Too.  Much. Information.

Inside Sam's head was a maelstrom of emotions as his brain tried to compute the words the officer said into something meaningful he could process.  She suffered.  Precious, beautiful Brooklyn suffered and Sam had driven past her as she lay dying in a ditch.  He could have saved her.  If he had walked the distance to Ella's he would have found her.  If had driven slower he would have found her.  If he had thought the obvious, he would have found her.

Sam tried, he really tried but as he listened to the report he couldn't shake the thought that he could have saved his angel.  She lay there, bloodied, battered, bludgeoned by the cruel metal of her vehicle and there she waited.  Waited for help.  Waited for Sam.

Sam sat on the sofa and put his head between his knees.  He felt the arm of someone attempting to comfort him as the horror of what happened registered within his conscious.

He looked up at the officer, his eyes ringed red with lack of sleep and intermittent tears, "You're telling me that someone else did this?"

Sam stood as the realisation hit him, "you're telling me that someone hit her?  Didn't stop?  Didn't call you guys?  THE FUCKER DIDN'T STOP?" he cried.  Sam paced the room, delirious with the news.  "You find him.  You find the person who did this.  You find him before me because I will kill him.  I will put my hands around his throat and I will squeeze the life out of him."

Sam walked to the door to leave the room.  He couldn't deal with this right now.  As his hand touched the handle he turned around and walked to the officer.

"You will find the person who did this.  You will find them," Sam said wanting desperately to prod him in the chest.  "I want to see the monster who did this and bring him to justice.  For Brooklyn."

Sam had a wide-eyed look.  The overwhelming feeling right now was one of self-loathing with a side dish of revenge.