Craig rolled on, in silence, for a while. During a dinner stop, the name of Gordon Biggio was never mentioned. With his last bite of chicken, Craig glanced at his watch. He wanted to get home before his children went to sleep. The night was dark and cold. He pointed the Suburban for Spring Lake, for Home Plate. As he walked through the back door, Conor, in his pajamas, his skin pink from a warm bath, came running, yelling cheerfully, "Da-dee! Da-dee!" Craig Biggio grabbed his boy with his hands and raised him effortlessly until Conor was high in the air, way above sea level, giggling with delight.