Reed looked at it.
For a moment, all color drained from his face.
Then he laughed softly.
“Where did you get that?”
“You tell me.”
“That photo is ancient.”
“You knew Martin Keller.”
“A lot of people knew Martin.”
“You signed the evidence transfer in his murder case.”
“I signed many forms in my career.”
“You were not assigned to that case.”
Reed’s eyes lifted. “And yet my signature is there. So maybe there was a reason.”
“What reason?”
“I don’t remember.”
Mitchell stared at him, feeling something inside him settle into place. Not certainty. Not proof. But a recognition that the man before him had chosen his answer long before entering the room.
“You don’t remember knowing a murder victim, standing with him in a photo, and signing evidence in the case that sent another man to death row?”
Reed leaned in, placing both palms on the desk.
