The Price of Proof

“Of course,” she began, but her words faltered when she saw the color drain from his face. “What happened to you? You're white as paper.”

His skin carried the gray tint of wax—almost no blood left in it.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just a nightmare. Now, perhaps you'll tell me why you're here at an hour like this?”

Sloane pursed her lips, drew a thick stack of photographs from her coat, and laid them bef