“So let’s check out her search history,” said Jamal.
“We don’t have her laptop.”
“You don’t need it. You’re already signed into her Gmail account.” He reached for the mouse, then stopped and looked at Jane. “Just because I can do this doesn’t mean I’m a hacker or anything, okay? I just know a few tricks. And I swear this is the only time I’ve accessed her account.”
“Okay, we believe you,” said Jane.
His mother said: “And just so you folks know, I’m recording this on my phone. To make it clear you’re asking him to do this. So don’t go putting words in his mouth later.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” said Frost.
“Since we’re already logged in, all we need to do is go into her Google account.” Click. “Go to Activity and Timeline.” Click. “And open My Activity.” Click. “And there’s a list of her online searches, by date.” He swiveled around and smiled at Jane and Frost. “You’re welcome.”
Jane stared at the screen. “Shit. Boston PD needs to hire you.”
Mrs. Bird called out from the doorway: “I got that on video too!”
Jane and Frost crowded in close as Jamal scrolled down the screen, revealing the websites that Sofia had visited in the last weeks of her life. Weather.com. USA Today. An online nursing journal. An article about the genetics of blood types.
“Stop,” said Jane, pointing to the screen. “There. April tenth. She did a Google search for someone named James Creighton. What’s that about?”
“Seems like a pretty common name,” said Jamal. “You’re gonna get a lot of hits.”
“Do it. Let’s see what turns up.”
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 the Portland Press Herald and the Bangor 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 the Bangor Daily link. “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’s how 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.”
Thunderstorms had rolled in overnight and rain lashed the car as they drove north. Jane had insisted on driving because when the weather turned nasty and roads were slick, the driver she most trusted behind the wheel was herself. She and Frost had come this way on earlier investigations, following leads north across the Kittery bridge and into Maine. They had been partners for so long, they were now like an old married couple, both of them comfortable with long silences, and for an hour they scarcely spoke as the windshield wipers swiped back and forth and wind buffeted the car.
They were fifty miles past the border when he finally said: “I’m sorry about Saturday night.”
“What?”
“Dinner at your mom’s house. Alice is on this weird diet, see. I was worried your mom might be upset about her not eating very much.”
“What is this weird diet of hers anyway?”
“It’s from a book by this health guru and it changes from week to week. One week she loads up on protein. The next week she only eats salads. This happens to be her salad week. I was hoping your mom wouldn’t notice.”
“Trust me, she notices every forkful that goes into everyone’s mouth. She’s got this mental calculator so she has it down to the calorie.” Jane glanced at him. “How’s it going by the way? You and Alice?”