All of the food and dishes on the table have been cleared away.  In their place is the framed photograph from the back bedroom.

“Samantha was our first born,” Dean says.  “She was also the first in our family who had aspirations of going to college.  We didn’t really understand it, but figured it was just the way she was wired.  She had already saved a few thousand dollars, and even when she added up all of the scholarships she received it wasn’t enough.  She was also turned off by how pushy the loan officials were at the school, and figured there had to be a better way.  Then, one day she told us about good-paying job where she could set her own hours so it wouldn’t interfere with homework.”  He hangs his head.  “Guess I should’ve asked what it was.  But I trusted her.”

“We all did,” Karen says.  “Then we got a call from her cell phone in the middle of the night.  Of course, we think it’s her having car problems.  It wasn’t.  It was the cops.  Bud was the one who found out who the killer was.”