Criminal

They had called her friend, her alibi, who was supposed to say that Lucy had spent the night. Two months of hell passed, and then, suddenly, Lucy was eighteen. Sara tried to get Will’s attention, but he just stared at the floor. “Jesus Christ.” Faith wasn’t cursing Donnelly—she was looking at the victim’s face. “What the hell did he do to her?” There was a click as Pete’s foot tapped off the Dictaphone. Finally—acceptance. thirty-two Present Day WEDNESDAY Will sat on the wooden bench at the top of the rolling hill.