Deliberately.
My eyes climbed to his face, and recognition landed like a punch to the ribs.
“Jesus.”
It was not Allen. It was not Allen. It was not Allen…
Ryan watched me.
“You know him?”
I swallowed.
“I interviewed his mother. His name was Caleb.”
The words barely came out as I tried to wash away the relief I felt.
Three months before, this man’s mother had sat across from me, clutching a coffee she’d never taken a sip from.
She’d told me her son never missed Sunday dinner or ignored her calls.
He never disappeared on her without a word.
I’d promised her we’d bring him home…now it would be in a body bag.
I had hoped, for the nerd, that he would be found alive, just avoiding women, hiding in his notebooks.
One of the crime scene photographers stepped aside, giving me a clearer view, and that’s when I saw it.
Across nerdy little Caleb’s chest, there was a mark that looked like it was made by dragging a finger through blood...
A frown.
Two small dots and a curved line pulled downward.
A child’s sad face.
I stared. “What the fuck…”
Ryan followed my eyes.
“You think it means something?”
“It means the killer wanted us to see it.”
Is this a signature? Or a message...
I forced my attention away from the body and began scanning the surrounding ground.
Leaves.
Broken twigs.
Boot impressions.
A crushed cigarette.
Nothing jumped out until something caught the light near the edge of a moss-covered root.
