Who had left this in my mailbox? The attached note echoed the same puzzling message I had received the day before in a Who's lying? Why send this thick journal to me? What was the motive? It didn't matter, did it? Nosy as all get out, I untied the strap, to reveal a neatly penned old-school manuscript that began to chronicle a decades-old mystery, a cold case that was never solved, called Shadows of Doubt. It was filled with innuendo and suspicions from unnamed sources, mysterious characters, and an undeniable sense of foreboding that leapt off the pages as this anonymous author painted a vivid portrait of a mystery that once held the town of Highlands, North Carolina captive, only to be forgotten with the passage of time. And as I came to the last of it, my eyes widened in surprise. The last chapter was numbered and Who's Lying? But the rest of it was a total blank. Was this fiction, or did truth course its veins? Its anonymity intrigued me. Did the author need my help to solve it? There was intent here, but I wasn't sure what it was. I also couldn't rule out ill intent, too. It didn't matter because I was hooked already and gathered my team. We were going to solve this!