“Too many guns,” Shirley said. “That’s how he got in trouble the second time. We thought he was going to go to prison. I tell you: I don’t know what men see in guns.”

“Now, it’s not all guns that are bad,” Chester said.

“Most of them, if you ask me,” Shirley snapped. “Particularly those automatic ones.” Then turning to Laurie she added: “That’s what Brad got involved in. He was selling assault rifles.”

“Where did he get them?” Laurie asked. The idea of a skinhead youth selling assault rifles in upstate New York gave her a shiver.

“We don’t rightly know,” Chester said. “They came from Bulgaria originally. At least that’s where they’d been made. I came across a bunch of them hidden in our barn.”

“That’s terrible,” Laurie said. She knew it was a trite response, but she meant it. With her particular interest in the forensics of gunshot wounds, she’d seen a lot of cases, more than anyone else at the office. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever autopsied anyone victimized by one of Brad Cassidy’s customers.

“There’s one other thing we’d like to ask,” Shirley said haltingly. “We’d like to know if our boy suffered.”

Laurie looked away for a moment while her mind wrestled with the question. She hated to have to choose between truth and compassion. It was undeniable that Brad Cassidy had been mercilessly tortured, but what purpose would it serve to relate such horror to his grieving parents? On the other hand, she hated to lie.

“You can tell us straight,” Chester said, as if sensing Laurie’s quandary.

“He was shot in the head, and I believe he died instantly,” Laurie said, suddenly realizing she had an out. By such a statement she wasn’t being entirely honest, since she was not answering Shirley’s question, yet she wasn’t lying either. It was up to the Cassidys to ask the critical question about the order of events preceding Brad’s murder.

“Thank the Lord!” Shirley said. “He was a troubled boy and certainly not a good boy, but the idea that he might have suffered bothered me deeply.”

“I’m glad we could be of service,” Laurie said. She pushed off the desk, eager to avoid more questions by breaking up the meeting. “If there’s anything else I can do, please give me a call.”

Chester and Shirley stood up. They were grateful to Laurie, and the father pumped her hand enthusiastically. Laurie gave him one of her cards as she escorted them out of the cubicle and across the ID room. She opened the door to the waiting room, and the Cassidys filed out.

After a final goodbye, Laurie let the door close and lock. Then she breathed a sigh of relief.