Chapter Thirty-eight
Nancy froze in front of the medicine cabinet. Before her
lay stacks of boxes just a little bigger than matchboxes, each with a date
lettered on it in black block letters. Her hand trembled as it reached for a
small box labeled 6/18/2018.
Pushing the box open, she gasped. A piece of fabric, stained with blood, lay on
top, and below, poking out, were strands of hair. She pulled her pen and gently
lifted an edge of the fabric, looking at the dark-brown hair. Short and curly,
clearly it was pubic hair, but there were no roots. They’d been cut from their
owner. They wouldn’t be able to trace her from the root follicle, but the blood
and any other fluids on the panties might help them match her to a crime.
Turning the box around, she studied the date again and wra
