Page 15 of Return of the Spider
“No drugs?” Sampson asked.
The girl shook her head. “No way.”
Her father said, “They both wanted to play for Division One programs. They were focused. Conrad was so determined that he’d make it…” He choked up. “Just so unfair.”
“No enemies?” I asked.
His wife shook her head. “Conrad? He might have made a lot of people frustrated on the lacrosse field, but he didn’t have a negative bone in his body. Like Will said, people just liked our son.”
Even his sister agreed. “Conrad always just seemed to cartwheel through life. It was like nothing ever touched him.”
“He soared through it,” Will added. “That’s why I called him Condor. They’re the biggest birds on earth, built to soar.”
At that, the dead boy’s father broke down, and his wife and daughter went over to console him.
It felt like time to leave. After again expressing our condolences, we stood up.
Sue Ann said, “Can we call the rest of our family?”
Her husband said, “Conrad’s older brother, Geoff?”
“You can call anyone and everyone you want,” I said. “This is a time to be surrounded by the people who mean the most to you.”
Will Talbot asked, “When can we see him? Won’t someone have to identify him?”
“When the medical examiner’s work is complete,” Sampson said.
I said, “We’ll let you know as soon as that happens.”
“Detectives?” Stella said with misty red eyes. “Catch whoever did this.”
“Count on it,” Sampson said, and we left.
CHAPTER
9
“Count on it?” iasked Sampson when we were back in the car.
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said it that way.”
“We’re both learning.”
“Every day, brother,” Sampson said.
We talked on the drive to GWU Hospital, agreeing that unless we found a third party in a love triangle, we might be dealing with a random incident, some sort of thrill kill.
Lisa Howard and her father were in the waiting room outside the OR where surgeons were working on Abby. Abby’s father, a judge advocate general for the U.S. Marine Corps, was in the air, coming home from San Diego. We introduced ourselves and asked how they were holding up.
Lisa Howard wiped at tears. “We were doing okay until I heard about Conrad.”
“An out-and-out tragedy,” her father said. “Who does something like this?”
“And how are we going to tell Abby?”
“Trust me,” I said, “you will know how when the time is right.”
That seemed to calm the wounded girl’s mom enough for her and her father to answer our questions. Their version of Abby was the same as the Talbots’—she was filled with life and genuinely interested in both academics and athletics.
