He lay face down, awkwardly tucking his head. The bullet had entered his chest and lodged in his body—there were no marks on his back. His unbuttoned leather jacket, spread at the sides across the sand like the wings of a shot bird, was spotless, with no blood. It was clear the man had been killed outright: he fell and didn’t twitch. From the edge of the forest, a broad trail led to him—his heavy boots with ribbed soles were imprinted in the sand.