The argument with Nick was still fresh in her mind as she walked with Freddie toward the yellow crime scene tape. Take Brooke out of the equation and she would’ve been fine with handing the case over to Gonzo to run. But with a possible connection to her family, Sam wasn’t leaving anything to chance. “Yeah, I’m on it.” Tell him about Brooke. Sam’s conscience picked a hell of a time to rear its ugly head. You have to tell him. Not yet I don’t. Yes, you do.

“It’s going to be a hot one with the Springer kid involved. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Sam stashed her phone in her coat pocket just as a bloodcurdling scream came from the crowd of people gathered outside the tape. She tipped her head at Freddie, and they changed course toward the screamer, who was being restrained by patrol officers.

“What’ve we got?” Sam asked one of them.

“A Mrs. Chastain. Has reason to believe her son, Michael, is among the victims.”

“Please come with us, Mrs. Chastain,” Sam said, taking the woman by the arm and guiding her under the tape. “I’m Lieutenant Holland. This is my partner, Detective Cruz.” To Freddie, she said, “Where can we take her to get her away from the cameras?”

“The next-door neighbors have been great about letting us use their living room.”

“My Michael,” she said between hiccupping sobs as Sam led her up the concrete stairs to the neighbors’ townhouse. A woman greeted them at the door, her eyes sad and sympathetic as she wordlessly led them to a comfortable seating area. “He didn’t come home last night, and he always calls if he’s going to stay with one of his friends. He always calls. And then I saw on the news that something had happened at Hugo’s house. The reporters... They said there’re dead kids in there. That’s not true, is it?” She clutched Sam’s arm. “Tell me it’s not true.”

In that moment, Sam hated her job with every fiber of her being—not only because she had to decimate the woman currently clinging to her, but also because of the way it managed to screw up her own life on a regular basis. But right now, Mrs. Chastain’s needs trumped her own and they would until Sam could get answers for her and every one of the parents who’d be receiving unimaginable news on this sunny morning.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you it is true.”

The other woman’s wails would stay with Sam long after she closed the book on this case. She kept her arm around Mrs. Chastain as she guided her to a sofa. “Please no. Not my Michael. He always calls. He’s a good boy.”