“Apparently, they didn’t. He was supposed to be at the home of one of his friends.” Carlucci consulted her notes. “Michael Chastain. Based on the description of Chastain that we were given by the Springers, we believe that’s him there.” She pointed to a blond boy who’d suffered multiple stab wounds to the chest and neck. It appeared that a dark-haired girl had been performing fellatio on him when they were killed.

The senselessness of it all weighed on Freddie, as it often did. Adult homicides were hard enough to handle, but when kids were involved, it became that much more excruciating.

Dr. McNamara arrived a couple of minutes later with her top deputy, Dr. Byron Tomlinson. As Lindsey took in the gruesome scene her green eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God.”

“Holy shit,” Tomlinson added.

While Carlucci and Dominguez brought the MEs up to speed, Gonzo pulled Freddie aside. “I’m thinking the sitch with the LT’s niece has to be related.”

“You read my mind.”

“You don’t think her niece went crazy with a knife, do you?”

“I don’t know Brooke all that well,” Freddie said, “but I’d be shocked to think she was capable of such a thing.”

“If she was hopped up on drugs, anything is possible.” Gonzo glanced at Freddie. “We’d be crossing all kinds of lines if we keep quiet about the possible connection.”

“I know, but that’s what we’re going to do, right?”

“For as long as we can. If they turn up evidence that she was here, it’s out of our hands.”

The implications for Sam and her family weren’t lost on Freddie and weighed heavily on him as he went through the motions of working the crime scene.

* * *

While they waited for more news from the doctors overseeing Brooke’s care, Sam sat with Tracy, who continued to sob uncontrollably.

“I knew something like this was going to happen,” Tracy said. “This is why I sent her away. I just don’t understand what she’s doing here.”

“That’s the first thing I’m going to find out,” Sam said. “What’s the name of the headmaster at the school?”

“Gideon Young. He’s been so nice to us and so accommodating with weekly reports on how she’s doing.”

“Do you have the main number for the school?”

Tracy retrieved her phone from her coat pocket and found the number.

Sam wrote it down. “I’ll call there shortly. I also need to know the names of her friends here in DC. We talked once about a girl you didn’t like. I can’t remember her name.”

“Hoda,” Tracy said disdainfully. “I don’t know her last name. According to Brooke, she’s just Hoda, like Pink or Cher.”

“And this kid is seventeen?”

“Or eighteen. She was at Wilson with Brooke.”