Trisha hung up the phone and turned to Brad. Her parents were catching the next flight out. They'd heard the news about Andrew's death from Wayne, but the instant her mother heard Trisha's voice, she'd insisted on coming home.
Nick walked into her office and, after filling him in on what they'd found online, or lack of something, Brad and Trisha joined her men in the dining room. A scattering of twelve pizza boxes laid untouched on the table, with a group of somber faces all looking to her for answers about Andrew. Nick stood next to her, a quiet beacon of support. She nodded for Brad to sit before speaking.
"The funeral is tomorrow." She rubbed her tired eyes. "I expect all of you there. The McArthurs are having an understandably hard time with this. Nancy, if you wouldn't mind, could you bake something to take over there?"
Nancy swiped a fresh bout of tears away with a balled tissue. "Of course."