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Jamal clicked on the search term and snorted. “Seventeen million hits. There’s a famous hockey player. A psychologist. An actor. Plus a thousand other guys on Facebook with that name. Which one you want?”
“The one she was searching for.”
“How many years you want to spend on it?”
“Keep scrolling through her search activity. What other websites did she visit?”
Jamal’s hand was back on the mouse, scrolling backward through early April, past links to thePortland Press Heraldand theBangor Daily News.
“And we’re back to Maine again,” said Jane.
“She did use to live there,” said Frost.
“But that was fifteen years ago. Why is she suddenly searching their newspapers?” Jane pointed to theBangor Dailylink. “Click on that one. Let’s see where it goes.”
Jamal clicked on the link and the screen filled with an old newspaper article:Ex-husband Sought in Murder of Colby College Professor.
“What the hell is this all about?” Frost said. “This story’s nineteen years old. How does it connect with anything else?”
“That’show it does,” said Jane, and she pointed to the screen. To a sentence buried midway through the article.
…a warrant has been issued for the arrest of the victim’s ex-husband, James T. Creighton.
“That’s the man she was searching for,” said Frost. “Maybe she found him.”
Jane looked at Frost. “Or he found her.”
