“We have newspaper records going back over a century,” he said. “You need to make an application to access the original copies in the archive. It takes a week to get permission. Or if you like, you can look at microfilm copies without an appointment. What period are you looking for?”

“Summer of ’92,” she said.

“In that case, you’ll have to go through the microfilm. Those records haven’t been scanned yet into our digital system.”

“How do I access the microfilm?” Rachel asked.

“We’re closing soon. It would be better if you come on Friday when we’re next open. That way you’ll have time to go through them properly,” he said, making no effort to hide his irritation at her last-minute arrival.

“Today’s the only day I have,” said Rachel, glancing at the wall clock. There were forty minutes left until the archive closed. “There’s still time for me to find what I’m looking for,” Rachel insisted.

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “What dates do you want?”

“June to December of ’92.”

The archivist turned on an old-fashioned microfilm machine and went through a catalog of slides with a slowness that Rachel found excruciating as she kept an eye on the wall clock. Eventually, he found the slides in question and loaded them into the machine.

Rachel used the toggles of the machine to skim read the daily editions of the Neapolis Gazette. She found a number of articles about two local boys who’d been killed in a car accident that summer. There were no articles about Jenny Stills’s death until Rachel stumbled across a brief paragraph on an inside page in a local news summary section. It was so small she almost missed it:

NEAPOLIS TEENAGER DROWNS NEAR JETTY

A 16-year-old girl drowned at the Morrison’s Point beach yesterday. She was taken to Neapolis General Hospital, where doctors pronounced her dead on arrival. The victim’s name has not yet been released. The beach was closed following the incident. It has since reopened. Police are urging swimmers to show caution in the water.

Rachel’s suspicion that the drowned girl was Jenny Stills was confirmed in a newspaper article published a few days later. It too was buried in an inside page in the newspaper:

A local teenage girl who drowned at the Morrison’s Point beach has been identified as Jenny Eliza Stills. Police say the girl hit her head on rocks when she jumped off the jetty while swimming at night. Funeral details have not been released by the family. Police and city officials are urging teenagers not to swim near the jetty at Morrison’s Point.

Rachel could find nothing else on Jenny’s death. There were several more updates on the two boys involved in the fatal car crash. Both boys were from obviously prominent families and the coverage, eulogies, and obituary notices on their deaths were extensive. There were also several updates on the condition of an unnamed third boy, believed to be the driver, who was fighting for his life in intensive care. There was nothing more on the drowned girl.

Rachel’s attention was briefly caught by a photograph from a candlelit memorial service, held a week after the fatal car accident. It was on the front page of the newspaper under a headline that said: NEAPOLIS MOURNS. Rachel squinted at a hazy black-and-white photo of the police chief, Russ Moore, standing on a podium beside the mayor. The police chief held his arms ramrod straight and stuck out his chest during what the photo caption described as a moment of silence for the two dead boys. One of the boys was the mayor’s nephew. The other was the only son of a prominent businessman in the town.

Police Chief Moore seemed larger than life, a powerful presence that overshadowed the gray-haired mayor standing alongside him in the photo. In another photo, Rachel recognized a young Dan Moore, his arm in a sling, with his dad.

Rachel toggled through the news clippings faster and faster, aware that she was running out of time. She was disappointed there was no more information on Jenny Stills beyond those two small articles.

The archivist was making a big performance of shutting down the office, noisily turning off the other machines and packing his briefcase. Rachel was not so obtuse that she didn’t realize it was his way of telling her to hurry up. She ignored him and kept toggling through articles, determined to eke out every second that she had left until the archive closed. She was glad that she did when she found an article in a newspaper later that year.

CASE CLOSED ON NEAPOLIS DROWNING

A teenage girl who was found dead in the water at Morrison’s Point last summer died from accidental drowning after jumping off the jetty and hitting rocks, said the medical examiner’s office, which officially closed the case yesterday.

The girl’s mother, who is since deceased, had demanded police launch a homicide investigation into the circumstances of her daughter’s death. But the medical examiner’s office said no further investigation was warranted as the girl tragically drowned while swimming in rough waters at night.

City officials say they have long warned teenagers against jumping from the jetty and promised that warning signs would be erected to prevent future tragedies.

“You’ll have to finish now.”

Rachel looked up. The archivist was standing by the door with his hand on the light switch. She was out of time.

As Rachel left the building and jogged back to the library, where she’d left her car, she was more curious than ever and frustrated that she wouldn’t have much time to look for answers. Not with the trial about to start.

The paltry information and sparse newspaper coverage about Jenny Stills’s death had raised more questions for Rachel than it answered. There was a marked difference between the way the newspaper had covered Jenny’s death compared to those of the two boys. Maybe it was because of how Jenny had died in an accidental drowning, rather than a fiery multi-casualty car crash. Or because Jenny and her family, Rachel had surmised from Hannah’s letters, ranked low in the town’s social hierarchy and the boys killed in the car accident were from influential families.

It wasn’t only the lack of public interest in Jenny’s death that bothered Rachel. She couldn’t stop wondering what had troubled Jenny’s mother enough to muster whatever remained of her strength in her dying days to demand her daughter’s death be investigated as a possible homicide. What made Hope Stills think that Jenny might have been murdered when the authorities were certain that she had died in a tragic drowning?

Rachel had enough time for a quick stop at the nearby police station to see if she could find some answers. It was a flat-roofed seventies-style building two blocks from the library. Rachel handed her reporter’s accreditation card to the duty officer and explained that she wanted to speak to a veteran policeman who might have investigated a drowning case from several decades before. Failing that, she wanted to access copies of the police and autopsy reports.

“Do you have a case number? Or a name of the victim?” the police officer asked.

“Jenny Stills,” she answered.

He typed the name into the system.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That name doesn’t appear in our files.”

16

Rachel

Detective Nick Cooper was on his hands and knees prepping the deck of his two-master schooner with an electric sanding machine when Rachel climbed onto his boat. Realizing there was no chance he’d ever notice she was standing there over the deafening roar of the machine, Rachel pulled the sander plug out of the socket and cut the power.

The high-pitched screech ended abruptly, leaving the tranquil sound of water lapping against the boat in its wake. Detective Cooper removed his noise blockers and protective eye mask as he stood up to find out why his sander had abruptly stopped working.

He saw Rachel and wiped his sweaty palms on his khaki work pants before reaching out to shake her hand. His light hair and stubble contrasted with his deep tan and black T-shirt.

“Was it hard to find my boat?” he asked, putting the sander aside.

“I followed the cloud of dust just like you told me,” Rachel said. “Looks like you have a big paint job ahead of you.”

“It’s the price I pay for having a timber sailing boat. More maintenance, but there’s nothing like sailing this baby when the wind is up,” he said, taking two sodas covered in condensation out of a cooler box. He tossed one to Rachel before opening his own with a hiss.

“What is it you want to talk about?” he asked, moving aside a two-gallon can of paint so there was space for Rachel to sit on a bench.

“Everything you know about the Scott Blair case,” Rachel replied.

Detective Cooper sat on the edge of the boat and took a long sip of his drink. “Nice try,” he said once he’d swallowed. “You know I can’t talk about the case before it gets to trial. Anyway, the case wasn’t handled by me. It was handled by our sex crimes unit. All I did was make initial inquiries in the hours after Kelly Moore went missing. Like I told your producer, I’m willing to talk about that if it helps. As long as I’m not quoted.”