Page 142 of State of the Union (First Family 3)

The comment gave Sam an idea. “I have a friend who was recently widowed. She’s joined a group of young widows, and she just told me it’s been very helpful to her. I can connect you with her if you think it might help.”

“I’m not a widow, though.”

“Aren’t you? You were going to spend your life with Audrey, and now you’re not. I’d say you qualify. Would you mind if I gave my friend Roni your number?”

He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “Sure.”

“Thank you for seeing us. I’m sorry we had to put you through it again.”

“Whatever it takes to get this guy, not that it’ll bring her back, but it’ll give us some comfort to know he’s not out there living his life while she’s dead. And I don’t want anyone else to go through the hell we are.”

Freddie gave Sam an arm to help her up.

Wes walked them to the door.

“Keep coming to the grief group meetings. It helps to connect with other loved ones who’ve been touched by violent crime. It’s helped me.”

He looked confused for a second. “Oh right. Your dad.”

“Yes. We’ll keep you informed of any developments. Hang in there, Wes.”

“I’m trying.”

After the door closed behind them, Sam said, “Well, that did nothing but reopen his wound.”

“It was a good thought to connect him to Roni. That alone might make it worth the trip.”

“I suppose. We’ve had some frustrating cases, but this one is the worst ever.”

“Yeah, it’s right up there.”

They went next to the apartment Ling Woo had shared with three other Georgetown graduate students. Only her roommate Lily was home when they arrived on the third floor after another slow, painful climb for Sam.

“Is there news?” Lily asked.

“No.” Sam explained about starting over when the leads ran dry. “Would you mind if we interviewed you again, just to be sure we have everything?”

“Of course. Whatever I can do. We’re all still in shock. Ling was the sweetest girl. She’d do anything for anyone. We called her the house mother. She was always cooking for us and cleaning up after us and taking care of us.” Her voice broke as she sat on a red sofa. “We had no idea how much she did until she wasn’t here anymore.”

“We’re so sorry for your loss.”

Lily used a tissue to wipe away tears. “Thank you. It’s so senseless, you know?”

“We certainly do.”

“What can I do to help?”

“We know you and your other roommates went over everything with the first detectives you spoke with. Do you mind if we do that again?”

“No, not at all.”

They spent the next hour reviewing the notes from the first interview, discussing Ling’s routine, the people she saw every day, her weekend job at a nearby coffee shop. Detectives had spoken with close friends, classmates, lab partners and coworkers, who had all said the same thing. Ling had been a brilliant student with a bright future ahead of her as well as a nice person who got along with everyone in her orbit.

“There’s one thing that nags at me,” Lily said almost as an afterthought.

Sam sat up straighter. “What’s that?”

“About a week and a half before she was killed, we were at a bar one night. It was rare for her to come out with us, but we were celebrating our roommate Cassie’s birthday, so she came. We were at a bar a mile or so from campus, and we met up with a bunch of guys that Cassie knows from high school. She grew up here in DC. One of them, this guy Shane, was hitting on Ling. She wasn’t interested, but he didn’t let that stop him from bugging her all night.”