, still looking at Wyatt.
    Sam kept her attention fixed on Brady. He looked calm and unimposing, a pear-shaped, soft-spoken man, with a beleaguered way of laying his head to one side. Sam thought Brady always looked as if he was perpetually on the brink of a sigh.
    Before Wyatt could answer Sam said, “Brady, I’m sorry I haven’t called, but it’s been so hectic and I’ve been ...”
    Before she could finish her sentence, Brady pounced on her with an assault of words. “No!” he shouted. “You’re not sorry! You’re not! It’s all your fault Robin’s dead! It’s all your fault! Robin’s dead and I hate you! I hate you! I wish you were dead. You …” he pointed at the open grave, “should be down there, not Robin! It’s all your fault. You’re nothin’ but a drunk and you couldn’t help her even if you tried!”
    Brady’s ears were glowing red and his cheeks were flushed with fury. Before he could say another word, his father intervened. “Brady! That’s enough! Go to the car!”
    Brady ignored his father’s command and continued his verbal barrage. Sam stood mutely, biting her bottom lip. Jonathan and Todd watched Brady in surprised silence, experiencing a side of him that they had never known. “And you weren’t going to call me! You weren’t! You’re a liar!” Brady shouted. Those who remained after the services had now turned and were watching Brady’s outburst with growing interest. He suddenly grew quiet. “Robin needed you,” he whimpered softly and his eyes were glassy with tears. “Robin needed you. She … she needed you.”
    His words reached Sam’s soul, finding places that yawned deep and wide, where few people, including her, had ever visited. His words found a place, dropped anchor and settled. She felt as fragile as thin ice. She could hardly hold herself up as she watched Brady storm toward the Caprice. Todd, Jonathan and Wyatt were speechless and watched helplessly with Sam as Brady reached the car, opened the door and fell inside. He slammed the door so hard the car shook.
    “I’m sorry, Sam,” Wyatt said. “He’s upset about Robin.”
    “Don’t worry about it,”