When we followed we found her collapsed on the middle of the couch in an almost catatonic state, not too dissimilar from my own. The tears were just starting to come to her eyes. Wexler sat next to her on the couch. Big Dog and I stood by, silent as cowards.

"Is he dead?" she asked, knowing the answer but realizing she had to get it over with.

Wexler nodded.

"How?"

Wexler looked down and hesitated a moment. He looked over at me and then back at Riley.

"He did it himself, Riley. I'm sorry."

She didn't believe it, just as I hadn't. But Wexler had a way of telling the story and after a while she stopped protesting.

That was when she looked at me for the first time, tears rolling. Her face had an imploring look, as if she were asking me if we were sharing the same nightmare and couldn't I do something about it. Couldn't I wake her up? Couldn't I tell these two characters from a black and white how wrong they were? I went to the couch, sat next to her and hugged her. That's what I was there for. I'd seen this scene often enough to know what I was supposed to do.

"I'll stay," I whispered. "As long as you like."

She didn't answer. She turned from my arms to Wexler.

"Where did it happen?"

"Estes Park. By the lake."

"No, he wouldn't go-what was he doing up there?"

"He got a call. Somebody said they might have some information about one of his cases. He was going up to meet them for coffee at the Stanley. Then after he ... drove out to the lake. We don't know why he went there. He was found in his car by a ranger who heard the shot."

"What case?" I asked.

"Look, Jack, I don't want to get int"

"What case?" I yelled, this time not caring about the inflection of my voice. "It was Lofton, wasn't it?"

Wexler gave one short nod and St. Louis walked away shaking his head.

"Who was he meeting?"

"That's it, Jack. We're not going to get into that with you. "

"I'm his brother. This is his wife."

"It's all under investigation but if you're looking for doubts, there aren't any. We were up there. He killed himself. He used his own gun, he left a note and we got GSR on his hands. I wish he didn't do it. But he did."

During the winter in Colorado the earth comes out in frozen chunks. When they dig through the frost line with the backhoe to open up a grave. My brother was buried in Green Mountain Memorial Park in Boulder, a spot not more than a mile from the house where we grew up. As kids we were driven by the cemetery on our way to summer camp hikes in Chautauqua Park. I don't think we ever once looked at the stones as we passed and thought of the confines of the cemetery as our own final destination, but now that was what it was to be for Sean.