“I’m researching the case for a story. Did you know her?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “We’ve known Sam and her parents ever since they moved in.”

“Could you tell me a little about her family?”

The woman gave Wyatt another appraisal. Then she looked at the man, who tapped his watch.

“The groceries can wait, Art,” she said to him, then turned back to Wyatt. “Why don’t you come in for coffee?”

For the next hour and several cups of coffee, Art and Darlene Bodek—a retired welder and a working hairdresser—told Wyatt the Moores’ tragic family history up to Samantha’s departure.

“After the house was sold, she headed for Toronto for school,” Art said.

“We said good-bye to her that day,” Darlene said. “It was so sad, because we watched her grow up beside us.”

Darlene hauled out old photo albums, pages crackling as she showed Wyatt pictures of Sam playing with the Bodeks’ two girls at birthday parties, at Coney Island, on prom night.

“This whole thing just breaks my heart,” Darlene said. “Sam’s had to face so much darkness in her life—her father, her mother, and now this.”

“It’s like they’re cursed,” Art said.

“Sam’s smart and strong,” Darlene said. “I don’t think she ran away, like some people around here say.”

“You know what I think?” Art said. “Police got to take another look at the boyfriend, and his weirdo friend who loaned them the truck.”

“Leo Barzi?”

“That’s the guy,” Art said. “There’s rumors this Barzi asked them to do something in Vermont where it happened. I think it’s related to that.”

Wyatt nodded. After a few more minutes, he finished the interview by thanking the Bodeks and giving them his card.

Twenty minutes later, not far from the Queens College campus near Kissena and 60th Avenue, Wyatt arrived at the Bottomless Mug Café to meet Sam’s boyfriend. He recognized Kevin Tatum from online TV news stories. He cut a lonely figure, sitting in a booth, staring out the window.

“Kevin?” Wyatt extended his hand. “Ray Wyatt. Sorry I’m late. Thanks for meeting me.”

Lines at the corners of Tatum’s eyes and around his unshaven face made him look older, grim.

“How’re you holding up?” Wyatt asked.

Tatum shrugged, then ordered coffee from their server. Wyatt had had enough coffee and opted for a glass of tomato juice. Then he took out his notebook and recorder.

“Tell me about Sam. How you met. Everything leading up to Vermont.”

Tatum related how Sam had lost her father, and how her mother raised her alone before her death. How they met, how Sam was determined to be a doctor.

“She’s a strong, beautiful, altruistic person.”

He recounted her plan to move to Toronto to pursue a medical degree, and that they’d used Leo Barzi’s pickup, with the faulty gas gauge, to save money.