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“We need to get a look at that newspaper.” A muscle in Lambert’s jaw clenched.
She was breathing way too fast as they made their way back to the deceased. Despite the chill in the air, a bead of sweat dripped down her back. There was a chance this had nothing to do with her. Since her abduction, her mind went dark places, and the worst-case scenario was usually the first to pop into her head. Her heart was darting against her ribs by the time they passed through the threshold of the kitchen. The medical examiner was there, and the body was laid out on a white sheet.
“Where’s the newspaper that was on the table?” Her voice was tight, stress squeezing each syllable.
“Bagged for evidence.”
“We need to take a look at that. Nothing’s supposed to be moved until the scene is released.”
The investigator shrank back at the bite in Lambert’s words, turned, and retrieved a clear evidence bag, placing it in his waiting hands.
She was barely aware of Lambert’s fingers wrapped around her arm. There was a roar in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear a word Lambert was saying. Sure, his mouth was moving, but there was no sound. The article twisted her focus up in a familiar web of the past. A picture of her—braces, freckles, cheeks pink with a summer sunburn—was visible through the evidence bag. Community Fearful After Teen Abduction.
“He staged the victim to look like me.”
