Shocked, Nick whispered, “Senator…”

“He never got over what happened. He resented John—maybe even hated him—for taking his place in a job he felt was his.”

“He wouldn’t have killed him over it.”

“I wish I could be so certain.” Graham looked up at Nick with shattered eyes. “If it was Terry… If he did this, it’ll kill Laine.”

Nick could only imagine what it would do to Graham.

“Um, excuse me,” Sam said from behind them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Nick wondered if she had heard them speculating about Terry.

“Can I get you anything, Senator? Would you like to sit for a minute? I could get you a stool—”

Graham’s expression hardened as he turned to Sam. “You can tell me you’ve found the person who did this to my son.”

“I wish I could,” she said. “I can tell you we’re working very hard on the case. If you want to come with me to the conference room, I can update you and your wife on what we have so far.”

The senator turned back to his son and stroked John’s hair. Tears pooled in Graham’s already-bloodshot eyes. “I love you, Johnny,” he whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to John’s forehead. Graham’s shoulders shook as he clutched the sheet covering John’s chest.

Nick had never seen such a raw display of grief. After a moment, he rested a hand on Graham’s shoulder. The older man remained hunched over his son until Nick gently guided him up.

“Oh God, Nick,” he sobbed, pressing his face to Nick’s chest. “What’re we going to do without him? What’ll we do?”

Nick wrapped his arms around Graham. “I don’t know, but we’re going to figure it out. We’re going to get through this.” He glanced up to find Sam watching them with an expression of exquisite discomfort. Embarrassed by his own tears, he returned his attention to the senator. “Why don’t we let Sergeant Holland fill us in on the investigation?”

Graham nodded and stepped out of Nick’s embrace. With a long last heartbroken look at John, Graham headed for the door.

Swiping at his face, Nick followed him.

Sam directed them to the conference room where Lizbeth and Royce sat on either side of a pale and drawn Laine. Someone had gotten her a glass of water and an ice pack for her head.

Graham went to his wife, reached for her hands and drew her up into his arms.

Nick couldn’t look. He simply couldn’t bear to witness their overwhelming agony. Turning from where he stood in the doorway, he stepped out of the room.

“I’ll…ah…give you a moment,” he heard Sam say as she followed him.

In the hallway, she joined Nick in resting her head against the cinderblock wall. “Are you all right?”