In the early spring of nineteen twenty-two, a cold mist clung to the remote Bavarian farm of Hinterkaifeck. As the Gruber family stepped out at dawn, a lantern beam cut through the gloom, revealing a single, neat trail of footprints. They led from the dark edge of the woods directly to their back door. But the true horror was not where they came from, but where they stopped.
The prints simply ...
