— The warden squinted. “Yeah. That’s not one of ours. It looks like someone was watching the yard.”
Green tapped the monitor.
— “If Miller is innocent, this is going to be a disaster for the department. The evidence was solid, but this doesn’t sit right.”
Meanwhile, miles away, Rusty was moving on instinct. He was tracking a scent he’d picked up months ago. He had been in these woods before. Sarah, Alex, and Rusty had hiked here on a hot August afternoon. Back then, life was simple: a thermos of coffee, the smell of pine, and deer darting through the trees.
He found the old campsite. The ground was trampled, and there were remnants of a fire. He caught the scent of old blood and copper. He began to dig. After a few minutes, his teeth hit something hard. A small plastic case. A memory card. He grabbed it and ran. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he had to get it to someone.
Jack Pearson, a local hunter, was driving his old Ford pickup when a dog jumped into the road. Jack slammed on the brakes. He hopped out, thinking he’d hit a stray, but the dog didn’t look hurt. Rusty walked up and dropped the plastic case at Jack’s boots.
— “Well, hey there, fella. What’ve you got?”
Jack saw the logo on the plastic—it was a high-end SD card. He pocketed it and whistled for the dog to jump in the truck bed.
— “Come on, buddy. Let’s see what’s on this thing.”
Back at his cabin, Jack popped the card into his laptop. A folder appeared: “Night_1208.” The first file was dark and shaky. It looked like someone had left a trail cam running or dropped a GoPro. Then came the audio—voices.
“Hurry up, you idiot! You left your gloves! Just leave her, she’s out cold!”
The camera tilted. Silhouettes appeared. Men in biker vests. On one of them, a distinct tattoo: a skull with wings. Jack’s blood ran cold. He knew that tattoo. It belonged to a local gang. The next morning, he drove straight to the precinct. The card was handed over.
In his cell, Alex heard the heavy click of the lock at an unscheduled hour. He was taken to an interrogation room. Lt. Green was waiting with a laptop.
— “Alex, we found something. New footage.”
He hit play. Alex watched, frozen. He recognized the man with the tattoo. The name came to him instantly: Blake Harris. A guy Alex had busted years ago for narcotics. A guy who had promised to get even.
Alex looked at Green.
— “Is this enough?”
Green nodded slowly.
— “If the DNA matches and the court accepts the timeline, you’re going home.”
Alex took a breath. He didn’t cheer. He knew the real work was just starting.
Lt. Green looked at Alex with a mix of regret and newfound respect. Everything Alex had said was checking out. But they needed more than just a video.
— “We tracked the bikers,” Green said. “Their last known address was a farm up north. They cleared out two weeks ago. But if we can prove they were there…” He trailed off. “This is going to be big.”
— “They killed Sarah to get to me,” Alex said quietly. “I put Harris’s brother away six years ago. He got twenty years.”
Green nodded.
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