Chapter Twenty-EightMonday, June 16th, 1966. Barely one week after I first saw the wretched body of Norma Jennings sprawled in the sand and felt an impotent surge of outrage and despair.
Night had descended and I drove my car through a wooded drive keeping my thoughts sheltered from the consequences ahead. The story. Finding the truth pushed me forward. I hoped I was wrong. Top down, wind streaming in over the side but I felt rock solid with a granite sense of purpose, unmoved and unmovable. There'd been some rain and the tires hummed as they spun along the tarmac prior to turning down the dirt road. The moon above was shrouded in cloud and I could almost hear the Wagnerian music in the treetops and the shrieks of carrion fowl piercing the night air. Inexplicably, I thought of a purple pr
