Abigail
The man in the photograph had his back to the camera. But I knew, I had always known someone had been there that night.
The parking lot was emptying around me, car engines turning on with headlights sweeping across the tarmac. I stood beside my car and stared at the blurry image in my hand.
This wasn't in the box sent to me. There wasn't a picture of a man bending over the car that night or the press wouldn't have ruled it out as a single car accident.
My fingers shook. Oh my god, this was proof, undeniable proof that they were murdered, the man was evening bending over my parents car. With this I could get the police to start the investigation again.
But what about all the warnings I got?
I dragged a hand over my face, biting back a groan. Who was this person? Were they friends or foes? Why did it seem like they were trying to help me one minute but the next, they were threatening me?
