Chapter 8
CHAPTER
I shifted quickly into support mode. During my years at Johns Hopkins, I’d spent as much time working in a counseling clinic as I had researching criminal behavior, so I listened in respectful silence as the Talbots, now sitting in the father’s office, poured out their grief and bewilderment.
“Car crash?” Will Talbot said between clenched teeth. “That damned piece-of-crap Bronco?”
Sampson shook his head. “I’m sorry to say your son was murdered, Mr. Talbot. Shot at close range.”
That further crushed their souls.
“Why?” Sue Ann sobbed as she held tight to Stella, who’d curled up in her arms.
“We don’t know, ma’am,” I said. “We’re trying to figure that out.”
“Where did this happen?” the father asked, his breathing choppy.
Sampson and I sat down and told him what we knew.
“What was he doing out there?” Stella asked.
“We think he took Abby there to be romantic,” I said softly.
Conrad’s mother shook her head, weeping. “And—what? Someone just walked up to them, way out on that island, and shot them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said. “It appears that way. One shot. Abby was wounded and is in critical condition, but it appears your son was blocking her. He slowed the bullet down and redirected it, which probably saved her life.”
That set them off all over again.
We waited until they could answer questions and then asked the most pressing ones as quickly and sensitively as we could so we’d better understand their son.
Conrad was their middle child. He’d been smart, athletic, and likable from a very young age. Schoolwork came easily to him. So did lacrosse, his first love.
Abby had entered his life the year before.
“She played lacrosse too. They were good together,” Sue Ann said, nodding. “Perfect for each other.”
“If you like that perfect type,” Stella said.
“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.