My eyes wandered to the top to find it dated three years prior. June 10th, to be exact. The date immediately stood out in my mind. I’d memorized every detail of the case, and my stomach sank, knowing what this meant.

It couldn’t be him.

“The last victim before you,” I said.

She nodded. “My brother went on this trip. He reminded me today when he stopped by this morning, and I asked about Chris. It’s when he stopped being friends with the sheriff’s son, but it also means the sheriff wasn’t here to commit one of the murders. That trip takes place an hour away. They bus the kids and chaperones out there. It’d be almost impossible.”

“That takes him off of our suspect list,” I confirmed.

“That just leaves us with Ethan, then?” she asked, a disappointed look on her face.

“You don’t think it’s him?” I asked.

“It’s just-” she started. “It’s nothing.”

She put the article away in the folder, returning everything to where she’d found it. I grabbed folders to help her and passed each to her as she started asking for specific ones.

“It’s not nothing,” I urged. “If you know something more, it could help us.”

“It’s just a feeling,” she answered. “When I saw Ethan, I barely remembered him from that night. I just don’t feel like he’s the one who attacked me.”

It only took a few minutes for us to return all the folders to their spots.

“I told you it was nothing,” she said pointedly.

“That isn’t nothing. You should trust your instincts. We don’t have enough evidence to point to Ethan either. We will keep investigating and keep our options open,” I assured her.

Ethan fit the profile, but I also trusted Len’s instincts. There wasn’t enough to convict him, but I would keep going until I had enough to make an arrest. Whether that was Ethan or someone else we’d missed was yet to be decided.

“Thank you,” Len said.

“This took no time at all. You don’t have to thank me,” I assured her.

“Not for this,” she answered. “For believing me.”

My heart swelled, and I took Len’s hand as we left the museum. There was nothing that could take this night away from us.

Our last night of normalcy.

* * *

There was a package sitting on the steps when we returned.

The automatic lantern lights were turned on, hanging on the porch. It was hard to see in the growing darkness, but the package was placed right by the door.

A perfectly tied red ribbon sat on top of the white box. I froze to examine it, but Len kept walking toward the package. The gift had a tag that became visible the second Len picked it up.

“For me,” she beamed.