Abby was reading through the preliminary forensics report for what had to be the thirteenth time, her eyes tracking the same lines until the words began to blur together. She scanned every paragraph, every notation, searching for something, anything, that suggested there had been more people in the woods that night.
There was nothing.
No indication of extra footprints. No unexplained blood. No stray fibers. Nothing that contradicted the official narrative.
Nothing except one detail that refused to let go.
None of Joe’s blood had been found on Lincoln. And none of Lincoln’s blood had been found on Joe.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. Surely that mattered. Surely it meant something. If Archer had killed Eli and only Eli, then that absence made sense. It supported wha
