He followed her to Trey’s office. The room would not let him forget Trey either. He was present in the pictures, the stark, masculine furniture, the law books, and the bar cart full of pricey brown liquor.

She closed the door behind them before she spoke again. “Did you tell anyone at work you were coming here?”

So this was a secret meeting. Great. “My job keeps me on the move. No one’s going to find it strange that I left the office.”

“Good. Mills won’t mention it. He barely speaks. Strong, silent type.”

“Show me,” he said.

She held out the envelope. It was technically evidence, but he was untechnically going to do everything he could to conceal it from the cops, so there was no reason not to take it. He did so, and her empty hand immediately went to cup Robert, petting his back. He made a soft, happy sound.

She said, “I keep seeing her. Lexie Pine. I’m so tired that the edges of my vision feel all blurry. She’s in my peripheral vision, peering in my windows. But when I go look directly, there’s no one. The weirdest part? I’m not seeing the woman in the mug shot. Not that middle-aged person. It’s Lexie when Trey knew her. The one in that envelope.”

He was still examining the outside, reading the red-stamped words. “Coral sent pictures?”

“Not just any pictures. The pictures. The ones that Adam Wilkerson took that night,” she said.

“How?” he asked, walking quickly to Trey’s desk to empty the contents. At least twenty photos fell out, along with a single sheet of college-ruled paper, filled front and back with crabbed, spidery writing. The note was new, but the photos were very old, the corners bent, the paper soft from years of handling.