We worked our way through the reference numbers for the first name on the list, then returned the fiche when nothing of note came up. The librarian brought us the rolls for the second name. Again, nothing popped up as unusual or indicated that the woman had a connection to the antique store, Walter Shuman, or Parker’s Landing.
Microfiche slapped against the roll as I rewound it. Removing the roll from the machine, I reached for the first roll for the third name on the list, Moira Duluth. The librarian had been watching us and was proactive this time, taking the rolls we’d looked through and bringing us the next ones.
Having gotten the hang of loading the fiche and finding the reference points, I quickly found the first article, and we skimmed it.
Mina lifted a hand and pointed at the screen. “I know that name.”
I looked at where she pointed. “Rich Stevenson?” Quickly, I read the paragraph. It said Mr. Stevenson was Moira’s boyfriend. The article quoted him about the last time he saw her.
“Yes.” Mina let her hand fall back to her lap. She pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing away in thought.
“Is it someone who lives in town?” I didn’t recognize the name, but if it wasn’t an old neighbor or someone related to a person I went to school with, I probably wouldn’t. Not unless I saw him. I was better with faces than names.
Her eyebrows drew together. “Maybe.” She wrote the name on the sheet with the missing persons. “I need to think about it.”
“We can look him up, too, if you want.”
“Maybe,” she said again. “It might come to me.”
Giving her another quick glance—she still had that damn lip between her teeth—I moved on to the next reference number.
“This says she was a clerk for the title office in Juneau,” I said, reading the article. “She disappeared after work one night. Her parents said she never came home.”
“She was still living at home?” Mina leaned closer again.
“I guess so. That wasn’t that unusual for that period, though, right?”
Mina lifted a shoulder. “Not really, no. A lot of Alaskan families still live in multi-generational households. If she wasn’t married, I could see her living at home at that age. Does it say where they lived?”
“Umm…” I skimmed the article. “Not specifically, but since she worked in Juneau, I would assume they lived in the city or close by.”
“What else does it say about her?”
“Nothing, really. Just the basics.” I ran my eyes over the article again, but there really wasn’t much.
“Does it say if the police had any suspects or leads?”
I skimmed toward the end, where it talked about the investigation. “The camera footage from the store caught her car leaving, but nothing else.”
Mina tipped her head. “Did they ever find her car?”
“That’s a good question. This article doesn’t mention it, but it’s from just a couple days after her disappearance.” I glanced at the notebook page with the reference numbers. “Let’s look.” Spinning the dial, I advanced the microfiche to the next article. Together, we skimmed it, but it didn’t mention her car. Neither did the next several articles.
A chime sounded overhead as I put the last roll of microfiche into the machine, then an automated voice came over the speaker. “The library is closing in fifteen minutes, thank you.”
With a frown, I hurriedly advanced the film. “Let’s hope we can get through this last one,” I muttered.
“I wish we had more time,” Mina said. “I’d like to look into family and friends for these women. Maybe look up Rich Stevenson. I still haven’t remembered why I know that name.”
“We can go back to my place, if you want, and use my laptop to do some internet searches.”
Mina tipped her head, thinking. “Possibly. I can’t stay too long, though. Five a.m. comes early.”
One side of my mouth tilted up. “That it does.” When she smiled back and my heart thumped, I turned away so I could focus. Her pretty lips and twinkling blue eyes were too damn distracting. Scrolling forward, I found the first article.
We made quick work of reading it and the next few short ones in the paper over the subsequent days, but any new information petered out as the case grew cold.
“They never did find her car,” Mina said as I removed the roll from the machine.
