His alibi for that evening was his own word: he’d been servicing boats in the shop’s back lot. No one could confirm it. And from the back of the rental station, a dry ravine led through thick brush to the trail to the old cabin. It was a fifteen-minute walk, with no roads and no cameras.
What had once looked like cooperation now looked like control. 🕵️
The invitation to return to the station was phrased as casually as possible: a routine review of old files, a few bureaucratic gaps to close. Tyler arrived without a trace of nerves. He chatted with the officer at the door and even asked whether there had been any progress for Hannah and Lily.
In the interview room, he recounted the events of 2019 with eerie precision, almost word for word. The weather. The kayak colors. The briefing. Detectives kept the questions simple and friendly, letting him believe he was still just a helpful witness.
Two hours in, the conversation drifted to how difficult it must have been to identify the girls after so long. Eager to show how well he understood the case, Tyler tossed out an offhand remark.
“With the girls shaved completely bald,” he said, “recognizing them from their looks would’ve been almost impossible.”
