Autographed by Meghan!
I preferred it when life came in tidy packages. When it didn’t — when something went awry — I was exceedingly skilled at packaging it back up. It was my job to do so after all. I was a reconstructionist. I collected the puzzle pieces, then I gave those pieces to an investigative team to sort out. I didn't ask questions. I didn't offer answers. I saw. I recorded. I moved on. I didn't dwell or obsess. I didn’t hunt down suspects. I didn’t follow clues to find a killer. And I certainly didn’t work side by side with anyone. Least of all, a vampire who I strongly suspected might turn out to be the major missing component at the end of the trail. Then I saw something I couldn't forget. It wasn't the bloodiest thing I'd ever seen. It wasn't even close. But it haunted me. I didn't like being haunted. And I couldn't figure out how to get it out of my head. Someone was killing teenaged boys in the Pacific Northwest. Despite my misgivings, if I could help catch a killer, I had to at least try.
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Photo taken by the lovely:@meghancianadoidge