Brendan had a fair idea of where he was going; despite it being unfamiliar territory. He was quiet as he drove along, watching the road signs, and loosening his tie. He had been unsure of this little side-trip but the more he'd contemplated it, the more he felt he should make it.
He had no idea how Freya would react, none whatsoever. But whatever happened, he would have done the right thing. Because that's what this was…the right thing to do. She didn't talk much about her past and Michael had been less than forthcoming but when he'd run across this little detail he'd known what he had to do.
The area was pretty countryside, really. Rolling hills, open fields, small towns dotting the drive. Nice in a retire to the country and write a novel kind of way…in a let's see how long it takes the city-boy to get lost kind of way. He reached over and picked up his directions from the internet, double-checking that he hadn't missed the turn off. "Two point two miles. And then there's probably something on here about 'turning left at the old Miller farm'," he grumbled.
At last he found the road he was looking for, perhaps another fifteen or twenty minutes later—after having passed by it twice and circling around. It was a rough country road and Brendan realized his car's alignment was now perfectly shot. Not that it mattered much; after replacing two doors and two quarter panels thanks to a spread of bullet-holes, the car had seen its fair share of issues.
"Still can't wrap my mind around that," he muttered to himself; the fact that he was alive only because Freya had heard what the shooter was thinking… "Okay, that still freaks me out," he had to admit, even if it was just to himself. And right now, in this car, in the middle of freakin' nowhere, he was indeed by himself. "Yeah we make a pretty good team, and we've cracked a coupla cases…okay…she's cracked a couple of cases."
It was a little disconcerting sometimes to feel like he was just along for the ride.
The car ride was nearly over, he realized as he saw the gate up ahead, and he tapped the brakes, slowing down and turning into the winding drive. Parking the car, he set aside the printout directions. Getting out, he started up the small footpath and try as he might, knew he would never be able to mask his arrival. He would settle for some surprise at his ingenuity if not at his actual presence.
"I wondered if you'd figure it out," Freya commented before he was even all that close, and Brendan instinctively nodded.
"Well when you asked for a couple days off like that," he started. I was worried about you, he couldn't help but think and Freya looked up and smiled.
"That's sweet. Really," she said as her gaze fell to his hand. Brendan cleared his throat nervously.
"I didn't know if I should but…" he held out the bouquet of flowers. "It just felt like the right thing to do."
Freya took the flowers, and knelt down, laying them before the headstone. "Thank you," she said, and for the first time in a long time, meant it. She nodded. "Yes, I miss him, I miss him a lot."
"I'm sorry," Brendan said hesitantly, and he meant that, too.
"So am I," Freya stood up now, wrapping her arms around herself. "He died believing his daughter was nuts." She swallowed tightly. "I don't know if I'll ever…"
Brendan watched her, knowing she was tuned into him, knowing she was aware of what he was thinking. Finally, when she said nothing, he simply acted, stepping up and gathering her into his arms and letting her cry. Letting her finally mourn.
It was just the right thing to do.