The body lay on the shop floor, the man's shaven head leaning against the front left tire of a service truck.

There was a dime-sized hole in his chin and a pool of blood, slowly congealing on the concrete floor.

Scarlett stained the front of his shirt, which was stiffening in the dry

desert air. A few feet away lay a bullet and a line of broken fluorescent glass, white and powdery,

like a line of drugs. For more than an hour, silence hung over this scene of death and disorder,

a quiet broken only by the occasional sound of a big diesel rig out on the highway.

Then shortly before 7 p.m., a man scheduled to work second shift walked in, and that silence was replaced by screams.

How exactly what happened?

I opened the garage door, and there's a light bulb busted out.

Uh-huh.

The kid in the office tore up, and he's on the ground bleeding out of his head.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

This is the story of what happened that afternoon in 2014 and why.

But it's also about much more.

It's about long shadows cast by old sins.

It starts as a Playboy Channel fantasy, but It's about long shadows cast by old sins.

It starts as a Playboy Channel fantasy, but this is real life, and they're real complications.

It's about the pairings of flawed souls, unholy alliances that spiraled out of control.

It had everything.

It had sex, religion, the seemingly perfect, beautiful family that had all these secrets.

It's about faith and faithlessness, murder, and the thrill of moral escapism.

...