Tom ushered them into his dining room and introduced his wife, Anna, whose puffy eyes betrayed her true state of mind, though she was determined to play the part of the hostess, in an attempt to make everyone feel as comfortable as possible. She had an array of pastries on the table and offered coffee all around.

When Carolyn saw the man standing at the end of the table, it was obvious he was the homicide detective. Sometimes life imitates art, and this was one of those cases. He was clearly sent from central casting.

Detective Dave Thompson was a tall, middle-aged, handsome black man, graying at the temples, with a matching, perfectly trimmed mustache. He wore black-rimmed reading glasses, which he nervously took on and off a few times as he greeted the visitors. His finely tailored charcoal suit, white shirt, and deep-blue tie with a perfectly wrapped Windsor gave him a dignified air. Mitch didn’t get close enough to tell for sure, but he detected a hint of elegant cologne. He reminded Mitch of an older version of the right fielder and clean-up hitter from his varsity team and struck him as someone he would have gravitated toward had they been at the same cocktail party. However, he clearly wasn’t there to make chit-chat. After all the introductions were completed, Thompson began. Though murder was rare in this suburb of Akron, he was a pro who had done this sort of thing before. The look on his face and his demeanor, however, made it clear this was not some run-of-the-mill barroom fight gone awry. He stood up and cleared his throat.

CHAPTER 9

Betrayal

The trust of the innocent
Is the liar’s most useful tool.
—Stephen King

“PLEASE ACCEPT MY condolences,” the detective began. “I’m truly sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances, and I know this is very difficult for all of you, so I will try to be as brief as possible. I should be clear that I can only release a limited amount of information, and I must also insist that you keep the details of what I tell you to yourselves, because it is privileged information, and once the media gets a hold of some of these details, they are going to have a field day.”

They were all arrayed around the table, expecting to hear a simple yet awful story of a husband who lost it and went on a rampage with tragic results. Dave Thompson knew the truth was far worse, and so he hesitated, trying to find the right words with which to honestly convey such devastating information with the appropriate degree of sensitivity. That last comment, about the media, brought a gasp from Maryann, and everyone leaned in a little closer.