“We don’t know what he’d want; he’s not here.”
The rest of the car ride goes by in a suffocating silence, and when we reach the cemetery Davey’s grandmother chose, the Green-Wood Cemetery, we pile out of the car. I can finally draw a breath as I slide my gloves on.
53 stands by the curb, polished to a shine. My hands still ache from the hours I spent on her yesterday. 43, her comrade in arms right now, by her side.
White seats stand in two groups, a wide aisle between them. Firefighters from across the city fill the grassed area. The old weeping trees of the cemetery are dotted throughout the rows upon rows of headstones.
The place is depressing.
The day’s milky sunlight stretches through the trees, and I walk behind Owens as she navigates the uniforms to find our crew.
Sandy meets us by a group of civilians who are sobbing, some consoling others. And I spot two women, one old and frail and one around my age hugging her close to her side.
They must be Davey’s grandma and his girlfriend.
Oh fuck.
My chest caves before the weight over it ratchets to a crushing sensation.
I can’t do this.
I spin back, running straight into the captain.
“Tennison, how are you holding up?”
I stare at the old tree mere feet away, waiting for the burn in my throat to fade. “Fine, sir.” The words are barely audible.
“You’re flanking right. Hammond behind you. Sandy, Owens, take the other side.”
What is he talking about?
When everyone moves, Hammond taking up my spot at the front of the casket, weakness flushes through me.
“Tennison,” Sandy calls, glancing to Owens, who shakes her head. “One last call for our guy, okay?”
I can’t see.
I can’t breathe.
The cemetery around me blurs with the onslaught of tears that spills over.
A hand touches my arm. “Are you London?” a weak, wobbly voice says.
I turn back to find Davey’s girlfriend.
God, I wish I could remember her damn name.
“Yeah.”
Her face breaks as she breathes through a sob. “He adored you, you know. He always used to joke that he wanted to grow up to be like Tenny when he graduated. No matter how many times I reminded him you guys were literallybothprobies. Thank you for making his year—well, nine months—good ones.”
I stare at her, my reaction so slow she squeezes my arm and walks back to Davey’s grandmother.
I open my mouth to tell her how incredible Davey was, but silence is the only thing I can manage.
“It’s time, Tennison,” Captain says from behind.
Hauling in a deep lungful, I turn and take up my place at the back opposite Heidi, my white-gloved hand curling around the chrome handle of the casket.
