Page 12 of Return of the Spider
He stopped, squatted, and said, “These are something, but I can’t see a tread, and there’re little strands of fabric in the prints.”
“He’s wearing wool socks,” I said.
“So he can come in silent and not leave an identifiable trace,” John said. “This is premeditation.”
Sampson set his police radio on the roof, and we put on gloves and opened the Bronco’s front doors. The victims were both Caucasian, topless, and in their teens.
The male victim had been shot through the back of the head at close range. The round had blown a ragged exit hole in his forehead and hit the female victim.
There was so much blood and brain matter on her face, it was hard to tell exactly where she’d been hit—until she groaned and rolled her head to one side, revealing a large scalp wound.
“She’s alive!” I shouted.
John grabbed his radio off the roof of the Bronco. “Dispatch, this is Sampson at the one-four-zero on Bear Island. We need a medevac helicopter here right now!”
CHAPTER
6
Twenty minutes later, wewatched the helicopter lift off the island carrying a gravely injured but very much alive seventeen-year-old Abigail Howard to the trauma team at George Washington University Hospital.
But there was no such miracle for Conrad Talbot, also seventeen. We knew who they were because we’d found his school ID in his wallet and hers in a small bookbag.
The District’s medical examiner was working on the scene, and as we waited for his report, a familiar figure emerged from the woods.
“Here we go,” Sampson sighed as the chief of detectives approached us.
George Pittman walked over while unwrapping a stick of gum. “I’m trying to quit smoking, so this is all I get.”
“Better than smoking,” I said.
Chief Pittman grunted noncommittally and chewed the gum for a moment.
“One dead, one alive?” he asked.
“Correct,” I said.
“Who are they?”
“Students at the Charles School in Alexandria,” I said.
“Private school. They come from cash, then, right?”
I squinted. “I suppose you can assume that. Why?”
“Because this is going to get a lot of media attention, that’s why,” the chief said, and chewed a few more times. Sampson and I filled him in on what we’d learned so far. I was surprised when Pittman recognized one of the kids’ names.
“The dead one, Talbot. I saw a story about him in thePostlast spring. Captain of the lacrosse team. Good-looking too. And it turns out that guy on the bike is some Senate aide. We are going to need more manpower here.”
I thought about Tony Miller’s funeral the day before. Where was Pittman then? But this was only my second homicide case. I wasn’t going to turn down help.
The chief went on. “So, gentlemen, I’m bringing in Diehl and Kurtz to take the lead on this.”
Sampson grimaced. “Chief, we can—”
“No, Detective,” Pittman said flatly. “I can’t have two junior members of my team running an investigation like this. I’m sorry. The two of you will work with Diehl and Kurtz, and hopefully you’ll both learn something.”
I could tell John wanted to counter that with something snarky, but he held his tongue. Well, almost.
