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“I went to Whitecloud today, Jarod.”
“Was it your first time since . . . ?”
“Yes. Since my brother died. I saw that you’d been there.”
“I . . . didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want the Centre finding his . . . his body.”
“Shhh. It’s alright Jarod. Don’t apologize. He would have loved it here.”
“I just hope that. . .”
“I hope so too, Jarod; that our brothers have found peace. Together.”
The line went dead.
Outside, twin crosses stood side by side, surrounded by flowers, both bearing the same epitaph: “A Brother Missed.”