Three hours. Three hours the police went over his story. Sam co-operated throughout although he was barely there. They talked about Brooklyn as though she wasn't there, as though she was gone. That wasn't true, he waved goodbye to her just yesterday evening. His eyeballs rolled as he closed his eyes. He remembered how she smelt, his nostrils flared imperceptibly at the scent of her perfume with it's hints of cucumber, reminding him of cut grass with a floral headiness. He couldn't remember the scent, it was Brooklyn. When she left the house she smelt clean, he could smell the coconut soap she used, the way her hair smelt. It was pronounced because most of the time they both, and their house smelt like soiled diapers, baby sick and medicated cream. Baby formula sick - there was nothing like it... "Mr. Hanson, [I]Sir![/]" The voice broke Sam's reverie and he remembered where he was. Back in the interview room going over again and again about his and Brooklyn's last moments. A tired Chad, from time to time pointed out to the officer interviewing them that the information had previously been provided freely and that this constituted harassment. At the time Sam just answered when he was aware. All he could think of was turning his head and looking down the aisle to see his angel dressed in white. Seeing her sparkling eyes and beautiful smile. 'I do' and a sweet lingering kiss then dancing together wrapped in their own world as friends and family look on. A tottering Louis joining Mom and Dad on the dance floor as they laugh and welcome the little man in. He placed his head in his hands and wailed as he recalled that image of his beautiful fiancée laid on that cold metal slab. The white dress he wished he had never seen her in... "One more time. From the time Miss. Jones left your house to the time you first contacted us. Did you leave the house?" "No." whimpered Sam "Was it normal for Brooklyn to leave it so long without contacting you?" "No. It wasn't." "So you left it late before contacting the police?" "What the fuck!" raged Sam, the tiredness kicking in and suddenly becoming animated. Chad's hand firmly gripped Sam's arm to keep him in his chair. "It was you who told me not to worry when I called. It was you who said she'll turn up. You wouldn't even go out and fucking look for her whilst she was dead. Dead in a fucking ditch." Sam sat again and began to sob. "She's dead..." he said as he wailed. The cop interviewing stood and paced around the room. It had been a truly awful day for him too. Although the crash was probably an accident it was part of the job to interview those hurt most. He'd heard of killer's caught in those first few hours following a death because they couldn't cope with the stress of the interview, the horror of what they had done. It was a horrible fact that murders were committed usually by a known friend or family member. They had to ascertain whether he knew anything. Still, he was at his front door this morning and he had gone through the process with Sam a few times now. This boy knew nothing and was no killer. It broke his heart to have to go through this. It was still early afternoon when Sam was released from the station although time had ceased to seem relevant. He walked out, lost and bewildered. "I'll drive you home," said Chad softly as he opened the door for Sam. Sam turned and looked at the lawyer who'd just given him so much. "Ella? Why didn't she call? Why didn't she check? Why didn't she call me? We could have found her, we could have saved her. She was laid in that cold, all alone and none of the people who loved her were there for her. Why didn't she call!" Sam was desperate. Brooklyn could have been saved if just one of them had phoned or texted. At that moment he felt he could never forgive himself or Ella for not checking that poor Brooklyn wasn't safe. "Take me there." "What?" replied Chad incredulously. "Take me there. Where she died. I have to see the place." "No, that's really not a good idea Sam. Leave it be for now Sam. You need some rest my friend," replied Chad sympathetically. "Take me there. I have to see. I have to be where she was. I have to go." ------------------------------------------------------ Half an hour later a young man was on his knees by the side of the road. The slush of the previous day's snow soaking his legs. He was staring ahead at a splintered tree down hill. All sharp exposed edges, warped and jagged. The area was wrapped in police tape like some kind of twisted Christmas gift. There was no sign of the vehicle that was here overnight having been removed for further investigation. Sam fell, prostrated into the snow lost for answers to questions he couldn't even formulate.