In the shot, the roasted chicken sat on a vintage pewter platter.

The silver surface of the platter was highly polished, reflecting the kitchen behind it like a curved mirror.

“If you zoom in on the reflection here,” Marcus said, tapping the paper. “You can see the stainless steel refrigerator.”

I leaned in closer, squinting at the printout.

“And right next to it, in the reflection of the polished metal,” Marcus continued, “there is a view of the basement door.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“The basement door is usually kept locked,” Julian interrupted, his voice dropping an octave.

“I see that,” Marcus said. “But in this reflection, the door is slightly cracked open.”

The detective reached into his folder and pulled out a second piece of paper.

This one was a black-and-white photocopy of an old police evidence photograph.

It showed a heavy wooden door with a very distinctive, antique iron latch.

The latch had a small, heart-shaped rust stain near the keyhole.

“Three years ago, a young woman named Sarah Jennings disappeared from this county,” Marcus said.