Eleanor fell to her knees when she saw the torn denim of Daisy’s jeans. Nearby were her favorite white sneakers with the pink laces. Eleanor’s scream echoed through the quiet morning, bringing neighbors out of their houses in a panic. Sarah arrived moments later, and the two women held each other, sobbing.
The police arrived quickly, led by Sheriff Miller. He cordoned off the area and started a massive search. The quiet town was suddenly crawling with officers and volunteers. They combed through the woods, the fields, and the old drainage ditches. The family walked with them, calling Daisy’s name until their voices were gone.
A few hours later, the police brought Max in for questioning. He was eerily calm. He told the Sheriff that Daisy had received a phone call while they were walking and that she had turned around and walked away. The Sheriff didn’t believe him for a second, but without evidence, he couldn’t hold him.
By late afternoon, the search ended in the worst possible way. A local man found Daisy’s body hidden in a thicket of brush. The scene was brutal. The medical examiner confirmed there had been a struggle—Daisy had fought for her life with everything she had. She had been raped and murdered.
The news shattered the community. People who never locked their doors were suddenly buying deadbolts. The police worked around the clock, but Max’s story held up just enough, and they couldn’t find a murder weapon or DNA that wasn’t contaminated. Daisy was buried in a closed casket, the whole town attending the service.
