I gently opened the bloody, wadded up paper. The typing on it was literary in nature - some kind of story.
“Detective?” The medical examiner handed me a cell phone. “It was under his body.”
The screen displayed a message: missed call from Malcolm. I showed Bob the message. “Seems like Malcolm was looking for Stephen.”
“Or trying to make it seem like he thinks the victim’s still alive.”
I pressed the button on the phone, but another message displayed saying the phone was locked.
“We need to get into this phone.”
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