Evidence transfer forms.
Custody receipts.
Lab intake records.
Court exhibits.
His fingers moved from page to page, searching for something he was not even certain he wanted to find.
At first, everything looked ordinary.
Too ordinary.
That was what bothered him.
Every form was complete. Every box checked. Every date legible. Every signature placed exactly where it should have been. In Mitchell’s experience, real paperwork usually bore the fingerprints of real life: crossed-out times, missing initials, rushed handwriting, coffee stains, corrections. This file was almost clean enough to look rehearsed.
He returned to the first transfer form.
The murder weapon had been logged at 11:42 p.m. by Detective Howard Crain.
Transferred at 12:15 a.m.
Received at 12:22 a.m.
Signed by Thomas Reed.
Mitchell frowned.
Reed had never been a police officer.
He had been with the Department of Criminal Justice then, working administrative transport coordination. Why would he have signed for evidence in a county murder case?
