On a humid afternoon in July of 1969, an 18-year-old college freshman named Karen Sue Beanman was walking into a wig shop in downtown Ibsalante, Michigan.

Karen was a student at the Eastern Michigan University, and by all accounts, she was careful.

She wasn't impulsive, and she wasn't reckless.

The people who knew her described her as someone who thought things through.

But that afternoon, something about her behavior stood out.

As she spoke with the clerks behind the counter, she seemed distracted, her attention drifting

toward the window more than once, as if she was checking on something outside.

After a few minutes, she turned back to the employees and said something that would stay

with them long after she left.

She told him that she had made two foolish decisions that day. One of them, she said,

was buying the wig that she was holding. The other was accepting a ride from a stranger on a motorcycle.

Outside the shop, parked along the street, was a blue triumph motorcycle. Leaning against it was a young

man who, at a glance, didn't raise

suspicion. He looked composed, physically fit, and put together in a way that suggested familiarity

rather than danger. He did not look like someone you would hesitate to trust. Karen walked out of the

shop, approached the bike, and climbed onto the back seat.

Within moments, they were gone, disappearing into the heat and the movement of a Michigan summer afternoon.

Three days later, her body was found in a wooded gully off Riverside Drive.

The level of violence was extreme.

She had been beaten to the point that her face could not be identified by sight,

and she had been strangled using her own clothing.

This was not an isolated crime.

...