Niall couldn’t stop looking at the blank eyes staring back at him. The woman was young, according to the police file she was only 28.
Niall thought she looked younger than that and maybe that was why he couldn’t shake the image of her from his head. It was only a picture, after all.
Well, it was a series of pictures of the same scene.
The red-haired, blue-eyed, twenty-eight year old, named Carly Jensen, whose body was found three weeks ago, ripped to shreds, in the woods just off the highway.
The dim light from the tiny desk lamp that sat on small wooden table in the corner of the motel room was making his eyes hurt.
Niall looked over and could see Zayn’s tattooed arm hanging over the side of the bed on the other side of the room.
It was almost 2am, but Niall knew that World War 3 could be going on just outside and it wouldn’t wake Zayn.
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