“It’s perfect.”
She hit send, and they waited a few seconds. Nothing happened, so they sat back and stared at the screen. She folded her arms. “Maybe he never goes on Facebook.”
“That’s a possibility.” Peter slid her a glance. “It’s hard to be patient, isn’t it?”
Another minute passed, and nothing happened, so they did some more googling but found nothing outside of the Facebook page.
“Maybe we’ll hear from him tomorrow,” Peter said. “Maybe he’s out fishing, or maybe he’s a morning person.” He picked up his phone and tapped the screen. “Do you have a speaker with Bluetooth? We could listen to some of Scarlett’s music while we wait.”
“Yes, I have a speaker over there.”
Before she had a chance to rise from her chair, her computer chimed with a notification. She grabbed hold of the mouse and clicked on Messenger. “He replied.”
She and Peter read the message together.
Are you with the press? If you’re a reporter, I don’t want to talk to you. Piss off.
Gwen sat back and laughed. “Good heavens! I wasn’t expecting that.”
Peter laid his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. “Tell him you’re not with the press—that you’re from Wolfville, Nova Scotia, and it’s a personal matter. If he knew Scarlett back then, he might have known where she came from.”
Gwen typed the reply and hit send, and they waited. Jeremy responded immediately.
I don’t answer questions on the Internet.
“He’s skittish,” Peter said.
“I’ll suggest that we talk on the phone.” Gwen quickly keyed the message along with her cell number.
Jeremy’s reply appeared immediately.
No way.
She and Peter stared at the screen for a few seconds, then turned to each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gwen asked.
“Probably,” he replied.
“We need to go there,” she said.
“Yes.” Peter pointed at the keyboard. “Tell him that you’ll be visiting Juneau this weekend. See if he’ll agree to meet with you in person.”
“Should I tell him I’m related to Scarlett?” she asked.
Peter thought about that for a moment. “If he knew her back then, he would know her as Valerie.”
“That’s right.” Gwen sat forward on the edge of her chair and thought carefully about how to form a reply. Then she began to type.
I understand. You don’t know me. But would you consider meeting me in person? I plan to be in Juneau on Friday, and I would love to talk to you about my mother’s cousin, Valerie McCarthy. They were close, and I’d like to know more about the time she spent in Alaska. My family has questions, and no one seems able to answer them. Would you be willing to help us and share what you know? I promise I’m not a reporter. I’m Valerie’s first cousin, once removed.
“That’s good,” Peter said.
Gwen clicked send and felt an adrenaline rush while they waited for Jeremy to respond.
A moment later her computer chimed again, and a message appeared.
Meet me at The Alaskan Hotel bar. Friday at 5 PM. And you better not be a reporter.
Gwen responded instantly.
