43 Eighteen years ago.
Lewis poked his tongue into the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back the anger and frustration.
He couldn’t understand why they’d come straight to him. The body had only been found a few hours earlier, and he hadn’t exactly left his business card with it. Even if there’d been some sort of DNA found, he’d never been arrested or had his DNA taken so he didn’t see any way they would have matched it to him.
He’d hoped the body would remain undiscovered for a lot longer. He’d covered it over with leaves, bark and a few inches of mud, but hadn’t fully buried it six feet down. He’d heard somewhere that was best — that the body would rot down quicker that way. He didn’t know how true it was. It certainly hadn’t proved to be particularly helpful in this instance.
The
