For 20 years, the tiny town of Haverall, New Hampshire, has held one of New England's darkest secrets.

A young woman's car left in the snow, a crash without a driver, a trail that ends in the

middle of the road.

In the years since Mara Murray vanished, theories have multiplied, but one of them.

One small, strange piece of information changed everything. It came from a cabin deep in the woods, but not far from where her car was found.

And inside that cabin was blood.

Nearly two years after Maura disappeared, the searches have gone quiet, and the snow had

long melted off Route 112 when Fred Murray got a phone call that would change everything

he thought he knew about what happened to his daughter. On the other end of

the line was a man from the Haveral area someone Fred didn't know. Fred described the

caller as emotional, frightened, and perhaps most importantly, guilt-ridden.

The man reportedly said he couldn't live with what he knew any longer and wanted to help

Maura's family. He claimed his own brother might be involved in Morris' disappearance.

Now, let's stop for just a minute there and deconstruct that sentence.

People use language sometimes that bothers me when I'm analyzing a crime situation.

He claimed his own brother might be involved.

What does that mean?

Might be involved.

How do you be involved in somebody's disappearance?

There's only one way to be involved here.

I mean, was he a smuggler, underground railroad runner, or did he kill her and hide the body?

What's he mean might be involved?

...