“That’s my Willie.” Her eyes welled with new tears. “He’s kind to everyone. He never hurt anyone.” She looked up at Sam with watery brown eyes. “How...”

“He was stabbed in the chest. The medical examiner believes he died very quickly.”

With her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs, Carmen shook her head as if to deny what Sam had told her.

“Is there someone we could call for you? A friend or family member?”

Carmen took a moment to collect herself, to wipe the tears from her face and to sit up a bit. “Yesterday, I would’ve been able to give you a list of friends, mostly Willie’s teammates and their wives or girlfriends. When he didn’t come home last night, I called them all to see if they knew where he was, and none of them answered. The only one who took my call was Ray Jestings.”

“When did you last speak to Willie?” Freddie asked.

“Before the game. He called about twenty minutes before it started.”

“Did he express any worries or concerns about the game, other than the obvious stress of the play-offs?” Sam asked.

“No, he was very calm all day. Determined. Focused. He spent the morning playing with the boys and left for the ballpark around two.”

“Did you attend the game?”

Carmen shook her head. “My younger son has been sick, so I stayed home with the boys.” She paused, her eyes filling again. “I’m glad now that I wasn’t there. I was so upset when it happened. I knew how awful he must be feeling, and when they started throwing trash at him...”

Sam ached at the thought of having to tell her he’d been found in a Dumpster. They’d be keeping that detail to themselves—for now.

“Did he have problems with anyone on the team?”

“No, they all loved him. They even made him one of their captains this season. He was so proud of that. He’d worked so hard for so long... He made one mistake. One. And someone killed him for it?”

“We don’t know anything yet,” Sam said.

“But that’s why! They killed him because he missed that ball! How do I tell my boys that their papa died because he didn’t catch a ball?”