“I wish we could, and I’m very sorry to intrude at such a difficult time,” Sam said. “But we’re investigating a homicide, and time isn’t on our side. We’d really like to speak to them.”

She hesitated before she stepped aside. “Come in.” A hushed silence hung over the interior of the house, which smelled of apples and cinnamon. They were shown to the living room. “Please have a seat. I’ll get them.”

Sam and Freddie sat next to each other on the sofa, which faced a wall of photos of what had apparently been their only child.

“God,” Freddie muttered as he took in the array of photos that spanned from youth through high school football.

When the Brantleys came into the room, Sam stood and introduced herself and Freddie. “We’re so sorry for your loss and for disturbing you at such a difficult time.”

“I’m Adam Brantley, and this is my wife, Sarah.” He was tall and imposing with gray hair and blue eyes. His wife was tiny next to him. Her dark curly hair was messy and unkempt, and her dark brown eyes unfocused.

When they were settled on opposing sofas, Sam noted the way Adam kept an arm firmly around his wife, as if he was actually holding her up rather than offering comfort.

“We’re trying to find out who else might’ve been at the Springer home on the night in question. If you could tell us about any other close friends of Todd’s, including girlfriends, it would be very helpful.”

“Most of Todd’s close friends were there,” Adam said flatly. “They’re all dead.”

Tears rolled down Sarah’s face, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Is there anyone who wasn’t there who might’ve had a beef with Todd or any of the other kids who were killed?”

“I’ve gone over it and over it in my mind,” Adam said. “I can’t think of anyone who didn’t like them, let alone hated them enough to kill them.”

“No one at all?” Sam asked. “No rivals from other high school teams or kids they might’ve grappled with at the movie theater or someone who was owed money? In my experience, when something like this happens among young people, the motive is almost never proportionate to the crime.”

Adam shook his head. “I haven’t been able to think of anything that would bring about this kind of result. I assume you’re talking to the other parents?”

“All of them. Yes.”

Adam fixated on a photo of his handsome son, who was smiling widely. “He was our whole world. We adopted him out of foster care when he was twelve. We’d been unable to have kids of our own, and when he came along, we knew he was meant for us.” He fixed his gaze on Sam. “We don’t know how to go on without him.”