Chapter 81
Mark sat at his desk, the afternoon sun slanting through the blinds in harsh, narrow stripes across the folders strewn in front of him. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the scarred wood as he reread the autopsy report of Vivian Twombly for what had to be the fifth time. Something wasn't sitting right. He furrowed his brow deeper, leaning closer to the page. Vivian's fingernails had been meticulously removed—cleaned inside and out—just like William’s victims. That particular detail had always stood out in William’s signature: the almost obsessive need to erase even the tiniest shred of evidence from the bodies. But there were glaring differences too. Vivian hadn’t been r***d. There were no signs of s****l assault like the others. Instead, the trauma was focused on her throat
- Writer
