“Both,” I said. “Definitely both.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled. “James would have liked you. Both of you. He always had soft spot for stubborn people who didn't know when to quit.”
“He trained me to be stubborn,” I said quietly. “Taught me that good investigation meant following evidence even when it led somewhere dangerous. That truth mattered more than career. That some fights were worth having even if you lostthem.” My throat tightened. “I didn't save him. Couldn't prevent what Harrow did. But I'm trying to make it mean something. Trying to make sure his death wasn't just another buried truth.”
Sarah's expression softened. “He'd be proud of you. Frustrated that you're still doing this alone. Worried that you're going to get yourself killed. But proud.”
“I'm not alone anymore.” I glanced at Dom. “That's new. Still getting used to it.”
“Good. James always said the lone wolf thing was bullshit. That even the best investigators needed backup.” She touched the headstone gently. “I hope you get him, Cal. Hope you destroy Harrow so thoroughly there's nothing left but truth. James deserves that. Your sister deserves that. All the people they've buried deserve that.”
“We're trying,” Dom said.
We stood there a while longer. Not talking. Just being present with the grief and the rage and the particular exhaustion that came from fighting systems designed to protect corruption.
When we finally left, Sarah stayed. Still touching the headstone. Still talking to her husband in the quiet darkness.
In the car, Dom and I sat in silence for a long moment.
“How are you?” he asked finally.
“Terrified. Exhausted. Furious that Pemberton is sitting in judgment over his own crimes and we can't stop it.” I leaned my head back. “But also determined. Because Sarah's right. This has to mean something. All of it. The deaths. The investigation. The price we've paid. It has to matter.”
“It will.” Dom started the engine. “Even if it doesn't go our way. Even if Pemberton controls this outcome. We'll find another way. We'll keep fighting until truth wins or we run out of fight.”
“That could take years.”
“Then we take years.” He looked at me.
We drove back through London. Past the courthouse where tomorrow a verdict would be delivered. Past Ravenswood where Adrian was probably already strategising contingencies. Past all the places this investigation had taken us.
