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Denise Diaz had returned to the paper.

The Chron , as locals called it, was once housed in a prominent three-story building downtown, next to the courthouse and city hall.

But the evolution of the newspaper business had pushed it from its brick edifice into a strip mall, between a paint store and a pet shop, across from the IHOP at the edge of town. The Clear River Chronicle was now in a leased unit just big enough to hold the desks for its nine-person staff, including the cramped office of the editor. With a print circulation of 4,500 and an online presence, the weekly was holding its own in a rocky business.

One wall of the newsroom displayed front pages and awards. On the counter at the reception desk sat a large aquarium treasured by editor Lynn Grant. It held her beloved tetras, guppies and blue bettas. She’d fixed a sign to it that warned: DO NOT TAP GLASS!

Denise was working at her corner desk.

She’d joined the Chronicle four years ago, after applying for an opening.

You’re overqualified and you’ll be underpaid , Lynn—a no-nonsense woman whose arm bore a tattoo of her late husband, Merle— had told Denise during the interview in a booth at the IHOP. But the job’s yours.

Denise had a long relationship with journalism, but the industry was in decline. Denise had to move to survive, enduring layoffs and buyouts at newsrooms from Seattle to Dallas.

In her time, she’d covered everything from cat shows to school shootings. Along the way, she married a news photographer, whom she divorced when he cheated on her. She’d think of him sometimes, usually while driving home with an old song on the radio underscoring that hers had been a lonely life—that is, until she’d found her one true love, Harvey, her golden retriever. He was always there for her, never let her down. They’d rescued each other. Still, she accepted that she was married to her job, and being a reporter was in her blood. She lived to tell stories and was always on the hunt for good ones.

Soon after she started at the Chronicle , Denise mined the paper’s archives for items that might have anniversaries coming up, or require follows or updates.

She’d already been familiar with one of the region’s biggest mysteries—the unsolved murders of Abby Hall and Erin Eddowes. Although the case had happened years before she’d joined the paper, Denise took over the story. She devoured the Chronicle ’s earliest reports. Then she read coverage by the big Texas and national news outlets, becoming an expert on the case.

Over her years at the paper, while watching the case grow colder, Denise would check with police for leads. She did small stories, waiting for the right time to do a fuller piece. She was considering a feature tied to the upcoming execution of Donnie Ray Hyde. He’d been considered a suspect but had always denied involvement. Her focus shifted when word reached her that Carrie Hamilton, the sole survivor of the double homicide, had returned to the county.

Denise had put out calls to her sources for help finding Car rie, and for developments on the case. If she could get an exclusive interview with the survivor and weave in Hyde’s upcoming execution, she’d have a strong feature.

But it was not to be.

Now Denise sat back in her chair, considering another approach. The Chronicle ’s front door opened, accompanied by the yip of puppies from the pet store. Lynn had returned—she quickly spotted Denise and made her way to her desk.

“How did it go at Cedar Breeze, Denise?”

“She turned me down.”

“What was the sense you got from her?”

“She was surprised, but she took my card…so maybe.”

“Let her ponder it, then try again.”

“I want to know what happened in those woods.”

“Everyone does,” Lynn said. “With her dad being sick, and her husband’s issue in Los Angeles, Carrie’s got a lot going on, and I hear not everyone’s happy she’s back.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine coming home to face your ghosts after all these years.”

“And we know Hyde just lost out with the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles and the governor.”

“Yes, no surprise there. I’ll write something up on that.”

“I’m going to try to free you up to really dig into this story with the new Carrie-is-home angle. Maybe tie it to Hyde’s upcoming execution.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“I’m counting on you to deliver.”

Denise’s phone rang. Lynn nodded to it. “I’ll let you get that.”

Lynn left and Denise picked up her phone. The number was blocked but she recognized the voice of one of her sources, returning her call.

“Your timing’s uncanny,” her caller said. “Something has happened in the unsolved murders.”

“You mean Hyde striking out with the board? Everyone knows that.”

“No, something much bigger.”

“Really, pray tell.”

“Listen, you’re not getting this from me. You can’t even say it’s from an unnamed source, or on deep background. This is just on the wind, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What I’m going to tell you is absolutely true.”

Pressing her phone harder against her ear, Denise grabbed her pen, listening and taking notes. When the call ended, her heart beating a little faster, Denise called Will Young at the Clear River County District Attorney’s Office. Having been repeatedly reelected to the position, Young was encyclopedic on local criminal history. Fortunately, she’d caught him outside of court and he took her call.

“I’m seeking your response, on the record, to what the Chronicle has learned.”

“Go ahead.”

After Denise relayed what she’d heard from her source, there was a moment of silence before the DA spoke.

“What you’ve stated is correct.”

“All right, can you tell me how—”

“No, I’m sorry, but I cannot elaborate.”

The call ended. Denise paused, then placed a call to a law office in Livingston and left a message. Then she placed another call to the county sheriff’s office. While waiting, she began typing up the information she had. She was drafting a lead when her phone rang.

“Ridley Martin, returning your call.”

After outlining what she had, Denise asked Martin, a criminal law attorney, for his response.

“Your understanding is accurate, but I’m afraid I can offer your paper nothing further at this time.”

Thanking Martin, Denise typed up her notes. Then she went to give her editor an update.

“Get as much reaction as you can and get writing,” Lynn instructed. “Let’s get this up on our site ASAP.”

Back at her desk, Denise took a moment to think of the enormity of what she had. Collecting herself and concentrating, she began writing her breaking story.

Convicted killer Donnie Ray Hyde, a drifter from Kilgore, has confessed to killing Abby Hall and Erin Eddowes, both 17, of Clear River, the Chronicle has learned.

Hyde made the admission to the district attorney’s office through his lawyer in the days before his scheduled execution for the murder of 16-year-old Jenna Dupree in Tyler, Texas.

Hyde’s confession came after the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles, and the governor’s office, rejected his request to have his death sentence commuted to life, thereby removing his last and final chance for mercy…