Adele Sheldon asked Max. Max was in her room at the Broadmoor, sitting at her desk. She didn’t know what to say—a first for her. “Detective Horn called me,” Adele said, a hitch in her voice. “I knew he was dead, I knew it, but…,” Her voice trailed off on a sob. “Would you like me to drive down and see you?” It was almost a two-hour drive. She didn’t want to go tonight, but she would, for Scott’s mother. “No, I want you to find out what happened. You were there. You saw him.” “We need to wait until the autopsy results.” “That’s what the detective said.” Adele took a deep breath, worked to control her emotions. Max let her; she didn’t need to rush this. “I wanted him to be alive, but I knew in my heart that he wasn’t. I’m his mother; I think I’ve always known.” “Though we can’t be sure until after the tests, there were no visible injuries.” To preserve evidence, Chuck and Tim had bagged Scott’s body while still in the sleeping bag. They examined him for visible head and chest wounds, but there were none.
