CHAPTER ONE
Deputy Sheriff May Moore stood in the evidence room. It was a narrow, long room located at the back of the Fairshore police department’s main building.
It was well secured, with thick walls and no windows. There was a ventilation grille high in the wall, and ceiling lights. In winter it was a freezing place, but in summer it was pleasantly cool.
It was eight a.m. on an early summer morning now, and May felt the chill as she carried an item inside, to add it to one of the current cases. Now that she’d been promoted to deputy, organizing and maintaining this evidence room was one of her new tasks.
The walls were lined with shelves, on which the evidence from the cases was neatly stored in date order.
Pushing a strand of sandy blond hair back from her face, she leaned down, placing the item, in its plastic evidence bag, on the correct shelf.
Here, in this room, decades of items from past crimes were stored, waiting to be brought out and used as evidence against the criminals. Mostly, in this quiet town, on the shores of Eagle Lake in Tamarack County, Minnesota, these crimes were not serious. This one was from a burglary. The burglar had dropped a Kleenex from his jacket pocket as he’d stuffed valuables into them. Even used Kleenexes could provide vital forensic evidence. This one had just come back from analysis and would now be stored here.
Sometimes, May thought she could feel the weight of the past crimes in the room. There was history here. Unsolved crimes. Cold cases that filled her with concern when she thought about the criminals still at large.
And all the way at the end of the room was the box containing the evidence from her sister’s disappearance.
Holding her breath, May paced down the well-swept floor to the far end of the evidence room. As she walked, she could see the boxes looked older, smelled mustier.
Her heart pounded hard as she reached the box where the meager evidence from her sister’s disappearance ten years ago was stored away.
At the age of eighteen, Lauren had gone missing after storming out of the house, following a fight with nineteen-year-old May. That fight always made May feel desperately guilty. If they hadn’t fought, would her sister be here today?
She’d gone down to the lake. Witnesses had seen her walking that trail.
And May knew that a bloody scrap of fabric,, one that matched up with the top she’d been wearing, had been found snagged on a shrub near the pier.
Her body had never been found.
Since then, they had been two sisters, not three. May, and her older sister, Kerry. Kerry had always been the golden child, the most successful, the highest achiever, doted on by her parents. Today, she was an FBI agent with a brilliant career, embodying her parents’ dreams. May had always lived in her shadow.
She often wondered if the dynamic would have been different if Lauren had still been alive.
If only she knew what had happened, what had played out on that terrible day. There might be other things in the box. What if there were? May had never seen the contents. Sheriff Jack, her boss, had not been in charge back then. There had been an older sheriff heading up this precinct, who’d retired two years after Lauren had vanished.
There it was. May stood, facing the box that contained all traces of her sister’s investigation, breathing in its musty smell, wondering what else was in it.
Just a couple of weeks ago, Sheriff Jack had given her permission to look at Lauren’s case. May felt desperate to know if there was any detail that had been overlooked. Perhaps some crucial piece of evidence had been missed, and now that she was county deputy, she might have the reach and the responsibility to be able to take it further.
But to May’s consternation, opening a case was not a quick process. Wheels had to be put in motion. Records and paperwork had to be requested from the archives, which were not stored on site, but in the main police department in Misty Hills. Nothing could be done until the correct permissions had been granted and all the information had been collated.
It was all frustratingly slow, and meanwhile this box stood literally within arm’s reach of her.
May reached out her arm and touched it, running her fingers over the cardboard, seeing the faint traces of dust.
She knew if she opened the box, she would be putting herself in the heart of the past. She traced the outline of the lid where it had been taped shut.
It seemed to beckon to her.
What was inside? She didn’t even know. Could there be a clue in here that could change everything?
She didn’t know, but she suspected the contents of the box would be a stark reminder of the reality of her sister’s disappearance. She was sure painful memories would surge.
And yet she couldn’t open it. Not until the paperwork had been scanned and sent over, and until Sheriff Jack had the official confirmation that this case was active again.
How she wished she could grab the box out of this room, take it home, and peek inside. Nobody would know or care if she did. The only person going into this room at the moment was her.
For a moment, the voice of temptation was loud and persuasive.
If there was anything vital to be found that could help her find out more about what had befallen her sister, it might be in here. Perhaps there would even be evidence that a cold-blooded killer was still out there somewhere. The contents of this box might lead her to the heart of it.
For a moment, May actually slipped her hands around the box and lifted it, feeling its weight. It wasn’t a heavy box. It was average size, only about eighteen square inches. Just a moment or two alone in this room, and she could take the tape off and see—actually see—what was inside.
May sighed.