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that.”
     
    Reluctantly, Father Murphy sat back down. “Okay Garrett, coffee… just black, please,” he said.
     
    Mr. Camp turned to me, looking for my preference.
     
    “Cream and one sugar, please,” I told him.
     
    I could see his hands were trembling as he prepared the coffee. He managed to get all three mugs to the table without spilling a drop.
     
    I waited until he was seated and took his first sip before I started my interview.
     
    “I got the feeling that you and Mrs. Camp were surprised that Jamie was not at home last night, is that right?”
     
    He nodded his head. He lifted his right hand, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then spread his thumb and index finger across the bones below his eyes.
     
    “Yes… she… I thought she was in her bed; when I looked in her room this morning and didn’t see her, I just thought she got up early and was downstairs having breakfast or on the computer. We don’t allow her to use the computer in her room, we are very… well, we like to keep an eye on…”
     
    He stopped mid-sentence. He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes.
     
    “I know it’s kind of futile, trying to keep her from using the computer without our knowledge, but we try to keep abreast of what she is doing and what she is looking at. We hear so many horror stories.”
     
    I could tell by the expression on his face that he just made some sort of connection. One of those horror stories had just become more than a story, it had become reality.
     
    “What happened? What happened to my daughter? You said she was murdered. How? Why? Are you sure that it’s Jamie? I need to see her. Where is she?”
     
    I knew there really was no way I was going to soften the blow for this man, so I just was as honest and as forthcoming as possible.
     
    “She was found in the woods at the northern end of town, not far from Route 42, near the Forester mansion. Her friends said she came up missing, so they went looking for her. They found her body just at the edge of the woods.”
     
    “Her friends? What friends? What the hell is going on?” He had his hand wrapped around his coffee mug, his knuckles were turning white his grip was so tight. “What was my daughter doing up there? I thought she was in bed.”
     
    He raised the coffee mug to his mouth, but he was trembling so hard that some of the liquid splashed out and stained the neatly pressed white business shirt that he had put on just an hour ago. Immediately he made an effort to wipe the brown liquid from staining the shirt, but gave up after a few seconds.
     
    I looked at my notebook and read him the names of the three girls that were now with Marty. I didn’t see much of a reaction when I read off Tiffany Bennett and Lisa Padilla’s names, but I did seem to get some reaction when the name Katie Hepburn was mentioned.
     
    “Mr. Camp? Do you know these girls?”
     
    “Yeah, I know them. Tiffany and Lisa have been friends with Jamie for years. Katie was… I didn’t know that they had reconciled. There was an incident awhile back, and Katie and my daughter weren’t getting along.”
     
    “What kind of incident, Mr. Camp?” I asked, my interest in his answer now piqued.
     
    “What the hell were they doing up there? How did they get there? None of those girls drive, do they?” He looked at me for answers—answers I knew I couldn’t give him.
     
    I repeated my question. “What kind of incident, Mr. Camp?”
     
    “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore the question, I just… this is just so…”
     
    “I know Mr. Camp, I completely understand, please take your time.”
     
    He turned his attention to Father Murphy. The distraught father’s eyes seemed to be speaking a language of their own. It was times like these that people with faith would just cling onto their beliefs for dear life, or fall by the wayside, like my partner Joe had now done.
     
    I got the impression from the look that Mr.