by A.R. Wise
* * *
“Bentley, this is my daughter, Darcy. She went to school with the victims.”
“Oh really?” asked Bentley as he shook Darcy’s hand. “Were you friends with them?”
“Sort of,” said Darcy. “Betty and I knew each other, but we weren’t really close. I stayed over at her house for a slumber party once. Not very many people were friends with Devin. He was a pretty quiet kid.”
“It’s awful what happened to them,” said Bentley. “Hector and I have been researching the case all morning. We’ve got the IndieStarters campaign ready to go, but we haven’t published it yet. We need to come up with money levels, and what we’re going to give donors. Here, let me show you what we’ve done so far.”
The office furniture hadn’t been delivered yet. They were working on Hector’s laptop on a foldable card table. Hector had wheeled over his massive office chair from across the hall while Bentley was sitting on a metal folding chair that was speckled with paint.
Lincoln began to read through the site. The first section of text was off to the left-hand side of the web page with pictures on the right. Betty Kline’s yearbook photo was first, and Lincoln recognized it from the milk carton photo Darcy’s band used in their flyer. Below that was a photo of a wooded area beside a stream.
