T he night she was attacked in her Florida home, Karen Gregory let out a scream so piercing that it carried for several blocks. More than a dozen neighbors heard her, but none called the police. By the time her body was discovered, thirty one hours later, the trail was already cold. The detective assigned to solve the murder ran down one blind alley after another, eliminating one suspect after another, until finally the evidence led him to the front door of one of his best friends — a friend whose wedding ceremony he had officiated over just a few months before. At first the detective didn’t want to believe it. But as the mystery deepened, he found himself studying his friend’s hands, trying to tell if they were the same size as the bloody handprints left on Karen’s leg.
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