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It was after sunset when Denise finished walking Harvey.

At home, she filled his bowl with fresh water, petting him as he lapped it up. Then she fixed herself a glass of diet cola with crushed ice, went to her kitchen table and set up her laptop.

She’d had a long day at the paper, but it was time to resume working on the one story that mattered most to her.

In the park with Harvey, lifting her face to the calm evening breezes, she’d assessed what Opal had told her earlier that day at the IHOP. Now, in her kitchen, swiping photos on her phone, she studied the key Franklin quote.

Suppose, for a moment, everything Opal told me about Carrie—this quote, their project, the context—is true.

Harvey nuzzled Denise’s lap, and she stroked his head as she thought. Taken with what her recent investigation had yielded, she was confident something was taking shape, so she reviewed key points.

Bottom line: after an altercation at school, three girls go into the woods for reasons no one knows, but only one comes out.

Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.

Carrie was the suspect but was not charged—not enough evidence. She moves away and the case goes cold. Donnie Ray Hyde emerges as the suspect. Again, not enough evidence.

Denise took up a pen and jotted some notes, old-school, thinking.

Then Vern’s diagnosed. He’s terminal. Carrie moves back to Clear River. Vern sees Hyde on death row, resulting in an eleventh-hour confession and financial relief for his mother, through a friend of Vern’s.

What else is there? What am I missing?

Sipping ice-cold cola, scrolling the case, opening files. Searching and thinking, tapping her pen.

She delved again into some of the case file reports and crime scene findings. No gun was recovered at the scene. No casings. One report hypothesized the scene might have been staged to look like something else. In his confession, Hyde said he gathered the casings, took items from the dead girls, then got rid of them and the gun.

“What do you think, Harvey?”

Denise pushed on to other reports, coming to one for footwear impressions. They found those consistent with Abby’s, Erin’s and Carrie’s shoes. But there was a partial, larger than those of the girls, consistent with a size eleven, which was attributed to footwear worn by Donnie Ray Hyde.

Shoes. Hyde. Shoes.

Something was pinging in the back of Denise’s mind.

Small at first, then it got louder.

Darnell George Sharp.

Hyde had given Darnell his shoes because they were the same size.

Nine.