It was before them.
She reached for the old newspaper coverage from the morning after the murder. In the corner of one article was a small photograph of Martin Keller’s house, police tape stretched across the yard.
Behind the tape stood neighbors, officers, and onlookers.
Amelia enlarged the image on her scanner.
There, near the edge of the frame, stood Thomas Reed.
But he was not looking at the house.
He was looking across the street.
At Mrs. Avery’s porch.
And on that porch, barely visible behind the curtain, stood a little girl.
Chloe.
Amelia’s breath caught.
She opened Rachel’s letter again and read the line once more.
Somewhere connected to “the first lie.”
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Amelia hesitated before answering.
“Amelia Grant.”
For a moment, there was only static.
Then a man’s voice spoke, low and strained.
“You found Rachel’s boxes.”
