Emma snorts. “Yeah, welcome to the bunker.”

“But it is like a bunker! Goodness. I suppose it’s appropriate, given what you’re investigating, but still.” Kristin scans the room, the chairs and files and the desk. Before either of them can react, she’s plucked one of the victim ID photos from the file. “Who’s this? He’s handsome, isn’t he? Don’t tell me he’s a suspect!”

“Not a suspect.” Bell takes the photo from her carefully.

“Oh my god, is he a victim? He is, isn’t he? Oh, that’s awful. He’s so young.”

Emma nods. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s appalling. And look at him—are they all like that? How on earth do you manage?”

“Are they all like what?” Emma’s attention changes. Bell can see it in her body language, that suspension of breath, the slight narrowing of her eyes.

“Like… I don’t know, let me see again.”

He’s shocked when Emma takes the photo out of his hand and gives it to Kristin. Even more shocked when she starts pulling other victim photos out of the file. She spreads them out on the desk. When he opens his mouth to object, she gives him a quelling look.

“Oh my gosh, they are,” Kristin breathes. “Look at them!”

“We’ve been looking.” There’s an intensity, an urgency, in Emma’s face. “They’re all different. Different genders, different races…”

“But they’re all beautiful. Can you see? Their eyes, their skin… Look at this one, the lovely cheekbones. And this one! Oh, they’re all glowing!”

Emma lifts her gaze his way, and they don’t need words—it’s all unspoken. This is it, this is the connection. And now that it’s been pointed out to him, it’s like a lamp suddenly flicking on.

The victims are all beautiful. Some of them unconventionally, but all of them have a luminous quality. It’s in their clear cheeks, their glossy hair, white teeth. They smile out of the photos, young and fresh and radiant, bursting with good health, the vigor of adolescence spilling off them like sunshine. Smooth foreheads and wide eyes and clean jawlines—the bone structure of the newly dead.

“Oh, that’s so sad,” Kristin says, her eyes welling up. “Their families must be devastated.”

“It is sad,” Emma agrees. “Kristin, can I show you some other photos? They’re upsetting, but I’d really like to hear your opinion.”

She doesn’t need to catch Bell’s eye this time, the communication between them so entirely unified that he doesn’t even blink when she opens the file and starts spreading out the Berryville crime scene photos.

He watches Kristin. What they’re doing, this is not allowed. The crime scene pictures are confidential, not intended to be shared, nothing released to the media or the public. But he can feel the buzz from Emma, and he wants to know, too. What does Kristin Gutmunsson see? This girl, who lived alongside a killer all those years… How did that alter her perception? And what does she perceive now?

“Oh my god.” Kristin gasps, claps a hand over her mouth, closes her eyes—but only for a moment. Something in the photos is as compelling for her as the answer is for Bell.