At that, all of Brody’s teenage bravado completely deserted him. “Mass murder? I didn’t kill anyone! I left before that happened! And I didn’t rape anyone!”

Sam grabbed him by the arms and headed for the door. “So you say.”

“Where are you taking him?” Mrs. Mitchell asked.

“Metro PD headquarters.”

“I’ll be right there, Brody,” his frantic mother called after him. “I’ll get you a lawyer, and we’ll get you out. Don’t say anything to them until your lawyer is there.”

“That’s extremely bad advice, ma’am,” Sam said.

“No, it isn’t.” Mrs. Mitchell’s tears had been replaced by rage. “I know how you people operate. He’ll say one wrong thing, and you’ll pin the whole thing on him. You’re not making my son into a murderer. Don’t say anything, Brody.”

“I won’t, Mom. Hurry up and get me some help.”

They hauled him out of the house and into Gonzo’s car.

“Since he’s lawyering up,” Sam said to Freddie, “let’s stay up here and get the family interviews we were assigned out of the way.”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got Brody,” Gonzo said. “I’ll get him processed and into a room until the lawyer shows up.”

“Run a check on the mother too,” Sam said, playing a hunch. “She was rather well informed on how we operate. Perhaps she’s had some personal experience.”

“Good thinking,” Gonzo said. “I’ll check her out.”

Turning to Hill and his agents, Sam said, “Thanks so much for your help with locating the IP. I feel better knowing those images are off the web.”

“They may crop up again later,” one of the other agents said. “We’ll keep a lookout for them.”

“I’d appreciate that.” She nodded to Freddie and they headed for her car, leaving his parked in front of the Mitchells’ house.

“Do you think my precious baby will be safe here?” he asked, with a look back at his car.

“If Mrs. Mitchell eggs it, it’ll only be an improvement.”

“Very funny.”

The banter helped to take their minds off the dreadful task that lay ahead.

“Do you have addresses for the two families?”

“Yeah. The Brantleys live pretty close to here.” He directed her to a stately colonial house on a quiet side street. Cars lined the road in front of the home.

Sam parked and stared at the house for a moment. “I hate this.”

“I do too. Let’s get it over with.”

They walked up the sidewalk to the front door of a white house with black shutters and knocked on the door. An older woman answered. Her face was swollen from crying.

Sam showed her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, to see Mr. or Mrs. Brantley.”

“They aren’t seeing anyone right now. Can you come back later?”